I was tempted to stay home from church. I wasn’t sure I could walk in and fake being happy on this particular day. I cried out to the Lord, telling Him that He was asking too much, expecting me to attend the worship service that particular morning. You see, it was Mother’s Day.
For the first several years of our marriage, Mother’s Day was an uncomfortable event to process. Year after year of infertility and month after month of negative pregnancy tests made it difficult to celebrate this special day. I loved my own mother, of course. And I was thankful for my friends who had children.
But I was sad for myself and for my husband.
And I didn’t think I could smile and pretend for another year.
As, I sat in the pew, the pastor preached a stirring sermon on the attributes of motherhood. All the things he said were true. They just didn’t apply to me. And when the time came for all the mothers in the sanctuary to stand and be honored, my head dipped and the tears flowed. As mothers all around the room proudly rose from their seats, I prayed silently.
“Why, Lord, can’t this be me? What do you have in store for me? You know my desire is to be a mom. Will this ever happen? I’m so sad, Lord. I know you are good, but I need you to show me your goodness today.”
As I lifted my head and wiped my tears, I felt an arm around my shoulder. My dearest friend, a mother herself, had been watching my silent grief. She knew the longings of my heart because I had poured them out to her over and over for many years.
You can read the rest of the story at incourage.me where this post was originally published.
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