#ephesians64
To my mother,
and to the woman
I once hoped would become another—
I loved you both
with open hands,
even when life taught me
that open hands
sometimes come back empty.
I tried to build bridges
with words,
with patience,
with forgiveness that sat heavy
inside my chest.
I tried to become family
through loyalty,
through effort,
through simply showing up.
But some endings
do not arrive quietly.
Some shatter.
Some leave the heart standing
in rooms that no longer feel welcoming.
And ours ended drastically—
with distance, silence,
and truths too painful
to dress beautifully.
Still, I do not hate you.
Because God gave me a heart
that continues to love
even after disappointment.
A heart that remembers
Exodus 20:12—
to honor thy father and thy mother—
even when the relationship trembles
like weak branches in a storm.
And maybe that is my blessing
and my burden.
To keep loving.
To keep praying.
To keep honoring
what once hurt me.
Now I look at my sons
and I pray differently.
I pray they grow knowing
that love should feel safe,
that mothers deserve gentleness,
that fathers should lead with wisdom,
and that family should never become
a battlefield of pride.
I may not have received
every version of love
I once reached for,
but God still trusted me enough
to become a mother myself.
And that alone
reminds me
that broken relationships
cannot break
the purpose God placed inside me.
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 1:45 PM UTC