Mothers Day- The Ordinary Moments Became the Sacred Ones

Mother’s Day has changed for me over the years.

There was a time when it felt simple. Flowers. Cards. Lunch reservations. Phone calls.

And now… it feels tender in a way I didn’t fully understand before grief entered the picture.

Because when your mom is no longer here, you realize how many ordinary moments quietly held you together.

I still catch myself wanting to call her.

Not always for the big things either.

Sometimes it’s something small.
A funny story.
A hard day.
A new webinar I’m nervous about.
A moment where I wish someone could reassure me the way only a mother can.

And for a split second, my brain still forgets she’s gone.

I think grief does that sometimes.

It lets love linger so deeply that your heart still reaches before reality catches up.

The last years of my mom’s life became sacred to me in ways I didn’t recognize at the time.

We had lunch together every single week.

And now I look back and realize those lunches were never really about food.

They were about connection.

About being known by someone who had watched my whole life unfold.

She would ask about my dreams.
My boys.
My struggles.
My newest idea.

And somehow she had this way of making even my smallest hopes feel important.

She showed up for my Zooms and webinars like they were front-row events.

And if I’m honest… there were seasons where she believed in me more than I believed in myself.

That kind of love changes a person.

And I think what I miss most is not just her…

It’s the feeling of being fully seen by her.

There’s something about a mother’s belief in you that settles into your bones.

Even now, years later, I still carry her voice with me.

Sometimes when I’m doubting myself.
Sometimes when I’m tired.
Sometimes when I’m stepping into something new.

I still hear the encouragement.

I still feel the support.

And maybe that’s one thing grief has taught me…

Love doesn’t always leave when a person does.

Sometimes it keeps living inside of you.

Mother’s Day can hold a lot of emotions at once.

Joy.
Gratitude.
Ache.
Longing.
Memories.
Even loneliness.

And I think sometimes we put pressure on ourselves to make the day look beautiful when underneath it… it might feel complicated.

So today, I just want to hold space for all of it.

For the women celebrating with full hearts.
For the women grieving quietly.
For the women becoming mothers without their own mother beside them.
For the women longing for children.
For the women carrying complicated relationships.
For the women smiling publicly while hurting privately.

You are not forgotten today.

And Mom… thank you.

For the lunches.
For the listening.
For the way you showed up again and again.
For teaching me that love often looks ordinary while you’re living it.

I didn’t know then how deeply those moments would matter later.

But I know now.

And I carry them with me everywhere.

I also share a moment with my mom in the temple on my most recent podcast you can listen here