Today, we celebrate Mother’s Day—a day overflowing with love and layered with complexity.

For some, it’s a day of joy, laughter, and gratitude for the women who raised us with strength, tenderness, and faith. We honor the mothers who packed lunches, held us through tears, prayed over us in the quiet hours, and offered the kind of love that shaped our very view of God’s mercy.

But this day holds more than one kind of story. It always has.

So today, we make room at the table for all the stories.

To the mother who has buried a child—whose arms ache with emptiness and whose heart still holds every birthday, every memory—you are not forgotten. God draws near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18), and your grief is holy ground.

To the woman who longs for a child, whose prayers are met with silence or loss—your tears are seen by the God who wept outside Lazarus’s tomb. You are not less than. You are deeply loved.

To the adoptive mom, who chose love in a different shape—you reflect the very heart of the gospel, which is always about grafting in, about claiming as beloved, about family formed in grace.

To the foster mom, who steps into the ache and stands in the gap—you are doing kingdom work. Thank you for showing up, again and again, with fierce, self-giving love.

To those who mother in ways that don’t come with a title—teachers, aunts, mentors, church leaders, neighbors, sisters—you are spiritual mothers, sowing seeds that will outlast you.

To the ones for whom today feels hollow because your mother is gone—you are held. May you find comfort in the One who promised never to leave you, even in the valley of shadows.

To those estranged or wounded by mothers who could not love well—God sees the child within you and offers the nurturing care you didn’t receive. His love is safe, steady, and healing.

To the mothers who are estranged from their children—who live with the ache of distance, misunderstanding, or silence—you carry a grief that is often invisible. Whether the rupture was your choice or theirs, God sees the tenderness and torment of your love. He is a Redeemer of broken things and a Comforter to those who wait in sorrow and hope.

And to those who have beautiful relationships with their moms—celebrate that gift. Hold it close. Give thanks.

Mother’s Day is not a single story. It’s a mosaic of joy and grief, presence and absence, celebration and longing. And Jesus—who gathered the grieving, the barren, the forgotten, and the beloved—makes room for every story.

So today, may we honor the mothers in our lives.
May we carry tenderness for the stories we don’t know.
And may we remember that God holds all things together—including the places that feel fractured and the prayers that still linger unanswered.

You are loved. You are seen. You are not alone.

“As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you…” — Isaiah 66:13