Today is Mother’s Day! I have the honor and privilege of having one of the best mothers in the world who has always loved me unconditionally and supported me. However, Mother’s Day is so bittersweet for so many people. In the mist of Mother’s Day, there seems to always be a lingering sadness. We are sad because my grandmothers are no longer with us. My Mom misses her Mom. Her Mom was both of our best friends. So what do you do when you miss someone so much? You try to fill the day with has much happiness as possible. My mom has simple requests: church, our favorite foods at her house, and quality time while watching movies.

Church ….

Church is interesting. My former church had a tradition of honoring mothers such as the oldest mother, the newest mother, the mother who traveled the farthest to be with her family, etc. This tradition has always suck in my head. Why? Because I’m not a mother. This day isn’t for me. But I want Mother’s Day. Then of course, Facebook struck! I stumbled across the most perfect article that expressed how I felt. In this “Open Letter To Pastor’s [A Non-Mom Speaks About Another Mother’s Day]”, all of my dread and feeling about Mother’s Day at church were written for me! For some people like me, it’s hard to celebrate Mother’s Day when you want to be a mother yourself but usually, most people don’t recognize that.

Amy Young wrote,

Dear Pastor,

Tone can be tricky in writing. Picture me popping my head in your office door, smiling and asking if we could talk for five minutes. I’m sipping on my diet coke as I sit down.

You know that I’m not one to shy away from speaking my mind, part of the reason you love me (mostly!), so I’m guessing that internally you brace yourself wondering what might be next.

I set my can down and this is what I’d say.

A few years ago I sat across from a woman who told me she doesn’t go to church on Mother’s Day because it is too hurtful.  I’m not a mother, but I had never seen the day as hurtful. She had been married, had numerous miscarriages, divorced and was beyond child bearing years. It was like salt in mostly healed wounds to go to church on that day. This made me sad, but I understood.

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