The Weight of a Mother's Sorrow

Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down. Isaiah 53:4 NLT

My two sons and I were abandoned by their father when the boys were just two and a half and five. The most painful thing I have ever had to do was to tell my sons that their father wasn’t coming home. They had asked where he was for a few days before I could bring myself to tell them. The oldest one’s reply pierced my heart like the building brick that had pierced my foot the week before. The recollection still produces that same sting today. “Why?” he asked me, as I saw confusion cross his innocent face, “We had so much fun together.” It wasn’t long after that that my oldest son began to stutter.

I wanted to fix it, but I felt helpless as I listened to my son’s after-school stories about how he was teased when the teacher called on him in class and he could not answer. I carried my son’s sorrow in my chest as I toted him back and forth to speech therapy. Watching him struggle to force every syllable out of his mouth literally broke my heart. How I wished this had happened to me and not to him. That’s when I heard an old proverb that became my anthem: A mother is only as happy as her saddest child.

It’s hard to describe the invisible, divine rescue that stepped into my seemingly helpless sorrow. My son’s stutter didn’t go away, and their father didn’t come back, but I felt Jesus’ presence giving me a peace that didn’t make sense at the time. He reminded me that He loved my son more than I do and that my son was safe in His hands. It was like He was saying, “I’ve got him, and I’ve got you.”

Just like a parent, Jesus naturally absorbed my pain. With His perfect love, He took the weight I was trying desperately to carry on my own into His own being. He gave me His strength when I had run out of my own. He held my heart together so I could hold my son. He didn’t look at my son and me from across the room in our suffering. He sat with us in the waiting room. When we were abandoned, He stayed.

My sons are grown up now, and my oldest has learned to manage his stuttering. He is a developer and a teacher. He develops training programs for the company he works for, and he teaches those programs to audiences! My anthem was not one of permanent sadness. It became a declaration of how I was rescued that I can share with others. A mother is only as happy as her saddest child. It’s true, but Jesus stepped into that sadness so my son and I could step into His joy. What a wonderful God we serve!  

Prayer: Abba Father, thank you for carrying my heaviest sorrows so I don’t have to.

This article is brought to you by the Advanced Writers and Speakers Association (AWSA).

About the Author: Leslie became a Christian at the age of eight, kneeling alongside her mother. When she was twelve, she was baptized at a local Baptist church. With a tender heart for people, Leslie has served as an online mentor for Focus on the Family. She is the author of three books and a writer for Upper Room Magazine. Leslie serves in the women’s ministry at Calvary Chapel, Modesto, California, as both a leader and a liaison. Leslie is the blessed mom of two adult sons and grandma to her first grandson. She teaches Decluttering Your Home and Heart at Christian women’s conferences and retreats. She has also enjoyed teaching at the Bay Area Sunday School (BASS) Convention. Leslie has a YouTube Channel called FaithFashionAndFun, and she also shares on Substack and Instagram. You can find her at http://joyfull.blog.

Join the Conversation: What sorrows do you need to allow the Lord to carry for you today?