Punch Me

Not literally.


Because I get it alot.


A punching bag.

I seem to garner the offense of the children.

Regularly, maybe because I’m safe?

I’ll never reject them?

While I’m happy to be their safe person, I detest conflict.

I hate being their punching bag.

I’d rather see marshmallows and rainbows.

Why, God, are mothers treated so?

Why, when we try our hardest to build little respectful humans do our children respond with anger?

It’s our role.

Our mission.

From You, no less.

Mothers are thankless soldiers in the trenches of life.

We know what people need, we see what needs to be done, and we strive to seek the best possible outcome with our families.

Our lives are living testimonies to what God does for us.

God sacrificed His only son for the salvation of the world.

Mothers sacrifice themselves for the sake of their children.

We are hardly thanked for what we do.

We are hardly noticed for what we do.

But we are a constant.


Always there with a listening ear.

Always there with a hug and a snack.

Always ready with a hug.

We love and we pray.

We serve mostly in the background, making sure bread is in the pantry for lunches.

But there is One who knows.


He sees it all.

He sees all of our tears as we pray for our children’s souls.

He sees all our cooking as the bodies are nourished.

He sees all our cleaning as our homes are tidied.

He sees.

He notices.

And He approves.

God, who created ALL things, notices your every act of love.

And He says, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Oh, and Happy Mother’s Day 🙂

Photos by Arisa Chattasa, Simon Rae, & Tracey Hocking on Unsplash

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