Dear moms:
I see you.
You with the children and the schedule and the sleeplessness and the shopping and the schooling.
There you are, a little frazzled and breathless, full bag of baby necessities on one shoulder, baby on the other, bent over to shepherd the toddler through the door.
You drive by with your car full of kids in uniforms holding balls and gloves, your day dictated by sports schedules, and you’ll sit and cheer and chat with other moms. Again and again and again.
I see you.
You stand in the lobby of the place where we worship, little knots of you, encouraging one another, commiserating sometimes, talking nutrition, birthing, all the mom stuff. Laughing.
You take in the children of other moms who have fallen a great distance and can’t seem to rise anywhere near a place of stability. You take those kids and feed them and clothe and educate them. You love them as your own without a moment’s regret.
I see your patience and tenderness. Oh, I know there are those days, those moments when you crash and burn and think you are the Worst Mom Ever. But they are a tiny fraction of your mothering. I see your patience and tenderness.
And on those mornings when we worship together, I see you with eyes closed, arms uplifted, joy on your upturned face. Because kids need moms who know God. And you know this.
So, Happy Mother’s Day. God’s eyes of love are on you, too.