My hat is off to you. I wish we could sit down together and chat and remind each other that it’s going to be okay. That we’ll be okay and that God is bringing us through.
Some days when I’m bone weary, I think about you — laboring well after everyone’s in bed. Making hundreds of decisions, big and small. Anesthetizing the evenings with a mindless screen.
That heaviness in your shoulders you’ve grown used to? Maybe no one else sees but I know about it. You’ve gotten used to knots in your neck and thoughts that can’t be switched off, swirling between the must-do’s of today and the what if’s of tomorrow.
It’s not as easy as you make it look. But you don’t really share it because who in the world could you share all of it with? And then, too, better to shield the ones you love from the gritty hard.
Consider this my warmest Atta Girl, from one who knows your feats, your feelings of failure, the pain that threatens to paralyze.
Consider this a huge, virtual hug. Not the sideways kind of hug but the lean-on-me sort that lingers long and lets you know that someone else gets it.
All those years I was married, I’d known single moms and I’d heard the stats about single moms. But I really had no idea. Overwhelmed isn’t a season for single moms; it’s the rhythm of her days. Overwhelmed emotionally, overwhelmed with finances, overwhelmed with decisions and leaky air conditioners and countless tasks that need attention.
Overwhelmed trying to re-create that magical family life you had and so desperately want again for your children.
I know most days you’ve had to grow more spine than you ever thought possible. Folks think you are one strong woman.
But that’s the shell that you’ve had to be. In the protected corners of your heart, you feel so fragile. And how you’d love to trade in that strength and give it to someone you could trust.
I know single parenting has brought you to your knees. It was hard enough when there were two and but now you’re a student all over again begging God for wisdom to parent these kids — and teens and grown children — alone.
And the labels stink. Widowed. Divorced. Who knew so many forms needed to define you? Different labels and yet both sharing a death. Both broken. Both limping. Both figuring out who you are on the other side of marriage.
Single mama, you are seen and you are loved.
God has so much for you. He is not a god of surviving or getting-by. He is God of life abundant.
God promises strength to the weary and generous wisdom to those who ask. He promises to heal the broken, to turn weeping to dancing and mourning to joy.
God promises that wait, you will see goodness in the land of the living.
If you’d like encouragement delivered right to your inbox, you can subscribe here and receive the free download.