Mother’s Day is a day to celebrate our dear mothers. Mother’s Day can be a great day but can be a painful day for those whose mothers are no longer here with us.

The sun was about to bid the day farewell. It had turned into a big, tan ball lingering on the threshold of the sky and the earth; day and night. The warmth of the sun was diminishing as a cool breeze began to sweep over the earth. Darkness encroached ever so slightly, as light progressively disappeared. The good day was coming to an end. ‘Say “Hi” to everyone. I am going to wait in the room,’ Rutendo said, as she descended down the stairs. Our room was on the ground floor facing west just a few feet from the lake. The jetty (dock) went from the edge of the building extending into the lake. The dock sat above the lake as if it were floating, rather hovering above the clear, glassy lake.

I rushed up the stairs to the school office. The School For Youth Leadership building in Lake Munmorah located in NSW Australia sat at the top of a steep flight of stairs. I walked past a couple of fellow students. The receiver of an old phone with a curled chord lay on the desk. I picked up the phone and said, ‘Hello’. On the other end of the line was a familiar voice. It was my sister, Sunbeam. Her voice was muted, broken, and somber. I could barely hear her, as she started crying. She paused for what seemed like an eternity.

My mind raced, rather spun in circles, as I tried to figure out what news she was about to share.  My heart thumped hard as if it would break my rib cage.

‘Rutendo’s mother just passed away…’ she said. What? Suddenly, I went blind – I saw nothing. My head seemed to go into a tailspin like I was being tossed back and forth, spinning in an emotional tornado. I did not hear anything else she said. My knees buckled under my frame, tumbling me into the chair. This sad, painful news came to me almost like a spear had been driven into my core. I sat there motionless. I felt warm tears trickle down my cheeks. I wept. I wept for my wife. I wept for my father-in-law. I wept for my wife’s siblings. How would I share this difficult news with Rutendo? How would I let Rutendo know her best friend, her mentor, her confidant had passed away? How? My feet were heavy as I began the descent to our room to share the news with my wife. This was the most painful news I have ever had to deliver. That became one of our darkest nights together.

Mother’s Day is a heavy day in our household. Mother’s Day is a reflection day in our household. Mother’s Day is a day of cherishing warm memories of my mother-in-law. Mother’s Day can be a painful day for those whose mothers are no longer here with us. If you lost your mother, you are not alone. Let this year’s Mother’s Day be a day to fondly remember and cherish the times you shared with your mother. Let this year’s Mother’s Day be the day you bring your raw pain to Jesus. Come cry at his feet. He will hear you and wipe your tears away. He cares for you. He loves you. You are not alone. Jesus is with you, through your darkest pain.

Embrace this Mother’s Day as a way of honouring your dear mother’s memory.

‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’ (Revelation 21:4)

‘The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.’ (Psalm 34:18)