It’s Mother’s Day.
In many churches there is a celebration of moms.
Because everyone had a mom.
Because the work of a mom is often overlooked around church.
It may be the hardest day of church in the whole year, perhaps the hardest day of life in the whole year.
Tish Harrison Warren reminds us that Mother’s Day isn’t a liturgical holiday, part of the church calendar, part of the story of your advent, birth, life, death, resurrection, ascension and return.
And so we have to ask whether we are following your command to love one another by elevating the status of mothers with words of glorification without being honest about the pain and ambiguity that elevation causes to so many people.
I come to you, God, from a heart requesting your blessing for others today.
For each family separated by hospitalization today, Christ, have mercy.
For all of us whose mothers have died, Christ, have mercy.
For all the people whose mother died in the last year, with little contact with their families, Christ, have mercy.
For all the moms who thought they would be holding an infant today and instead are holding a hole in their heart, Christ, have mercy.
For all the moms who will never again be called mom, Christ, have mercy.
For all the moms who cannot figure out how to sort through the feelings of today, Christ, have mercy.
For all the women who have been made to feel unvaluable for lack of a child, forgive our sin against them. Christ, have mercy.
For those whose mothers were truly awful, Christ, have mercy.
For those who mother without biological connection, Christ, have mercy.
For the way your church who has not figured out how to value the stories of women as gospel carriers, forgive our sin and have mercy on them, and on us.
For those who are moms, caring for children in chaos and grief and life, Christ, have mercy.
May each of us know that you know our story and that you love us, enough that you call us friends, Jesus.
We ask you, Christ, our Lord.