Although I am now a mother, and will celebrate my fourth Mother’s Day, my heart still breaks on this day. My heart still grieves all the years of pain this day caused. It makes me want to come find you, Waiting Mother, wrap my arms around your neck, grab some Ben and Jerry’s, and eat until we see the bottom of the container. If I could, I’d tell you it gets better.
God is so faithful and He answers prayers in the most beautiful ways. Ways we would never imagine, but always better than our greatest dreams. Although I know this to be true, on this day for you, it feels so far away. And every commercial, every present, every lunch, every barren second of this day, holds the reminder that you are not a mother…yet.
If I could, I would hug you, and remind you that “yet” is the word to breathe in, breathe out, and repeat today. I pray from the depths of my heart that these words meet you in your need, and more than anything, I pray that you will find Him here, right in the midst of your waiting.
But you won’t care. You’ll learn that all those things can wait. Your life, will indeed, go on even with a messy house. You will never have this day with your baby again. You won’t want to miss one gummy smile, slobbery kiss, or squishy hug.
But you do care. You’re not there…yet. Telling you to enjoy your sleep, go on dates, clean, and shave your legs is just ridiculous, and honestly insensitive. Your heart aches.
So while you wait…grow.
All those nights when you are crying out to the Father, begging Him to answer your prayer for a child, you are learning how to need Him. Because you will.
Lean into that.
Every time your friends tell you they are pregnant, deep in your heart you wonder why it can’t be you. And you run to your Dad, to feel His big, safe arms wrap around you. This is how you will comfort.
When you feel like you are the only one in the whole world who isn’t a mommy, you remember the story of a woman named Hannah and the big prayers she prayed for her Samuel.
And you’ll pray those same prayers for your promised one.
It’s so uncomfortable. The pain is just too much some days.
But don’t fight it. Open up your hands and ask Papa to teach you how to wait. Ask Him to help you grow. Savor your desperation for Him. And then watch. Watch Him make your angry, winter heart a beautiful, spring meadow.
And while your eyes are on Him, you won’t even notice how He surprises you with your dream.
“Therefore, behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her. And there I will give her her vineyards and make the Valley of Achor a door of hope..”
*Photo by the amazing