On Mother’s Day 2015, I sat in my car sobbing and wrote these words:

“For Mother’s Day 2015, I received truth. The facades are gone and underneath is the very ugly reality that no one in our home likes me, values, me, or even remotely wants to celebrate me. There is a lot of anger, resentment, bickering, annoyance, frustration, and disappointment. There is no love, kindness, peace, patience, joy, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, or self-control. No fruit of the Spirit, therefore no Spirit. Christian, homeschooling, adoptive, special needs mother with a house full of poison. What does that mean? Failure. Plain and simple. I am a failure. As a wife. As a mother. As a person. Everyone in our house is self-centered, self-absorbed, selfish—not God-centered, self-controlled, Christlike. And I am the mom, so it all comes back to me. 

How did this happen, God? I thought I was pursuing You, making selfless decisions, and dedicating my entire life to your call. Did I hear You wrong, or is it just that I failed? I know the answer to that. I failed. I failed because I relied on my own strength and wisdom. I sought You but not really. I prayed weakly. I strove mightily in my own flesh rather than relying on You. But what now, God? Is it over? Is it too late? Is there any way my life and the lives of my children and our family can be salvaged? Show me, God.

‘I myself will search for my sheep and look after them. As a shepherd looks after his scattered flock when he is with them, so I will look after my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered in a day of clouds and darkness.’ (Ezekial 34:11-12)

May 10, 2015—Mother’s Day—a day of clouds and darkness—both literal and figurative. Come, Holy Spirit, come. Send angels to minister to my broken heart and to bind the wounds. Fill me anew and let me focus my eyes upon you, oh God. Guide my steps and my words and soften my heart toward those who have hurt me. Redeem my days, oh God. Let them not be in vain.” 

At the end of the piece of notebook paper, I wrote these Scripture references:

Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life.  I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.’”

So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone.  I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them.

Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to it, ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Come, breath, from the four winds and breathe into these slain, that they may live.’” So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army.

Then he said to me: “Son of man, these bones are the people of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up and our hope is gone; we are cut off.’ Therefore prophesy and say to them: ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: My people, I am going to open your graves and bring you up from them; I will bring you back to the land of Israel. Then you, my people, will know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves and bring you up from them. I will put my Spirit in you and you will live, and I will settle you in your own land. Then you will know that I the Lord have spoken, and I have done it, declares the Lord.’” (Ezekial 37:4-14)

‘ I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.’ (Ezekial 36:26-27)

A decade has passed since that day—the day my kids and I refer to as “The Olive Garden Mother’s Day” (punctuated by the sigh of a very, very bad shared memory). God did open my grave, settle me in my own land, give me a new heart, and redeem my days. I still fail (an awful lot), but I know that does not make me a failure. The thin, worn sheet of notebook paper on which I wrote the words above is folded in quarters and tucked into my Bible between Ezekial 36 and 37. In 2019, I wrote in the margins of that Bible beside the Ezekial 36 verse: “Praise you, Lord, for the new heart you have given me.” And beside the Ezekial 37 verses, I wrote: “I am alive!!”

I have now celebrated thirty Mother’s Days. They cover the spectrum from the horrible 2015 experience to feeling incredibly valued and special—awakening to kid-made (but VERY high quality) breakfasts cooking or crafts made of fingerprints—to sitting in a hospital rocker with no clue that the next time I held my son, he would draw his last breath. Most are ordinary —the kids at home these days don’t cook breakfasts or make special crafts on their own (yet), and they need all of their usual care on Mother’s Day just like every other day. But the range of Mother’s Day experiences are a snapshot of what it has been like to be a mom—extraordinary days and extra ordinary days, tremendous love and tremendous grief, my greatest effort and my greatest failure. They are also a picture of God’s grace and redemption—needed over and over and over again. 

What I value most now is time with whichever adult kids are around and available, words they take the time to write or speak to me, and little gestures that let me know they see me and they care. I value watching the younger kids sing and dance or just be kind to each other. I value seeing love poured into my grandtwins by their parents and their aunties and uncles and thinking how that love will only grow and spread long after I am here to see it. Simple things that mean the world—that let me know that all the years before were not in vain.