Holding the tension of “and” as we celebrate Mother’s Day.

I’ve noticed a growing trend over the last several years of voices advocating for churches to stop celebrating Mother’s Day. One writer shared how her family now skips church on Mother’s day.  She writes of the deep pain the day carries for so many, including her own family.  She expresses anger that the church would cause some to feel left out, instead of being a place of belonging for all, by celebrating the day. She challenges readers to remember the pain surrounding those who have a different story other than “happily ever after” around motherhood. 

While I do believe she offers a beautiful reminder to be mindful of those who are hurting on Mother’s day, I’m not convinced her response to avoid church is a helpful model of response to pain for the body of Christ.  As a woman who carries a painful story of my own journey to motherhood, I appreciate her passionate response and empathy but I think she might be missing an opportunity to experience healing.   

Rejoice and weep

Instead, can we hold the tension of “and” on Mother’s day? Paul offers us wisdom in Romans 12:15 saying, “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” The comma between these two phrases should cause us to pause.  The comma is an AND not an OR. Is it possible for us to be people who weep with those who are grieving AND rejoice with those who are celebrating? What happens when people in the middle of grief and people at the height of celebration are in a shared space at the same time? In a church. At a dining room table. Around the living room. On a day that our culture deems the celebration of mothers.

In my own commitment to embrace the “and”, I think of women in my life who desire to celebrate the gift of mothering.  I think of a young mom friend who has adopted 3 children in the last 2 years and now celebrates Mother’s day after a long season of waiting. She carries the tension of grieving the loss of her own mother AND the joy of entering into motherhood, in a way that she never anticipated. Another dear friend is pregnant with her second child after numerous miscarriages and now being “advanced maternal age. “ She had given up on the dream of becoming a mother again when God created life in her womb unexpectedly.  

What about women who want to honor spiritual mothers who filled a gap or added to their own mother’s influence in their life?  How about the mom who experienced a miscarriage and months later is newly pregnant with a rainbow baby? She’s carrying the tension of grieving a loss AND rejoicing at the gift of a life in her womb.  

Stories around motherhood

I experienced three miscarriages before the birth of our first daughter, Hailey. I endured months of infertility testing and procedures to figure out why my body couldn’t seem to hold onto a baby. Over three years, I lived in a season of longing, waiting and loss before I held a baby in my arms on Mother’s Day. I remember standing in the front of our small church family that day, weeping as I held her.  I spoke of God’s faithfulness through a season of suffering.  I rejoiced over the gift of her life even as I recalled the losses we endured to get to that moment.  I held the tension of joy and sorrow with my church family. 

In our old neighborhood, an elderly couple lived across the street from us.  We lived in that house for fourteen years and I never knew Jo’s story around motherhood.  I only knew that she didn’t have children. Nieces and nephews would often show up at her house to care for her.  One Mother’s day, our church decided to provide all the children with a single flower to give to their mothers as a moment of honoring them. 

What happened instead was the children handed out a flower to ALL the women in the room, regardless of the title of “mother.” It became this beautiful reminder that ALL women are mothering, in some capacity. As we pulled into our driveway that day after church, I felt compelled to take all the remaining flowers and bring them across the street to Jo. When she opened her door to greet me, she was overwhelmed by the surprise of it all.  That anyone would think of her on Mother’s day! She pulled me into her arms with tears of gratitude. It became a yearly tradition for me (or our daughters) to show up on her doorstep with flowers and remind her that she deserved to be celebrated.

Choosing both

Maybe it feels like you have to choose between celebrating and grieving on Mother’s day.  I believe it’s possible to do both.  Shouldn’t this be what it looks like to weep with those who are weeping and rejoicing with those who are rejoicing?  That weeping and rejoicing can be in the same room together.  We can acknowledge and offer tender, compassionate care for those who are experiencing grief on Mother’s day. For those who have experienced the loss of a mother or a child. Or those who grieve a mother-in-law, a sister, or a friend who was a lovely mother. For those in our community who have broken relationships or are estranged from their moms.  For those who are still trying to forgive a mother. 

We can rejoice and celebrate with the first time moms and the moms who are pregnant after loss. We can honor the mothers who have had an impact on us and the spiritual mothers who have adopted us in belonging to their family.  We can encourage the moms who walk in the same season of motherhood with us: with babies, toddlers, school-age children, or teens.  We can honor the grandmothers who are leaving a legacy, even in their imperfect ways. 

Found in a family

Could the church do better around a holiday like this? Possibly.  The church is intended to be a family where the lost are found.  Maybe the one who has experienced birth after miscarriage could wrap her arms around the woman whose heart is broken by infertility.  The mother who has patiently waited for the adoption to be final could embrace the mother who had no plans of or feels shame in being pregnant.  The daughter who has experienced the loss of her mother could comfort the mother who has lost a daughter.  The spiritual mother who welcomes daughters in her home prays over the young woman who experiences pain and brokenness from the relationship with her biological mother. 

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.

2 Corinthians 1: 3-5 

As we enter into  various spaces tomorrow on Mother’s Day, let’s be people who hold the beauty of “and.”   Grief and Celebration.  Sadness and Joy.   Remembering and Hoping.  In the waiting and having received. There’s room at the altar, around the table or in the community for all the women, all who carry in them the longing for and the living out of “mothering.”