Mother’s Day, Grief, Grace & The Prodigal Child

                       

This Mother’s Day will be my third without my mother, my second without my mother in law Jeannette, and my thirteenth without my former mother in law Carolyn. Three women who were imperfect, complicated, loving in their own ways, and who each left fingerprints on my life.

As I grow older, I find myself thinking less about where they fell short and more about the things they gave me, life lessons, memories, traditions, resilience, laughter and even hard experiences that shaped me into the woman, wife, mother, and grandmother I am today.

Being a mother, and now a grandmother has been the greatest blessing of my life. Nothing compares to holding your babies for the first time, hearing them call you mom and later hearing little voices call you Grammy (or Gammy, Manny, & Jammy). My children, their spouses, and  grandchildren are treasures I thank God for every single day.

But motherhood, like life itself has never come without pain. This year has been especially hard because one of my children has decided they are better off having me out of their life than in it. There are no words deep enough to explain the ache of loving your child while simultaneously being shut out from their world.   

In recent months I have learned about today’s culture. In this upside down world, therapists, influencers and social media trends are increasingly encouraging adult children to cut off their parents under the label of “self care,” “personal growth” or “protecting mental health.” Family relationships are now often viewed through the lens of “toxicity,” “emotional immaturity,” and “unsafe behavior.” If a parent remembers events differently than the child does, they may be accused of “gaslighting.”  If the parent reaches out, they are “triggering.” If they stay silent and respect the boundaries, they are still somehow failing.

Rather than encouraging reconciliation, humility, forgiveness, accountability, and healing, society increasingly promotes permanent separation.

I cannot help but believe that this is exactly what the enemy (Satan) wants. Division, isolation, bitterness, and broken families. The exact opposite of what God desires.

The truth is, I was not a perfect mother. not even close. I was young, I did not have healthy examples to follow. Mike and I were very different people thirty years ago. We knew God but we were spiritually immature and not always following him in a way that would set a good example. We fought too much and sadly, our children witnessed too much of it. There were times I questioned everything. Times I considered leaving. Times I felt trapped between wanting to protect my daughters emotionally, while also believing my boys needed a father present in their lives. No matter the reasons, excuses do not erase pain. The responsibility to protect and nurture my children was mine, and in many ways I fell short. That is a hard thing for me to admit, but it’s the truth.

Over the years, I have apologized for my failures, and taken responsibility for the ways I was inadequate. But, apologies alone do not heal wounds, and forgiveness is difficult when God is not invited into the healing process. 

The reality is, my child is hurting because they feel wounded by their childhood. I am hurting because I truly loved my children with everything I had, even when I didn’t always love them well. Both things can be true at the same time.

As I have grown older, I believe I have become softer, wiser, more supportive, more patient, more loving, and the kind of grandmother I once wish I had. Growth does not erase the past, but it matters. Redemption matters, and grace matters.

Ironically, one of the hardest seasons of our lives became the very thing God used to transform our marriage and our family. Mike’s illness humbled him, it humbled both of us. Somewhere between hospital stays, dialysis, surgeries, fear, and exhaustion, God rebuilt our marriage. He restored friendship where resentment once lived. He softened hearts that had become hardened by stress and survival. We fell in love all over again.

While none of that changes the mistakes we made years ago, it has taught us to love better now. To be more intentional parents to our adult children and the kind of grandparents our grandchildren will remember with warmth, safety, and love.

So this Mother’s Day while I miss my own imperfect mother and the mothers in law I loved -women who were not always easy but were still deeply human and valuable, I am glad God taught me forgiveness. Over time, he helped me stop focusing only on the pain and remembering the good.

Healing did not happen over night. It happened slowly, prayer by prayer, surrender by surrender. As for my prodigal child, and all of my children- I will never stop praying for them, Never!

This “Cut-off culture,” these trends, and this world may normalize fractured families, but Jesus reminds us that this broken world does not get the final word.

“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” ~John 16:33

And because he has overcome the world, I still have hope. Hope that hardened hearts can be softened. Hope that what is broken can still be restored. Hope that grace can reach places that pride and pain cannot. Hope that God is still writing all of our stories.

This Mother’s Day, I choose love, and forgiveness. I choose prayer, and I choose to trust that no distance is too great for God to redeem in his perfect timing.