Day 88: Invisible is Not Your Middle Name

You will be a glorious crown in the Lord’s hand, and a royal diadem in the palm of your God’s hand. You will no longer be called Deserted, and your land will not be called Desolate; instead, you will be called My Delight Is in Her, and your land Married; for the Lord delights in you, and your land will be married. Isaiah 62:3–4

In his classic book Counterfeit Gods, Tim Keller wrote: “If we look to some created thing to give us the meaning, hope, and happiness that only God himself can give, it will eventually fail to deliver and break our hearts.”17 But boy that truism is sometimes like wet soap to me—it’s hard to hang onto.

For the better part of my adult life, Mother’s Day weekend was a painful reminder that I didn’t have a family of my own. Mind you, I tried not to act sad because I genuinely wanted to celebrate my sweet mama as well as the majority of my friends who have children. But there were hard moments when the act was hard to keep up, like when the ushers at church handed out roses to all the moms entering the sanctuary and I just smiled and shook my head “no” when they started to hand me a bloom, hoping my broken heart wasn’t too obvious as I walked past with what I hoped appeared to be a pleasant expression and willing myself not to tear up.

By the time I was in my forties I’d come to recognize and grieve the fact that my singleness was the direct result of my sinful choices, relational toxicity, and rebellion. Yet while repentance brought deeper peace with God and much healthier relationship patterns, it did not cause a prince to magically appear with a glass slipper that fit my middle-aged feet, nor did my womb revert to youthful elasticity like Sarah’s. It’s purely by God’s redemptive kindness that I now get handmade cards from my daughter on Mother’s Day, and while Missy’s love means more than I can express, I think I’ll always be mindful of the women who feel quiet despair on Mother’s Day.

So at the risk of meddling or sounding like some perky weight-loss coach who used to be pudgy, I encourage those of you who long for children of your own to love to marinate in these tangible promises of the One who has not forgotten you:

God sets the lonely in families. (Ps. 68:6a niv)

“Rejoice, childless one, who did not give birth; burst into song and shout, you who have not been in labor! For the children of the desolate one will be more than the children of the married woman,”says the Lord.“Enlarge the site of your tent, and let your tent curtains be stretched out; do not hold back; lengthen your ropes, and drive your pegs deep. For you will spread out to the right and to the left, and your descendants will dispossess nations and inhabit the desolate cities.” (Isa. 54:1–3)

And for what it’s worth, sometimes I gave myself a pass on Mother’s Day and skipped church, drove to Starbucks and ordered a mocha Frappuccino with extra whipped cream, then drove aimlessly down country roads with the sunroof open while blasting ’80s pop tunes. It really did help lessen the sting a bit.

• What date on the calendar or yearly anniversary always seems to make you feel invisible?
• What life stage are you tempted to think equates with “making it”?
• Why do you think achieving this life stage—or rather, not achieving it—has the power to make you feel despair? How has God proven Himself to be enough in past moments of despair?