by Maya (Guest writer)
I dreamed of having a mom I could always call. Always go home to. The sound of a warm voice on the other end of the phone saying, “I love you, daughter. I can’t wait for us to spend time together!” The pain of this unfulfilled dream increases with the holidays.
For some, the colors of fall mark the beginning of planning family gatherings. For me, it begins an annual waiting game. Would I have anywhere to go?
My first mom gave me away. My second died of cancer. My third has walls like a fortress that keep love from getting in or coming out. This year, her only words to me were the cold declaration of why I wasn’t invited. Last year she ghosted me. Sometimes I think that the holiday season is a wilderness every motherless daughter walks through. We avoid talking about it, but we still hunger for that safe connection with our mom.
So how do I say goodbye to the mother I never had?
This morning I found myself drawn to Deuteronomy 8:3. These were the words Jesus quoted while in His own wilderness.
Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.
I immediately put my Bible down and asked myself, “If I’m hungering, does that mean I’m feeding off something other than His word? Have my longings become a weight holding me back? Am I so fixated on what’s not there that I’m rejecting what is?” It was something I needed to ponder.
Releasing the dream has felt impossible. The dream of having a physically and emotionally present mom to spend the holidays with. The dream of having a safe home I can always go back to. The dream of knowing that I’m wanted, loved and cherished by my mom. The rejection grips tight.
So today I asked God to give me a new dream. I asked Him to replace what I didn’t have with what He did have for me. In that prayer I found a gentle quieting in my heart. I felt the tender reassurance that I always have a place at His table. He chooses me to be His daughter and puts His name on me. I do belong. His love towards me is firmly in place. I can boldly declare these as absolute truths no matter how things look or feel.
This year, I’m not entering into the holiday season from a place of starvation. Instead of fixating on the feeling of not belonging, I’m putting my eyes on The One I belong to. He’s not just a father to the fatherless. He’s also a mother to the motherless. With that thought I picked my Bible back up and began again to drink the milk of His Word.