To The Mom With Chronic Illness

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I see you.

Wincing a little every time you put on your public brave face. The measured steps. The dark circles. The swollen hands that so lovingly hold the little ones that need you.

I know you.

What you give every day. When you hurt. When it’s hard. When the world would say that the day you had was not much. I know it was the best you had to give.

I hear you.

When you say your heart is begging for simple and normal and easy. When you share that a new health complication in your journey feels like a loss. When you quietly whisper that you are grieving over the you that used to be.

I get you.

Why you have that handicapped decal and why you wish you didn’t. Why you have to say no to the park today and why it hurts your heart. Why the kids are watching movies for the fifth day in a row and why you sit there wishing you could be so much more.

But mama?

Jesus sees you.  Jesus knows you. Jesus hears you.

Jesus gets you.

He sees your widow’s mite. He knows your grief. He hears your cries. And He absolutely adores you for who He made you to be.

Yes, sometimes things will get a little hairy…

You’ll burst into tears the first time your physical therapist tells you that you can’t hold your baby. You’ll feel like you want to barf when you have to tell your bigs the warning signs of a stroke. And you’ll wonder if your friends realized when they signed up to be your bestie that you are the freaking poster child for the phrase, “It takes a village.”

But even when a day ends having seen tears and messiness and all out disaster, remember that all your baby really needs is you.

So rock on, little mamas.

Rock your canes. Rock your meds. Rock your not-so-fluid dance moves.

Rock. It. All.

And know this too…

You are never, ever rocking alone.

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