A Day for Other Mothers

Today I woke up thinking about other mothers.

I’ll celebrate today sharing Sunday dinner with my children who are healthy and who love the Lord. It’s no struggle for me to honor my own mother with books she loves on this special day and honest words. Our relationship is warm, active, and free from conflict. This is all joy to me, a blessing from God.

From the seat of this blessing, I awoke praying for other mothers:

I prayed for the mothers of Nigeria. I prayed for rescue for their daughters. I prayed that wherever their daughters are now, God would make His presence known to them. I prayed that God would comfort these mothers in their unbearable distress. I prayed for the mothers of their captors that God would hear their agony and turn their sons from their evil ways. I prayed for the mothers of Nigeria whose daughters are with them but still at risk. That they would know God’s protection and peace.

I prayed for the mothers on my caseload and others like them. Mothers clawing their way to mental health, fighting addiction or wounds from domestic violence or trying to recover from their own damaged mothers. I prayed for God’s mercy on them and their children. I prayed for healing and sound minds. I prayed that they would come to know the Living God who loves them in their present state, who knew them before they were born.

I prayed for their children to know God’s presence with them until the time their mothers are made whole.

I prayed for the mothers who wound their young, who barter them for gold or favor, whose cruelty goes unchecked in dwellings where there is no witness their crimes. I prayed that God would see them, that He would have mercy on their children and rescue them in their time. I prayed that God would limit these mothers so they are unable to twist their children’s souls.

I prayed for the mothers who mourn today and for those who are mourned. Fresh wounds of a first mother’s day or second or twenty-fifth, visiting not a restaurant but a headstone amid green grass and forget-me-nots.

Or mothers retired from active duty by the unnatural loss of children who have died out of order leaving mothers with crumpled tissues, sighs, and longing hearts on this day of days. I prayed that God would be their comfort and whisper light words into their heavy sorrow.

I prayed also for mothers of calling. Mothers who have born no sons or daughters by flesh or even adoption but who nurture other women’s children in a thousand brilliant ways that no one has written a card yet to describe.

And I prayed for the mothers in waiting, those with empty arms cradled to catch the one they trust in faith is coming, one day, one day, one day. I prayed that they would seize God’s gift of joy today and receive it with gladness.

From the seat of my blessing, I pray for these other mothers and I read the words of Psalm 37 thinking how much more faith it requires from some mothers than others to believe its truth:  “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way, over the man who carries out evil devices! Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath! Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil. For the evildoers shall be cut off, but those who wait for the Lord shall inherit the land. In just a little while, the wicked will be no more; though you look carefully at his place, he will not be there. But the meek shall inherit the land and delight themselves in abundant peace.” Psalm 137:7-11

What faith it takes to forsake fretting in these times! What faith it requires to wait for our inheritance! What faith it demands to answer evil with meekness and prayers!

May we be mothers of such faith by the mercy and power of Jesus who is coming again!  And if we are blessed, may we bless other mothers from the seat of our blessing. Amen?


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