So you missed your child’s awards ceremony. Or his end of the year bash. He reminded you about it 101 times. Told you when to be there. Where to sit. What to wear. And he talked about it so much you knew, to him, this wasn’t just another thing.
This was important.
And still you missed it, or showed up late, or came empty handed when you were supposed to bring flowers or a card or SOMETHING.
What kind of mother are you, anyway?
Who would do something like that?
You crucify yourself 1,000 times in your head when you see the clock and know you aren’t going to be there. And you could choke on your own inadequacies if that were actually possible.
Because, really, what kind of mother are you? What kind of mother misses the things? The really important things?
Go ahead and let the ugly words form on your lips. Confess the bitter self-hate that is swirling in your head. Let it out into the dead air, unleash those words to slaughter the fictitious you that is deserving of their punishment and then . . .
Let it go.
Let it float away into nothingness, right where self-hate belongs.
Because, chances are . . . you aren’t any of the things those words described. Chances are you were at your job, doing what you need to do for your family today and tomorrow and next week and next year. Or maybe you were tending to another child: a sick one, or a little one, or one who just wouldn’t go along for the ride on this day, at this time. Or maybe you were at the vet or taking care of grandma or doing any one of the three million important things that rip away a parent’s time.
Chances are, you were doing your best with the thing that needed you most at that particular moment in time.
And chances are, you could use a little grace.
Do you remember the story of Jesus when his friend Lazarus was sick?
In John 11, Lazarus (described as the one that Jesus loved) was very ill, and his sisters sent for Jesus to help.
When Jesus heard the news, he said that Lazarus’s sickness would not end in death. “It is for God’s glory,” he said, “so that God’s son might be glorified through it.” (John 11:4). But, inexplicably, he didn’t go to Lazarus. For two whole days, he stayed where he was.
And Lazarus died.
When Martha heard that Jesus was finally coming days after Lazarus’s death, she came to meet him and said, “If you had been here, my brother would not have died.” (John 11:21)
Does this sound familiar?
“Mom, if you had been here, __________.”
The weight of those six words can be crushing.
And Jesus heard them more than once. When Martha’s sister Mary came to meet Jesus, she also said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” (John 11:32)
And even Jesus, the God-man who already knew the beautiful outcome of this story, wept. We don’t know all the reasons he cried, but . . . I bet you and I could relate on many levels.
After all, haven’t we wept?
Haven’t we cried quietly in the car or the closet when we weren’t with the ones who needed us? When something sad happened that we could have prevented . . . if only we were there?
The end of the story is wonderful: Jesus went to Lazarus’s tomb, thanked his Father in heaven for hearing him, and ordered Lazarus to come out of the tomb. And the dead man rose and came out of the tomb, causing many of the Jews present to believe that Jesus was the Son of God. (John 11:41-45)
Everything worked out.
God was in control.
And God was glorified . . . but not in the way that Martha and Mary initially envisioned. And certainly not on their timeline.
So here is the grace for you: maybe you didn’t make it to the class party or the awards program or the end-of-the-school year shindig. Maybe you never make it. Maybe it was a one-time thing. Whatever the circumstances were surrounding your absence, perhaps it provided room for some small grace, some glimpse of God.
Maybe a teacher stepped in with a hug . . . or a classmate’s parent took pictures . . . or maybe your child internalized an important message about caring for others that he or she needed to receive while they looked in vain for your face in the crowd.
Maybe the impact of that grace wasn’t felt immediately and you are still hearing the “Mom, if you had been here, then . . . “ speeches. But, over time, perhaps that grace will become evident, and perhaps it will point up to a God who deserves the glory, who hears our prayers, and who makes all things good – even missed awards day programs.
So take a deep breath and inhale goodness and mercy. Just like Jesus in the story above, you can’t be in two places at once. But you can know that a God who can bring the dead to life is on your side, resurrecting beauty from your failed plans and unintended absences.
To God be the Glory!
Linda says
Melissa, what a beautiful reminder to those torn in too many different directions.
Melissa says
Glad you liked it and hope you are doing great!!
Tanja says
Beautifully written from my beautiful friend!