(A Mother’s Day Reflection on Healing, Regret, and Redemption)

I hate her.
I hate the version of me that stayed too long.
The one that thought love looked like silence.
The one that confused submission with surrendering her dignity.
The one who wore a smile to cover her soul’s scream.
But I also love her.
I love her because she’s still here, fighting for healing, learning to forgive herself, and choosing God even when it doesn’t make sense. This Mother’s Day, I didn’t reflect in sorrow. I reflected in triumph. Because I’m not who I used to be, and by the grace of God, neither are my children.
For a long time, I hated the girl who stayed when she should’ve run.
I hated her for what she allowed her children to endure.
I hated her for being so bewitched by love that she missed all the signs, and I hated how many people clapped for us. I mean, him because of his charisma.
But let me say this loud and clear:
Just because something looks good doesn’t mean it isn’t poisonous. Just because a woman appears strong, graceful, and composed doesn’t mean she’s not drowning.
Body of Christ, we must stop judging books by their covers.
If the church had discerned the inside of my life, not just the shine I polished for Sundays, maybe we wouldn’t have missed the abuse.
Maybe someone would’ve seen the manipulation.
The narcissism.
The spiritual witchcraft.
The unrepentant sin that was covered in charismatic charm. Who am I fooling? Many did but said nothing because of their own selfish gain.
Please, establish real discernment.
Not just the kind that detects demons in others, but the kind that detects demons in yourself, pauses, prays, listens, and sees beyond appearance. Let the Church return to holiness, sensitivity, accountability, and compassion.
People are dying silently under leaders you have made a little higher than God.
~WHOA BE UNTO!!!

As parents, we have no clue how damaging our parenting can be, even when we try to do our best. All my children’s lives, I tried to do my best. The outside looks at me and praises how great of a mom I am, but the inner me always wishes I could do better.
I wasn’t a great mom when I couldn’t protect my kids from being ripped out of my arms, driven up and down the road at all hours of the night, not having the faintest idea where they were, all for the sake of using their talents behind your foolishness like it was some kind of “family thing.”
I couldn’t protect them when they watched me be kicked out, sleeping in my car, and still showing up to every outreach endeavour, all because of the ultimatum I had given:
“Your person goes or I go.”
Foolish of me to believe he would choose me. I even begged the family to come and remove them from my (their) home. Only to be prohibited from ever speaking with them again as we churched as usual together. (messages which I still have)
I couldn’t protect them when they wrote me letters (which I still have) asking,
“When is ‘his person’ going to go away so I can come home?”
I couldn’t protect them from the wolves in sheep’s clothing who smiled into their innocent faces and had the audacity to prophecy over them. The unbalanced, unsubmitted life stole my babies’ innocence. It’s a shame I didn’t have a choice, or that when I used my voice, I became the witch, demon, Jezebel, nasty, or ungrateful. I HATE HER!!!
I couldn’t protect them from seeing what they saw, things that were supposed to remain their little secret.
I couldn’t protect them from the disgrace and embarrassment they still carry to this day. The world didn’t ruin my babies…it was my responsibility, I am the church. Oh Lord, have mercy!!!!
I couldn’t protect them when they were fighting for their father’s attention, just wanting to be his favorite.
I cried like a baby many years ago when my children were lost in confusion, not understanding why he loved “his person” more than them. I hate her for not protecting them.
I hate that she was so weak, damaged, under a curse, bewitched by love, knowing deep down it was the greatest disappointment of her life. BUT GOD…
But even in the hate, I love her. I love the woman who tried to prove Biblical love, marriage, family, and friendship.
I love the woman who stayed in God’s presence.
I love that she’s been delivered from manipulation and idolatry.
I love that she learned to depend on God when man failed her.
I love that even though her children saw her break, they are now witnessing her rise.
I love her because she kept showing up, even when every voice told her she wasn’t enough.
I love her because she fought and is fighting hell for her babies.
And now, even when they struggle to believe in the God who didn’t answer their prayers, she finally believes enough for all of them.

Parents, listen.
Sometimes, even when you give your best, the outcome still looks broken.
Sometimes, your children will question the God you love, because He didn’t protect them the way they prayed He would.
They prayed for the arguments to stop.
They prayed for “his person” to go.
They prayed to feel like a family.
And when nothing changed, they wondered if God was even real.
But even when your kids don’t understand, keep standing.
Even when you feel like you failed, keep loving.
Even when you’re rebuilding from ruins, keep believing.
Because God is not done yet.

This Mother’s Day, I didn’t sit in guilt.
I stood in grace.
I cried, yes, but with gratitude.
Because I’m finally FREE.
Because God didn’t let my brokenness be the end of our story.
“God made my life complete when I placed all the pieces before Him.” Psalm 18:20 MSG

Let Us Pray…
I lift up every woman who feels unseen, whose story has been judged by its cover.
I pray for the mothers trying to raise children who no longer believe in prayer.
For the women who look strong but are quietly breaking.
Restore their strength.
Restore their voice.
Restore their families.
Raise up leaders in the Body of Christ who discern truth, not just performance.
Let holiness be our standard again.
Let compassion and Spirit-led wisdom guide how we serve, support, and cover the broken.
And for every mother who feels she failed, remind her that You are the Redeemer.
You see.
You know.
You’re not done.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

💜 You are not the worst thing that happened to your children.
💜 You are not disqualified because you stayed too long.
💜 You are not broken beyond repair.

📖 Blog: Strength of a Woman Blog
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