Mothers hold their children’s hands for a short while, but their hearts forever. – Author Unknown
This week my 13-year-old daughter has been dealing with a tragedy. On Tuesday, she spent the day consoling her best friend. When Emily returned home, see came into our bedroom, curled up in her mother’s lap and let the tears fall.
Mary Beth knew exactly what to do.
Death’s sting is being felt in my corner of the world.
But the tragedy isn’t stopping the community from coming together to offer relief to a family’s pain. There’s no question Mother’s Day will be bittersweet as one mother grieves while the other mothers hold onto their children a little tighter.
While this week’s heartbreak doesn’t make sense, one thing has been made painfully clear: The way of a mother isn’t measured by the number of recital concerts attended; the way of a mother is measured by how often she covers her child in love and then crawls inside so the child never feels alone in this world, or in the next.
After what I’ve witnessed this week, I believe fathers share a part of their child’s heart; mothers share a part of their child’s soul.
My hope on this Mother’s Day is that my corner of the world can remind the rest of the world that the love of a mother is one the most beautiful thing God creates.
If that happens, then maybe something good can come from this tragedy.