I had to take a bit of a bloggy break to work on a different writing project. It had pretty much been ages and ages since I’d needed to write something. You’ll never guess what it was.
Ok, I’ll just tell you. A sermon. I gave the message at our church on Mother’s Day. You know what? I’m just going to say it. I PREACHED. Ha!
I don’t have an official, written down bucket list, but if I did that would have been on it. It’s something I’ve wanted to do since probably my sophomore year of college. And this particular message was something I’d either wanted to say or hear for about 10 years. So it was really amazing to do it. I felt very blessed to have been asked. Somehow, even though I’d wanted to do it forever, by the time Sunday rolled around I really couldn’t believe it was happening.
It was important for it to be Mother’s Day. It’s a glorious and lovely day for a lot of people. But it can also come with an awful lot of hurt. From bad relationships with a mother to not being able to have children – there are so many ways it can be difficult for people. Many years ago, I sat in the back of a church on Mother’s Day all hopped up on fertility hormones wondering if I would ever be a mother. A couple months later I had a miscarriage. By the next Mother’s Day I was extremely pregnant with Ella, but I have never ever forgotten how I felt that day. Every year, I just wonder who is feeling that kind of pain around me. And a lot of times we sort of gloss over that – or at the very least, it doesn’t occur to us. Last year our pastor had talked about it, and said it’s the reason he doesn’t really like to preach on Mother’s Day. I decided I’d do it this year. But I never said a word. Then one day we were having a conversation and he said he’d like to have a woman speak at our church, and would I maybe be interested sometime? I’LL DO MOTHER’S DAY. Sold!
I was so confident that God had put that message in the center of my heart for so very long, that every minute just felt amazing. Like I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do. Not for the rest of my life or anything, but that day. Like when we first came to this town, I knew it would be home. And the first Sunday we went to our church, I knew it was where we were supposed to be. This felt the same way. Like saying those words was the right thing to do.
And then I went home and got sick. Within an hour I was all achy, and I had a low fever and super sore throat. So I spent the rest of my Mother’s Day alternating between watching Food Network in the recliner and watching the PBS show “Finding Your Roots” on my iPad in bed.
Oddly enough, that was exactly what I’d asked for. Just without the sick part.