Mothers of Every Age and Every Kind: We Need You

About 9 months ago my dad had a heart attack. And then open heart surgery. And then some really long hospital stays as his heart continued to fail. He traveled long to see specialists, was put on a heart transplant list, endured another (miraculous) surgery and another very difficult recovery. That’s my dad’s story, in short form.

But there is another story threaded into this. My mom’s husband (also known as my dad) had a heart attack about 9 months ago and it required a surgery called “the widowmaker”. She watched the man she vowed her life to, become frail and fade away as healing did not come. She cried – into pillows, over the phone and out to God. 

A small town girl her entire life, my mom moved to Seattle with no notice, rented an apartment by herself, and learned to drive in traffic that terrified her because the big city is where my dad needed to be. And where my dad needed to be is where my mom would go.

She learned to dispense drugs and she learned patience. She learned to garb up – gloved, masked and robed – to sit for hours and hold the hand of the one you love when the healing is slow and hard.

There were moments over the past nine months when I felt like I lost a bit of my mom. We talked less of the troubles of my day, the discipline issues I might be having with a child, and more about the effects of anti-rejection meds, my dad’s weight or white blood cell count. 

Suffering seasons have a way of shifting things. Perhaps my kids could say the same. I missed quite a few bedtime prayers over the past nine months as I went to stay with my own parents when I could.

But in the space and distance and absence of this year, my mom was teaching me some very important things.  She taught me what it looks like to love when you think you might lose someone. She showed me what it is like to persevere in truly scary situations, how to put one foot in front of another when you have no clue know how to climb the mountain in front of you. My mom taught me determination through tears, prayerful perseverance, and what it looks like to learn new things, do hard things, when everything inside of you wants to scream – this is too much.

It never was too much for my mama, because God was always enough. He met her in every weakness, bottled every tear. She learned to look for Him expectantly in the loneliest places. I watched her do it.

The seemingly bitter things of this life, in the world and in my family, have left me feeling a bit more vulnerable over the past year. Bad things really do happen. Hearts really do fail. Life really does turn upside down in minute.

I should know that. The Word speaks of it. But sometimes the real learning occurs when we live it out in trials and tears.

But here is what else I know. We can lean into pain and not be crushed by it. We can walk in weakness and know God will be our strength. His promises are real and true. He is so very near to the broken-hearted.

My mom put skin on this truth over the last 9 months. Her actions here taught me more than her words ever could have. And it has so clearly reminded me – Mamas, we never stop needing you.

We need you to light the way. We need to see your faith and your tears. The world needs more women who will show us how to walk through hard things. We don’t need your perfection, your filters, your perfectly curated feeds. We need women brave enough to bless the world with the beauty of reality – hills and valleys, joy and sorrow – walked through by the grace and sovereignty of a God who is so much bigger, so much stronger than all of our fears. He alone is worthy of our fear.

Please never stop showing us, mothers. Never stop teaching us. Whether you have birthed a baby from your womb or mothered those around you from your heart – we need you. We look to you. We are following you as you follow Christ and there is no higher calling than this.

Thank you, leading ladies. Thank you, Mom.

Keep leading us, bravely.