Today’s blog is featuring a guest writer Mandi Parkhurst. Mandi is the writer for the blog Simply Sweet Life. God has given her a message to share with us all today as it is becoming close to Mother’s Day.

I love days of remembrance, known also as The Holidays.  Easter and Christmas.  These are my favorites.  I love the reason behind why we celebrate.  I love the time to just focus and remember.

Since I have become a mother, I really like Mother’s Day too even thought it is mainly a Hallmark Holiday.

I love it that my kiddos and Daniel make it my special day.  They write me cards and do everything for me to say thank you for being their mom (well wife in Daniel’s case).  I love thinking about the days each of my four precious little guys were born.

Seeing Precious A for the first time in the hospital and crying when the doctor placed her in my arms.

Watching Daniel overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of Little Princess and her curly hair.

Nervously waiting to see if Little Brown Boy would be okay after he aspirated.

Celebrating with family and friends the arrival of Little Blond Boy.

I love on Mother’s Day celebrating being “Mom” to each of them and what they have brought to my life as their mom.

I am Mom.

Their mom.

It is one of my greatest joys.

This year, Mother’s Day is May 8th.

May 8th is without question the hardest day of the year for me.  The few weeks leading up to it are full of reminders I wish I could erase from my mind.

13 years ago, on May 8th 1998, I did the most unmotherly thing imaginable and chose to end the life of my unborn child.

I keep asking myself, how can I celebrate being a mother on THAT day?  How can I look at my children when they say, “You’re the best mom in the world!” and not weep?  How can I face both days in one?  The pain I always feel around this time of year is amplified when placed against the backdrop of the celebration of being Mom.  My joy in being Mom, has always been set against the backdrop of the pain of my abortion. Every ultrasound I had as an expectant mother was just the same, unimaginable joy at seeing my baby kick and spin at 10 weeks old, searing pain of knowing at about 10 weeks old my first child’s life was ended by my own choice.

My heart is as broken now as it was 12 years ago when I fell to my knees and sought forgiveness from the One I had sinned against.

God has been so gracious to me, for no reason other than He chose to be.  While I was still a sinner, Christ died for me.  He paid my debt.  He has taken what Satan meant for my ruin and used it to bring Him glory.  He blessed me with Himself and then with Precious A.  A few years later He brought Daniel, then Princess L, then Little Brown Boy, followed by Little Blond Boy.  (I would include Caspian, but he just came in with muddy feet so I am undecided as to whether he is a blessing right now or something else!)

I don’t deserve to be called, “Mom.”  But I am, everyday.

I don’t deserve to be called, “Daniel’s Wife.”  But I am everyday.

I don’t deserve to be called, “Beloved of the Most High.” But I am everyday.

In gratitude, I again fall to my knees as I remember what brought me to Christ in the first place, and celebrate all He has so richly poured out on me instead of what I deserved.

There is healing that I have found.  There is a crown of beauty instead of despair.  There is gladness instead of mourning.

And although there is pain, oh yes, heaps of pain, there is thankfulness and joy, not because of what I have done, but because of what He did!

Psalm 51 – All of it!!!!