Held in Love

 

"As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem.”

—Isaiah 66:13

Mother’s Day can be complicated.

For many LGBTQ+ Christians, this day stirs a mixture of gratitude, grief, and longing. Some of us have mothers who love us fiercely, who fought for us when others turned away. Others have strained relationships marked by silence, theological disagreements, or painful rejection. Some have lost their mothers altogether, or never had one who nurtured them in the way they needed. And still others have found “mothering” in chosen family—those who stepped into the role when our biological mothers could not.

I grew up with a mother who, in many ways, was my safe place. She sang to me—silly songs, made-up lullabies, and always “You Are My Sunshine.” That song still lingers in my memory like a benediction. Even now, when I feel anxious or overwhelmed, I can hear her voice in my mind and feel something loosen inside. She wasn’t perfect (who is?), and our relationship changed after I came out. Her love didn’t vanish, but it retreated into more cautious, guarded corners. I learned to read between the lines—to hear love in what wasn’t said as much as in what was.

There are days I wish she could fully see me, not just the parts she’s comfortable with. But I know this: most of the time, she tries, and in her way, she still sings over me. Her growing dementia has mellowed her about my sexuality, and possibly her views on the LGBTQ+ community, at least she no longer mentions me being gay even on the periphery anymore when we talk on the phone or when I go home for the holidays.

And in the spaces where that love feels fragile or incomplete, I lean on the divine promise of God’s motherhood. Isaiah 66:13 tells us, “As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you.” God doesn’t just replace what we lack in human relationships—God transcends it. God’s love is not hindered by shame or ignorance, nor is it conditional on who we love or how we live. God's comfort is whole, unwavering, and tender. It wraps around us like a lullaby that never fades.

For those who feel unmothered today—rejected, estranged, or just alone—please know: you are not forgotten. You are not forsaken. You are loved, by a God who mothers us all. In Scripture, we are told:

“Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me.” —Psalm 27:10

And for those whose mothers still try—who show up imperfectly but continue to offer what love they can—I honor your resilience, your patience, your hope.

Today, let us give thanks for all who have mothered us: the women who raised us, the aunts and teachers who guided us, the queer elders who nurtured us, the friends who held us through heartbreak, and the God who never stops whispering, “You are my beloved.” In Luke 13:34, Jesus says, “How often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing.”

Let us also remember that motherhood isn’t limited to biology. In God’s eyes, to nurture, to protect, to comfort—these are sacred acts. Many of us embody them, regardless of gender, title, or role. LGBTQ+ people have always created families and offered fierce, maternal love to one another. That, too, is holy. Let us always remember what 1 John 4:7 says, “Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.”

On this Mother’s Day, whether you are rejoicing, mourning, navigating silence, or embracing chosen family, know this:

You are held in love.

You are never alone.

And somewhere, still, the song continues: You are my sunshine.