Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. The world is in the midst of a world-wide pandemic. This will be the first Mother’s Day that I can not hug my mom.

Papa and grandma became snowbirds this winter. The plan was for them to be back by now, but there is a world-wide pandemic. It is not safe for them to travel. So for the first time ever, I won’t be able to give my mama a hug on Mother’s Day.

Tomorrow, I will miss hugging my grandmother again. I imagine that she celebrated her 100th birthday in the presence of our Savior surrounded by her great love, her parents, friends and family. I imagine bagpipers played the birthday anthem and she enjoyed buttery shortbread and tea in little fancy teacups.

Tomorrow, I will get a mama hug. I love your mama hugs.

Eleven years ago, dad and I were newlyweds. Children were off the table. I would have described my life as nearly perfect.

Ten years ago, I received my first Mother’s Day gift – I put it in a drawer and didn’t take it out until we moved last year. At the time, I remember being afraid. Afraid that you wouldn’t survive until your birth – Afraid that you would survive and endure a life of suffering – Afraid I wouldn’t be a good mom – Afraid that I could never find the confidence to step into the role my mother and grandmother exemplified so effortlessly.

Looking back, I know now that fear is a liar. God provided me everything I needed and more. I worried needlessly. He provided exactly what I needed when I needed it – not a second earlier or later.