I see you show up to church on (most) Sundays knowing that you will be sitting alone. Alone because for one reason or the other, he chooses to stay behind. I’m sure you pray for the day you walk-in together.
I know the thought of that brings tears to your eyes.
I want you to know that I see you.
I think you are incredibly beautiful and gracious as you sit there, alone. It is quite beautiful actually. Sometimes, I want to just walk up and hug you then tell you that I admire your strength.
Would that be too weird? Would that offend you? Maybe I’ll just shyly smile next time you happen to look up.
Your stoic yet timid facial expression leaves me to wonder if you’ve grown comfortable sitting alone. In the same row. In the same pew. Unless you are really late, then you are forced to sit in the back.
I see you during worship as you find it almost impossible not to glance around. I can’t help but wonder if you secretly admire the couples around you.
Does it make you smile or does it make you sad?
Does it give you hope that one Sunday he will be sitting there beside you? Even if he doesn’t sing, even if he chooses to wear that shirt you can’t stand, even if he wants to sit in the very back row—I’m sure you would simply be grateful he was there.
Honestly, none of that matters because you still show up. You may miss a Sunday or maybe two, but never three in a row. It may sound silly to even mention that, but I know you’ll understand.
I also see the kids.
I see you rushing up to children’s hall with them in tow. Some days they seem excited to be there. Others days I see you giving them that piercing mommy glare. Your lips tighten as if holding back the words we should not say as the little one screams for his mommy.
It is likely that you dressed them, fed them breakfast and rushed them out the door along with their grumblings. Still, you managed to get everyone out the door in one messy piece.
I know there are moments when you get in the car completely frazzled and irritated, questioning why you even try.
Staying home would be the easier choice. I see that.
Then there are those Sundays where you feel grateful for the courage it takes to go alone.
While you live out your faith. Yes, it may be late and messy some days, but you still show up. I see that too.
So this I say to to the mom who sits alone on Sundays . . .
I see you.
I am you.
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