Mother’s Day has a way of stirring both joy and ache in a woman’s heart. For some, it is filled with laughter, handpicked flowers, and the sweet noise of little ones. For others, it is quieter—marked by absence, memories, and the tender spaces where loved ones once stood.
There were years when this day was marked by sticky fingers, handmade cards, and the joyful noise of boys growing into men. Now, most of the year, the house is quiet. We moved to Ohio four years ago, and this home has never known the everyday rhythms of our sons. Instead, it holds something different: the sacred echo of Christmas mornings, laughter around the table, and the brief but beautiful moments when they return.
My boys are grown now, 26 and 23. Both are married, both serve in church ministry, leading others in worship, and investing in the next generation. As a mother, there is no greater joy than to see your children walking with the Lord. And yet, if I’m honest, there are moments when the stillness lingers a little longer than I expect.
And on days like this, I find myself missing my own mother too. She used to gently remind me, “Remember whose you are.” It was her way of saying I was not only her daughter, but more importantly, a daughter of Jesus. I find myself holding onto those words more tightly now.
Scripture says, “Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth” (Psalm 127:4). Arrows aren’t meant to stay—they are prepared and then released. We raise them, we pray over them, and eventually, we trust God with where they land.
What a sacred and stretching calling that is.
In this season, the rhythm of motherhood shifts. The constant activity gives way to quieter days, and the role you once carried so fully looks a little different. It’s a change that can feel both beautiful and unfamiliar all at once.
And yet, even here, God is at work—steady, faithful, and near in ways we might not have noticed.
This home may be quiet, but it isn’t empty.
It’s filled with memories, answered prayers, and reminders of God’s faithfulness—both in what was and in what continues to grow beyond these walls.
And even now, He is teaching me what it means to stay rooted in Him.
