A Prayer for Mothers Everywhere

Thirteen years ago this Sunday, I celebrated my first Mother’s Day in style: I came down with a massive stomach flu on an airplane while my husband and infant son were also vomiting. Next to me. On a four-hour flight. You wouldn’t believe some of the experiences we had in that tiny cabin bathroom.

It certainly was a day to remember.

It certainly was not the first Mother’s Day I had in mind. But as I looked back on it a few weeks later, I realized there was some poetic justice to the whole thing. Let’s face it: Parenting includes a good share of illness, of doing what you have to do, of buckling down and getting through. Mother’s Day doesn’t work well when we try to make it look like an Instagram-ready celebration; real life is just too messy. And real life is exactly what being a mother is all about.

Mother’s Day is already a complicated day under normal circumstances. While celebrating our favorite moms we often bump into layers of grief. This year, with the world still suffering under a global pandemic, the chances of bumping into grief are even higher than normal.

Mother’s Day is a complicated day under normal circumstances.
This year, with the world still suffering under a global pandemic, the chances of bumping into grief are even higher than normal

Women desperate for a day to themselves may have nowhere but home to go. Women who look forward to seeing their grown children (and children eager to celebrate their mothers) may have to settle for an internet check-in. There’s not much hope of going out for brunch.

But as we remain in the trenches of parenting, of caregiving, of nurturing, God meets us—right here in the mess and complexity of it all.

So, here is my prayer for you this year, wherever you might be:

To you who have been at home for weeks, caring for small children without the space for a break — we honor you. Thank you for your love and endurance.

To you whose children are grown, who have had to make do without seeing them for far too long — we honor you. We see the toll this separation has had on you.

To you about to give birth during this time of uncertainty and illness—or have recently given birth — we honor you. We are working together to make this world a safer place for new life. We lift you and your baby up to Jesus, with thanksgiving, today.

To you whose plans for adoption or fertility treatments have been disrupted by the pandemic — we honor you. We pray and grieve and hope with you.

To you, so many of you, who have lost children or parents during this time — we honor you. We weep and mourn with you, and we invite the presence of Jesus to be near. He weeps and mourns with you, too.

To you, who have long dreaded Mother’s Day for the losses and griefs it entails — we honor you. You are seen. You are valued. You are loved.

God meets us — right here in the mess and complexity of it all.

“Mamas, we so often feel alone and unseen. We pour ourselves out day and night, and the weight of it can be so isolating … . But in the wee hours of the darkness, in our solitude, in our isolating service, God is there. He is keeping vigil with you, over you.
“Our God is the one who sees you.
He will lead you beside quiet waters.
He will restore your soul.”

Long Days of Small Things: Motherhood as a Spiritual Discipline by Catherine McNiel, (NavPress), 2017.