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To you who has given birth and raised a child
To you who has nurtured another, given encouragement, shelter, a meal, a kind word, or a hand up along life's journey
To you who know the pain of a barren womb
To you who wait expectantly till your day comes

Happy Mother's Day to all who 'mother' and know the joy, challenges, and pain of care-taking. We lift our hearts and hands to you Jesus - to fill us, use us, teach us...may we walk with you on this journey. May we serve faithfully until our work on earth is done.


He looks at me, eyes hard, defiance set on his face. No words this time but every ounce of his energy is targeted in that glare. He turns and does what I ask. Not cheerfully, not with a willing heart, but because he dislikes the consequences which his inaction will generate.

I ponder the nature of this wiry, blond, eight-year old boy. He's full of youthful curiousity - so many questions, his innocence shines like the sun. He's rife with vitality and vigour, exploding with leaps and motion. When he's not angry or defiant, his eyes dance like fireworks. This young man is expectant, seeking adventure, allured by risk and challenge.

Somewhere along the way, I lost his honour and respect, his devotion and desire to please. Instead, anger brews below the surface, smoldering, ready to ignite at the slightest provocation. Words of blame, accuse; remarks muttered under sneers of rebellion, actions mock gentle counsel. He retaliates when his wishes aren't granted or immediate requests are denied.

How did we get here, this boy of mine and I? It doesn't seem that long ago that I scooped that toddling child up for hugs on the run, kissing his blond ringlets as his chubby hands squeezed my neck. He pulled me to and fro saying, "Mommy, come"

My love for him runs deep, he is a part of me. Beyond that I know I'v somehow contributed to his current state. In that same vein, I can, in God's love and in my love and humility encourage and lead him to another place.

I seek to restore what was lost. My eyes and heart are drawn to him and turn towards him. I long to hug him close but instead I read him. He's not willing today. My boy-man is finding his identity, his place in this world. He pushes me away for now, and needs to muddle in this space.

Loving Father, teach me to be a mom to this boy-man. You have work for Him to do, people to touch, many pages still to be written in his book. May I respect who You made Him to be, love him in the way You do, unconditionally. Help me to have fun with him, smile at him more, enjoy him. Give me wisdom to garner his respect again and wait expectantly for His return. We're passing through territory that requires prayerful caution, and reckless loving abandon.

Let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.
Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering,for He who promised is faithful; and let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds... Hebrews 10:22-24 NASV


Angcat said…
Dear Joyful,
I love this post. The tribute at the start is beautiful and I will pass it along to a friend who "mothers", but has no children of her womb.
I loved your descriptions of your boy. They are vibrant and full of life.
God is faithful to turn the hearts of parents to the children and children's hearts to their parents.

Thank you for this reminder.

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