I’m not gonna lie. Mother’s Day this year was rough for me.
I’m still learning to sort through all the wounds of the past, to sift through what is real and what isn’t, to let the right things go, to dive deeper where I must, to allow God into the pain.
And always, always I remind myself that God is FOR me and that his love does not depend on the whims of emotion. His love for me does not depend on my ability to schedule in daily quiet times. I do not fail him when I choose rest over spiritual disciplines. For he gives us rest and joy as gifts and they do not exist outside of his Goodness.
And what does this have to do with the wounds inflicted by a parent? Because we all impose our earthly experiences and impressions on a God who was not born of this world. He wasn’t even ever born.
And so, as the day of celebrating motherhood passes us by, I want to stop myself and ask, what have I imposed on God? Have I assumed he is judgmental where he is not? Ever on the alert for my shortcomings and sins? Have I imposed on him the experiences I have had with those who ought to have loved me most in all the world?
But he does bind us to our stories or our histories does he? He is ever writing something new in us.
And healing our story
heals the image we hold inside
of us of what God must be like.
And we get to write
together: Him and us.
If only we open our souls up to the
joy and hardships of being MADE
NEW. Of being REBORN in the image
of a Child of God and of his alone.
It doesn’t matter, what type of mother you ever had or didn’t. God is in the business of rewriting broken stories into beautiful outcomes.