“We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28
Dear Jesus, I dreaded Mother’s Day for decades, for I grew up in a church that celebrated Mother’s Day by everyone wearing a rose to honor their mother. If your mom was living, you’d wear a red rose; and if she had “passed,” you wore a white rose. From age eleven on I was marked as a white rose kid, and I hated it. I didn’t want the attention, or to remember the day mom was ripped from my life through a car wreck. So after a couple of “white rose Sundays,” I stopped going to church.
Seven years later, I came to know you Jesus, and soon discovered Romans 8:28 in my Bible. But, like Israel’s worse prophets (Jer.6:14), I tried to heal my heart wound “lightly,” using that verse as a Band-Aid for a “scratch.” instead of opting for open-heart surgery. But like all forms of denial, mine collapsed under the weight of time + reality + grace.
Jesus, you are a healer, not an illusionist. Healing is less about getting over pain, and more about growing through it. Now, Romans 8:28 claims me, I don’t claim it. It’s a promise of a healing journey, not a panacea for pretenders or an epidural for masking pain. The wounds we carry are to be a portal through which your mercy, grace, and love flow to others. Hallelujah, and thank you.
I miss Martha Ward Smith—“mom”—fiercely, and I so look forward to being with her in eternity. My wife, kids, grandkids never saw here striking brown eyes and beautiful brunet hair, or felt her kind touch or heard her infectious laugh. Gratefully, that will change one Day. The heart-void mom left is still real, and that’s where you still meet me, Jesus. Thank you, and So Very Amen.