Mother’s Day Weekend.

This morning, I read a blog post titled “In Case Mother’s Day is Hard for You”. It caught my eye because in the past few days, my heart has been broken for the people whom this blog describes: the mom whose heart is reminded— “the one you gave up…the kid you lost to something bigger than you…the one you worry you’re failing” and the child whose mind is bombarded by the effects of “the one you loved so much who couldn’t love you back…the one you lost too soon… the one you can never please”.


My Sunday began at church in a children’s home. My 19-year-old friend stood up to share his testimony, one that carries much power and redemption. When he gets to one point, he breaks: “As I grew up, I began to realize that my mom wasn’t there. I didn’t know her. I haven’t seen her in 16 years…”

Before lunch, I’m holding a strong little girl who is fighting to run away, hugging her. Earlier that day, my coworker told me that Sundays are always a hard day for this little one, as she waits for a family that doesn’t come. This weekend was especially difficult.

I sit down to eat lunch with a young friend, but she doesn’t have a plate in front of her. She doesn’t want to eat, not now. There is something deep in her eyes. We sit in silence, making friendship bracelets for the rest of the afternoon. She says there is nothing wrong but her face and silence tell me her mind is full.

An 11-year-old girl keeps coming back to the palapa to ask the director if her mom has showed up yet. He tells her no, it might be because of the rain. She waits all day. Her mom never comes.

A 6-year-old boy receives a visit from his dad and grandma. His mother passed away, and grandma took care of him until she was too old. She kisses him goodbye and firmly says “You know, you have to stay here”. He fights back the tears as he walks away from his father’s big bear hug. Later, I see him turn his head, pull out a tissue and let a few fall. I wonder if the grandma who loved him, but just could no longer provide feels the same pain this mother’s day.

The realities are heavy—Broken relationships, moms that just aren’t there.

Some days the things that I see overwhelm me more than others. This was not just any day—I left heavy on the behalf of moms, kids and grandmas. On the bus ride home, the visiting American group and I raised our unified voices in prayer on their behalf. It’s the best we have to give.

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