A Mother’s Day Reflection for Every Story
By Shannon Scott
Mother’s Day is often wrapped in flowers, cards, and sentiment. But underneath the surface, for many women, it’s also layered with complexity. For some, it brings joyful memories. For others, it resurfaces longing, grief, or quiet questions we rarely utter out loud. No matter what this day stirs in you, here’s what I want you to know: You are seen. You are known. You are deeply loved by the God who crafted your story—and He’s holding every part of it with tenderness.
Let’s begin by naming something unalterably true: You are the right mom for the job. Whether your days are full of bedtime routines or empty nest transitions, whether your motherhood looks traditional or unexpected, God didn’t make a mistake when He entrusted you with this story. Ephesians 2:10 reminds us that we are His workmanship, created for good works He prepared in advance. You don’t have to be perfect—just present, faithful, and open to His voice. Even on the days you feel like you’re barely holding it together, He is at work.
And if today “mother” doesn’t feel like the right word for your season, take heart. Maybe you’re a spiritual mother, offering care and counsel without biological children. Maybe you’re grieving what could’ve been, or carrying a hidden sorrow no one else sees. Your nurturing, your prayers, your presence—they still matter. They reflect the heart of a God who redeems every offering and calls it holy.
There’s something sacred about the shadows. Those unseen moments of mothering—and longing to mother—that don’t make it into Instagram captions. The midnight feedings, the unanswered prayers, the quiet service that never gets applause. Psalm 56:8 reminds us that God keeps count of every tear and every restless night. That means you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone—not to the world, other moms, or even the version of yourself you hoped to be by now. He delights in your quiet faithfulness, not for what you produce, but simply because you are His.
When my own mom was diagnosed with dementia, I found myself in a new and unfamiliar role that I felt ill-equipped to carry. How do I mother the one who mothered me? How do I love well when I can’t fix what’s broken? This has definitely felt like a shadow season.
But in the absence of answers, I show up. I sit with her. I laugh with her. I step into what she now believes reality to be, even though it’s far from what’s actually true. And I remember so much good about my life with her and the blessing God gave me when he made me Rita’s daughter.
Romans 12:15 invites us to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep. Jesus modeled this kind of ministry—He didn’t rush people through their pain, He entered it with them. Sometimes, the most powerful ministry we offer is just the ministry of presence. Real love isn’t flashy. Often, it’s folding laundry, making the call, showing up anyway. Presence, even in silence, can be holy ground.
And then there are the stories that look different than we expected. Hope deferred, Proverbs says, makes the heart sick. Maybe you’ve walked through infertility, miscarriage, or a deeply selfless adoption decision. Maybe Mother’s Day reminds you more of what’s missing than what’s present.
Your story is not “less than.” It is not forgotten. You don’t need to wrap it in a bow to make it beautiful. God isn’t waiting for a resolution to begin redeeming—He meets you in the waiting, in the ache, in the places that still feel undone. He’s near to the brokenhearted and gently carries what feels too heavy to hold.
Mommas, even when your days feel ordinary—maybe especially then—your love is sacred. Colossians 3:23 reminds us that whatever we do, we can do it for the Lord. That includes carpool lines, picking up Legos, peanut butter sandwiches, bedtime prayers, sick days, and science fair projects. These small acts of faithfulness are not lost on God. He sees the love behind every routine, the faith behind the fatigue, the prayers whispered over homework or heartache. What feels like a blur of laundry and logistics is actually the slow, quiet forming of souls. You are sowing seeds of eternal impact and stewarding well what God has entrusted you to carry.
As we move into Mother’s Day, I invite you to exhale. Whether you’re experiencing the supreme joy that comes with new life, giggling, and cooing, or whether you’re grieving a complicated relationship with your own Mother, God is holding your story. Whether you’re teaching a teenager to drive or lamenting a teenager who’s far from God, He is holding your story. Whether your nest is bustling with activity or emptier this year, God is holding your story. Colossians 1:17 says He is before all things, and by Him all things hold together—including you. The victories and regrets, the what-ifs and I-wish-I-hads—every chapter is wrapped in His grace. You are not carrying this alone. The same God who knit you together and shaped your heart to love is still sustaining you.
And no matter what this particular Mother’s Day brings, you are deeply loved.
Loved if you’re celebrated with cards and hugs.
Loved if your arms are aching from loss or longing.
Loved if you’re mentoring, nurturing, or leading without the title of “mom.”
Loved if today feels like a marker of what you hoped would be but isn’t.
Loved because the God who formed you is also the God who comforts you—with the tenderness of a mother (Isaiah 66:13), and the strength of a Savior.
So to every woman navigating this day with grace or grit—or both—know this:
You are seen, sustained, and surrounded by the love of a God who makes all things beautiful in time—including your story.
Happy Mother’s Day.
