I See You…
If you read my introductory blog post, you know that this place exists because I feel called to write.
You also know that, despite that truth, I have never yet felt quite sure of exactly what I am called to write.
Keeping this a place for Real Life really matters to me. I want what you see here to matter to you. To encourage you. To make you feel better for having visited. It’s never about me; but about making a difference to you.
It is harder than I imagined!
Not because I find it hard to write. Take this week, for instance: I started writing five different pieces. A couple of them, already multiple-pages in length. Yet not one of them felt exactly right to share here this week.
I will tell you a little secret: I only know one way to try and stay completely true to my mission for this site: I continually talk to God. As I go about living my Real Life, I ask Him to open my eyes to exactly which parts I could share that might help someone else.
Those five new writing projects I just mentioned? That makes it sound like maybe quite a bit has gone on in my Real Life this past week, doesn’t it? It has. Yet not one of those stories turned into today’s post.
In my chats with God about what to say this week, one thing has repeatedly landed on my heart. The one thing I thought I had decided not to talk about.
First, because everybody is talking about it right now. So where is the fun in that??
But more importantly, because I know that when it comes to Mother’s Day, there is often way more than meets the eye.
As one of my life’s lessons, I have learned that the hardest thing to do is usually the right thing to do. So, I guess I should have known all along that all the reasons I didn’t want to talk about Mother’s Day are also the exact reasons I am supposed to.
I could pay tribute to my mom. My mother-in-law. My sister-in-law. My aunts. Some of my dear friends. I could honor them as wonderful mothers. They each certainly deserve that recognition.
But I don’t think that is quite the exact nudge I keep feeling.
I can personally let those special women know that I love and appreciate them. (I hope that, if they read this, seeing themselves mentioned here will remind them that I really do.) But thoughts and tributes like that will abound in honor of the day. Our TV screens, our social media feeds, our e-mail inboxes, our stores and restaurants and our communities, even our weather alerts (for REAL, that just happened to me!) have already begun reminding us at every turn.
I do know the reason my heart just won’t let me devote this post to anything but Mother’s Day: I need to do it for the one reading it who needs to hear someone acknowledge and honor the fact that it is just not a one-size-fits-all, beautiful, happy day for everyone. If you are that one, I want you to know: I see you. I am thinking of you. You are not alone.
I personally know and care about so many people for whom I can only imagine Sunday will feel like a bittersweet day at best; a deeply sad day at worst; and so many other complicated ways in between.
To my friends who, as recently as this past week, have lost mothers and grandmothers: That timing somehow feels extra cruel. I know that your grief will never really “end.” The world cannot dictate that you “get over it”. I do hope that one day, the edges of your pain will dull enough that you may look through a lens of joy and remember this as her first truly perfect Mother’s Day: The first she got to spend in paradise, with Jesus. You will never stop missing her or wishing she were here with you instead. Of course you won’t. I also hope that one day, you can remember that she would want to see you happy. In your memories of her. In the life that you have now. I hope that you can find the peace and happiness she has always wanted for you. If this is where Mother’s Day finds you this year: I see you. I am thinking of you. You are not alone.
I care about so many others who face this Mother’s Day with the deepest wound a mother can endure: The loss of her child. My heart will never stop breaking for you. I know that some of you have endured that loss repeatedly, never yet having known the joy of holding even one in your arms. Unimaginable loss. If Mother’s Day finds you here, please know that I see you. I am thinking of you. You are not alone.
I also know you, the one who wants more than anything, to be a mother. It just hasn’t happened yet. Every happy announcement you see in your day-to-day life must feel like salt in an already raw wound. You want Mother’s Day to include you. Each year that it doesn’t feels more brutal than the one before. I encourage you: Do not give up hope. Keep looking all around for the stories that remind you: Anything is possible. I believe that. If Mother’s Day finds you here, go ahead and feel what you need to feel. The rest of us might not know, but if we did, we would understand. For now, know that I see you. I am thinking of you. You are not alone.
I care about you, who have not suffered the physical loss of your mother or your child but have - through life’s circumstances - lost relationship with them. But for the grace of God go any of us. One choice, one difference of opinion, one last word spoken in anger, one necessary boundary… Any one of us could find ourselves exactly where you find yourself right now. I know you have tried your best. I know you feel like you fit nowhere on an occasion like this. None of it feels quite right. I see you. I am thinking of you. You are not alone.
I care about you, the one doing the very hard job of motherhood all on your own. Your kids are just kids. They don’t understand the sacrifices you make for them. Nobody will remind them to celebrate you. You don’t need celebration. You do what you do because you love them. But it will still sting a little. Keep doing what you’re doing, knowing that although they can’t possibly grasp it now, someday they will. They will look back and know that having had a mom who loved them that much made all the difference in the world. For now, please know: I see you. I am thinking about you. You are not alone.
I see you, the one with kids just grown-up enough to have all-consuming lives of their own. You are their constant; the sense of security they trust will just be there. A beautiful thing. But I know how much it would mean if they’d take just a minute and tell you. Someday they will. For now: I see you. I am thinking about you. You are not alone.
I remember one Mother’s Day…
My kids were too young to really grasp the concept. My husband still hadn’t quite calibrated to thinking of Mother’s Day as something other than for our moms - that I took care of. (There really is a strange learning curve there…) I got a gift that morning, and then the day went on as normal.
I did the worst possible thing: I fell into the trap of watching online all day, as others posted about the wonderful, perfect days they were having. I fell prey to the toxicity of comparison. I allowed it to make me feel bad about my day. Never mind that my husband and my kids have always demonstrated to me every day that they love me and appreciate me. I made the choice to focus instead on the curated, polished versions of what others - people who do not live in my home or in my life - made public about that one day. I allowed it to shape what would become my memory of that day.
On one hand, I regret that I ever did that, and I feel embarrassed admitting it. On the other, I am thankful for the experience. Because I can now say to you, with 100% authority, that if what you see online makes you feel that way (not just on Mother’s Day but on any day): Just LOG OFF. Focus on your Real Life. And remember: For every final, sometimes perfect-looking image we show online, a lot of (often messy) Real Life takes place behind the scenes. …At least it does around here!
Speaking of messes behind the scenes, I want to talk to just ONE more of you: The one who feels like this past year or so of motherhood; of family; of adapting every single thing in life; has been A LOT. You love your kids with your whole heart. You appreciate and would never turn down a single chance to spend time with them. You have had more chances than you ever imagined to spend time with them (all of them) for the past year and a half. When allowed to think honestly about your perfect Mother’s Day, you think of some silence and maybe even a little time alone. To do exactly what you want to do. Or to do nothing at all. You feel guilty for that truth. You think it’s only you. I see you. I am thinking of you. You are not alone! It is not only you! (I PROMISE.)
Not one of us arrives at Mother’s Day without the sometimes painful, often beautiful, but guaranteed chaos of Real Life.
Whether I have already spoken to YOU here, or whether Mother’s Day finds you somewhere else: About to become a mother for the first time… In the WEEDS of it all right now, happily exhausted - raising precious babies and willing time to slow down… Enjoying your grown children, knowing you have done the hard work and done it well… I honor you. I wish you the exact day that you need.
So, I guess there we have it: The things I wanted to make sure you heard someone say.
I hope that in some small way, this little reminder that I see you: That I’m thinking of you. That you are not alone – matters.