Happy _________ Day: A letter to broken women

Today I sat in church, hunched over, antsy with grief. I wanted to throw up and cry and run all at the same time. I wanted to escape and find someone to understand, find someone to sit and understand what has caused endless knots in my stomach since the start of this weekend. 

I celebrated Mother’s Day two years ago-it was actually a wonderful one-with a mom that I can’t remember the last time celebrated my birthday. Sometimes, even to utter the words “my” mom is too painful, so I call her theirs. And she’s ripped my face out of every picture in her house and she’s told me how disappointed she is in me and my life-I don’t think she’s disappointed because my choices have been bad, I think she’s disappointed because they have been too good. I didn’t follow her footsteps; instead I picked up the jewels she dropped along the way. 

Today was painful. There’s nothing more to say about it. And I know I am not the only one that is feeling this way-I want to say to you, broken sisters, that it’s ok to hurt. It’s ok to cry and to walk with a limp for a day–but I am telling you to keep walking. Keep walking because wounded warriors (and women, you are surely warriors) win. We walk with a limp because we refuse to take on our parent’s legacies of dropping jewels. We walk wounded because new beginnings hurt, and legacies take years of toil and drive to come into fruition. We are wounded because we refuse the fate that has been spoken to us and pursue the fate that’s been Promised to us, by a King’s Wounded Hands. 

To all the moms who surrounded me starting at sixteen, who said “enough is enough” and carried me wounded as your own child, I cannot imagine my life without you, or who I would become without your bright and shining example. 

To all those not yet moms, pregnant with the promise of God, waiting on the Lord for the phone call that the birth mother went into labor, on your knees asking the Lord to win the battle against science and doctors, for the unmarried, the unresolved, the biding, the desperate, the seeking: You are worth celebrating. You are worth celebrating because you are first a child. This is the baseline. And, secondly, you are life giving. Your smile, your presence, your joy, your gifts, your voice, your beauty: Oh, Daughter of the King, you are simply breathtaking, and worth celebrating every moment of the day. 

It is my prayer for you, Broken Sister, that you are accoladed for the greatness of you-you are worthy and you are priceless, and I am so glad God chose you to shine some light in this world.