Porch #181 💔 For the ones who weren't mothered well
if any day of the year unleashes a tumble of difficult emotions, it'd be Mother’s Day
‘He will cover you with His feathers,
and under His wings you will find refuge;
His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.’
- Psalm 91:4
Dearest friends,
This can be a hard weekend for a whole lot of reasons.
Some of us have the loveliest, healthiest relationship with our moms … or if she is not here anymore, warm, cozy memories that we cherish. You have been given an awesome gift. If she is still with you, please don’t take her for granted. Live a no-regrets life with her. Reach out to her. Speak your gratitude for who she is and what she has done in your life. Do it often, not just this weekend.
And then there are those whose reality is not a happy one.
You might have harshly received the message that you were too much. Or never enough.
Thoughts of your mother might invoke something unsettled in your spirit. Uncertainty or bewilderment. Hurt or frustration. Deepest disappointment or an unending current of sadness. Waves of an anxiety born of fear, a lack of safety, unpredictable behavior, or abuse.
Please allow me to tell you that how deeply saddened I am for these mother wounds, these shards of pain left by one who neglected to love you well. No matter whether your mother is still here on earth or long gone, this is a deep grief, a searing loss. Your heartache grieves the tender heart of the Father who loves you with an everlasting love.
I want to give you one of those gentle, big-sisterly nudges to do something with your emotions because they are messengers that whisper, and sometimes shout, the truth of what’s going on deep in your soul. Your feelings are real and valid. Their presence is worth recognizing, honoring, and naming. By calling them what they are, they begin to lose their ownership over you. They define you less.
Jesus walks with you as you sift through the hurtful memories and navigate those wearisome feelings that have become such a burden. He cradles you, carries you, and comforts you. By the power of the Holy Spirit, He is able to bring a kind, healing touch to those mother wounds that cause your heart to ache.
He is our burden-bearer. He calls you beloved.
‘Keep me as the apple of Your eye;
hide me in the shadow of Your wings …’
Psalm 17:8
You are deeply loved by Him. On Mother’s Day and every other day.
Linda
I had a very abusive mother, and not just while I lived "under her roof". She followed me through my life, often showing up drunk and half-naked, repeatedly calling employers and other people I knew on the phone at all hours of the day and night. My first husband was abusive, and constantly told me I was just like my mother. I divorced him and separated myself and my children after a wild rage where I thought my mother would hurt my baby son.
I've suffered nightmares and bad relationships because I had no example to follow and fell for guys who falsely portrayed themselves as good, loving men. Through it all, after a move to another state, I got a good job and raised my sons on my own. They are now all wonderful men, good husbands and fathers, good employees. I'm 72, living alone, and everyone has outgrown me. I see them at holidays and school events and talk to two of them weekly. One married a woman who immediately went to work changing him and our whole family dynamic as soon as he said "I do". I try to do all the right things to heal... I'm involved with my church, friends and neighbors, but I have severe bouts of sadness because something is still missing. I'm
not a special someone and never have been. So I'm chronically anxious and sad... with recurring terrible memories. I never feel like I belong anywhere really... and no matter the circumstances, I can't reveal to anyone the raw pain and damage that started when I was a very little girl. It would take me a lifetime and I'd be drained. So I pray for help and I try to talk to myself when flashbacks show up. I don't know anything more I can do.
Solid advice: “do something with those emotions.”
My mother mourned her mother’s death until her own dying day. I wish now that I had waded into the bucket of tears and dared to ask for information about the grandmother who I apparently look like and even sound like.
Relationships are so complicated…