Dear Moms,

Thank you. Thank you for saying yes to the call of motherhood. I acknowledge that your yes to their life very likely opened up a world of “no’s” in your own life. You are seen and you are appreciated, let’s begin there.

When I was a little girl, I was so fortunate to have grown up with some amazing parents. By Highschool, my mom was already my best friend. She would pull me out of school when she could sense my performance-driven nature had gripped me a little too tightly and we would spend the day at the mall, shopping and talking about everything. Over a decade later, aside from my husband, she is still my best friend. In fact, I always dreamt of having my own daughter one day so I could have that same kind of relationship with her. God had other plans, though. And I’m so glad he did because I truly could not picture my life without my two boys.

I don’t know what your mom was like. Whether she was wonderful or mean. Whether you could always spot her in the front row or if you were lucky if she remembered what sport you played. Maybe she’s still your best friend. Maybe you never got the chance to find out because in a cruel unfolding of circumstance, she was taken from you too soon. What I think we could all probably agree on, though, is how critical of a role mothers play in their children’s lives. For better or worse, we need them to love us. We crave their acceptance. We long for their affection. And it really doesn’t take much to feel it on a deeply cosmic level. 

Yes, you are surely seen and appreciated, but beyond that, you are undeniably and inexplicably needed.

I cannot shake a scene from The Chosen series where the disciples are sitting around a campfire waiting on Jesus when Mother Mary joins them. They begin to ask her what it was like giving birth to the Messiah and I’ll never forget her response. “It was…not what I expected,” she paused. She begins to describe a scene very much akin to what you or I may have experienced in our own birth stories (minus the hay and the donkeys), and she finally resolved, “I don’t remember much, but I remember that he cried and he needed me.” The Savior of the world, perfection embodied, was fully and utterly dependent on his mother’s love. Her embrace is what kept him warm, her breasts are what filled his belly. How much more reliant on a mother, then, is the rest of humanity?

Yes, you are surely seen and appreciated, but beyond that, you are undeniably and inexplicably needed. You are not perfect, but your child doesn’t need perfect. They need you to be there. To keep showing up. To keep owning your faults. To keep reminding them that they are loved and seen and enough. And if I had to bet, you are already doing all of those things amazingly. 

So if you wake up on Sunday morning to a sink full of dirty dishes and breakfast that’s not going to cook itself, I hope you find solace in the fact that you play a role that the world could not live without. Dare I say, if it wasn’t for the mothers rising up to the challenge, the state of our world would be far more grim. Remember that when it feels like your existence has been reduced to breaking up sibling rivalries and sweeping up crumbs. You are raising up doctors and scientists and artists and inventors and social workers. You are calling forth a generation of activists and creators and law-makers. All because you said yes that first time. His Spirit is changing hearts, but He is surely using you as his vessel.