Mother’s Day just passed and it’s my 1st Blogiversary!!!
This post is an embodiment of the reason I blog. I want to bring glory to God as He allows me to offer help and hope to folks with overlooked issues. I pray that this post encourages you on your journey. BLESSINGS! K
In America, Mother’s Day is, officially, a day of happy celebration: positive feelings of gratitude and thankfulness are front-loaded into festivities for the beauty filled, graceful people we also call mama, aunt, sister, grandmother, friend, bonus mom.
Because these dear ones loved us, reared us, were safe places to run to despite the savage storms of life, mentored us, sent us to college, counseled us, instilled the motivation, the vision to achieve more and grow more than we knew was possible these mothers of all types and stripes do more than merely inhabit precious real estate in our hearts they themselves are precious.
The gifts we select and send herald our love and elegantly announce accolades which speak to their much deserved, honorable position.
Honoring the Hard and Happy Nature of some Mother’s Day Celebrations
However, for countless others, Mother’s Day is far more complicated.
Behind the cultural script of celebration lies a quieter reality: blinding sorrow, emotional conflict, rage, bitterness, disturbing memories for mothers and children alike.
This was my story for many years.
My mother’s and my relationship took a terrible turn and was stuck for years with me being about 8 years old.
This was about the time when my mother allowed me to be abused during a “church” service.
Haunted by “Church,” Healed by Christ
My parents had become Christians at a mainline denomination but then left that church to attend a more modern one.
The new church was about a 15-minute bus ride away from our house. Aaaand it was bumpin’!
The minister was youngish. He was a fiery preacher with powerful communication gifts. He and his wife had one son about my age.
The band was on point. A good-sized crowd attended on Sundays. You get the picture. The optics of this gathering were perfect.
Although I was young, it appeared, even to me, to be a Christ-honoring, Bible-based church. I got saved there at the, thankfully now-defunct You In Christ Temple when I was 8 years old.
However, and a very tragic “however” it is, as best as I can piece together from my reflections, that church devolved into a cult.
So, SUPER weird things were going on, and, for a while both my parents were good with it because, I believe, they were new Christians and didn’t know better.
At some point my dad was done with the foolishness the main one being the pastor, who began to call himself “the son of god.” No seriously.
My parents were young and full of religious fervor. They had met the true Son of God, Jesus, the Christ and then were promptly deceived.
The scriptures are full of warnings about deceptions from within a congregation:
I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting him who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel— not that there is another one, but there are some who trouble you and want to distort the gospel of Christ.
Galatians 1:6-7 English Standard Version
2 Corinthians 11:3, Ephesians 4:14, and Colossians 2:8 are all examples of the Apostle Paul’s warnings about the existence of deceivers (wolves) mixed in with the true believers (sheep) who are in danger of losing their faith if they, in fact, follow the false teaching.
I don’t ever remember the guy calling himself Jesus. His name was “son of god” which, in this moment, I am deliberately not capitalizing as I would for, Jesus, the Messiah and true Son of God.
There would be times when “god” through a “prophet” would speak to the pastor, aka “the son of god,” publicly, audibly in front of the congregation. I believe that this was completely faked or that a demon was speaking.
I don’t remember the adults’ reactions during these times, but I was always terrified. You never knew what would happen to you when the “prophet” spoke, who was a pretty young woman, by the way, whose voice would deepen to speak the prophecies.
Sometimes the pronouncements were sexual in nature, and at others, financial, usually angry. I was beyond fearful. I hated the prophetic utterances.
One night, and I don’t remember if I did something (or absolutely nothing) to somehow attract attention, but I think it was during a prophetic moment that, one day, I was singled out as “the devil” in the service, in front of the congregation by the pastor, the so-called “son of god.”
What followed for me in that particular service was a public, sexualized abuse shaming me in a way that haunted me until relatively recently.
Oh – but the true Son of God set me free – Hallelujah!!
In the process of healing, which, for me, included two rounds of therapy, Jesus set me free from the shame, the unforgiveness, the bitterness, anger, and blame I heaped upon the one who hurt me and the one who was there in that sham of a service and did nothing to protect me: my mom.
Thankfully, not all and not even most, I pray, mother-child relationships are marked by tangled years of hurt, unhappiness, anger, misunderstanding, absence, unforgiveness, abuse, or time spent in a cult, God forbid.
For those navigating estrangement, Mother’s Day can feel like a reminder of what’s broken—a painful contrast to the carefully curated and filtered happiness in social media posts and commercials.
Children who are estranged from their mothers—or vice versa—may carry a private ache. Mine was.
For years after, when I was old enough, I did the dutiful daughter things: I bought gifts and tried to feel better toward my mom.
For her part, in many ways, my mom was a good mother. She cooked delicious meals, kept our home clean with our help, corrected us, and did other good mommy things like teach us, my brothers and I, how to tell right from wrong.
However, one thing we never, EVER did? We NEVER spoke of that time in our lives.
Following those years, after leaving the cult we, again, joined a more mainline church.
Mommy and Daddy solidified their Christian life with not only religious feelings, but also with both holy and human affections informed by and tied to the truth of the Bible. I tell you, my faith and that of my family is a miracle.
Without being hateful and mean to folks, my mom and dad, nevertheless, could spot deception and error quickly. That clarity and humility came at a high cost for my family.
Grieving the Loss of a Mother
For those who have lost their mothers, Mother’s Day is another reminder of the absence. The world keeps celebrating while they navigate grief, whether fresh or long-standing.
A favorite song, a familiar recipe, or a fleeting memory can bring tears when least expected.
In the years since her passing, I find that different years feel different. For example, last year at Mother’s Day I was suffering through deep sorrow. This year not as much. I am learning to accept and to navigate the feelings as they arrive.
This loss can be especially heavy for those whose relationships with their mothers were warm, strong and nurturing.
The happy memories! The love! The laughter! The longing to be in her arms within the circle of her embrace again is intense and achingly human. Just one more hug mom! Just one more.
For those of us whose relationships were complicated, we mourn what was and what never had a chance to be, both carry weight.
Mothers Grieving Their Children
Dr. A. R. Bernard, the founding pastor of Christian Cultural Center, a multi-location megachurch in Brooklyn, NY, while reflecting on his wife’s grief over the loss of their oldest son, said:
“You don’t just bury a son, you bury dreams. You bury birthdays, you bury laughter at the dinner table and the way he always hugged her just a second longer than necessary and he did it every time.
People say he’s in a better place and this she knows; but, that doesn’t stop the ache of the empty place at her table.”
Whether through miscarriage, stillbirth, illness, accident, shooting, suicide or other forms of violence the loss of a child reshapes a mother’s very identity.
I hasten to add that separation due to political ideology or coming out as LGBTQIA+ can be a divisive experience within a family affecting mother and child including adult children.
When society signals celebration of motherhood, these moms feel the sharpness of absence. Their status is still real— of course —but it often goes unacknowledged and unseen in the midst of celebratory noise.
Invisible Motherhood
There are also women who long to be mothers but cannot. For them, this day can open wounds of infertility, miscarriage, failed adoption and failed relationships with their partners.
The grief of unrealized motherhood is deep and often invisible to others, especially when surrounded by reminders of the very thing for which their heart searches.
There are older mothers whose children rarely call or visit. These dear ones almost feel erased by their now adult children. Mom, we see you. You don’t want to take over. You just want to feel included, appreciated and remembered.
Creating Space for All Stories
Mother’s Day can be a time of honoring, but also of honesty. Let’s make it ok if this day brings more sorrow than joy. Let’s make it ok if it’s a hard and happy day.
If you’re someone for whom Mother’s Day feels heavy and challenging you are not alone.
Your story matters, even if it doesn’t fit into a greeting card. Take the space you need. Honor what you truly feel. True gatherings of genuine Christians may be able to provide just the understanding that you need.
Sometimes, acknowledging the pain is its own kind of healing.
If Mother’s Day is a joyful, happy day for you—we celebrate with and for you. But, please, if you can, take a moment to offer quiet compassion for those who walk a different path.
When I was a teen mom, eventually, my parents began to include me in their Mother’s Day celebrations. I appreciated their kindness so very much.
A gentle text, a hug, flowers or simply holding space for someone’s grief can mean more than you know.
Motherhood, in all its forms and absences, is often not simple. On a day full of expectations, perhaps the most loving thing we can offer is grace—for ourselves, and for each other.
On this hard and happy Mother’s Day – Blessings!
xoxoKimberly
Help! Love, MOM 
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