Still Their Mama - Day 1

Still Their Mama

Still Their Mama – Day 1

God Saw Her First

“You are the God who sees me.”

— Genesis 16:13

Devotional:

You didn’t stop being their mama when the calls stopped.

You didn’t lose your title when the hugs got shorter, the visits disappeared, or their silence stretched across years like a canyon.

You are still their mama.

Even if they’re estranged.

Even if it’s your fault.

Even if it’s not.

Even if addiction, bitterness, pride, or pain sits in the space between your hearts.

You are still their mama — because God saw you first.

Long before they turned away, God turned toward you.

He saw your arms reach for them as babies…

He sees them now, empty.

He saw your womb carry them.

He sees your soul still doing it.

And if you’ve carried guilt like a second skin, God whispers:

“I never told you to wear that.”

There is no expiration date on motherhood.

Not in heaven. Not in the Spirit. Not in this holy ache.

You don’t have to be perfect.

You don’t have to fix it all.

You don’t even have to know what to pray.

You just have to show up with your broken heart and say,

“God, I still love them.”

And He’ll answer:

“So do I.”

Prayer:

God, I’ve tried to carry this alone.

The ache, the silence, the guilt, the questions…

They press against my chest at night and make it hard to breathe.

But You are the God who sees.

You saw me become a mama,

And you haven’t looked away since.

Help me lay down what I can’t fix.

Hold what I can’t reach.

And love them — even from afar — through me.

Because no matter where they are…

I’m still their mama.

And you’re still my God.

Amen.

You are still their mama, and God is still holding both of you.

Carry this truth with you today:

Love endures, God protects, and restoration is never beyond His reach.

Still Their Mama - Day 2

Still Their Mama - The Guilt Was Never Yours to Carry

Still Their Mama - Day 2

The Guilt Was Never Yours to Carry

“For He knows how we are formed, He remembers that we are dust.”

— Psalm 103:14 (NIV)

Devotional:

You’ve replayed the mistakes a thousand times in your head.

The things you didn’t say.

The things you said too harshly.

The moments you missed.

The pain you may have caused; even unintentionally.

You wonder if you’re the reason they stopped calling.

If you failed as a mother.

But here’s the truth:

Guilt makes a terrible mirror.

It only reflects your regrets; never your love.

Never your sacrifice. Never your prayers at 3:00 a.m.

Never the meals you scraped together, the tears you cried in silence, or the days you kept going when your heart was breaking.

God never asked you to be perfect.

He asked you to be present.

And even if they don’t see it right now…

He did. He does. He always will.

You were never supposed to carry all of it.

Not the whole burden. Not the broken pieces.

Not their choices or silence or blame.

“He knows how we are formed…”

He knows you tried.

He knows you broke in the trying.

And He is not holding your mistakes against you…

So why are you?

It’s time to let it go.

Not because it doesn’t matter, but because you matter more.

To Him. To heaven. To the ones who may not know how to love you yet, but still carry your voice in their bones.

Prayer:

God, I keep carrying guilt like a badge;

like it proves I loved enough, or failed too much.

But You didn’t call me to carry shame.

You called me to be Yours.

And even if I messed up, You remember that I’m dust.

You see my tears. You held my babies when I couldn’t.

So today… I lay it down.

The guilt. The “what ifs.” The shame. The fear.

I can’t change the past. But I trust You to redeem it.

Because I’m still their mama.

And You’re still my God.

Amen.

You are still their mama, and God is still holding both of you.

Carry this truth with you today:

Love endures, God protects, and restoration is never beyond His reach.

Still Their Mama - Day 3

Still Their Mama - Day 3

Maybe I Wasn’t Enough

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

— Psalm 34:18 (NIV)

Devotional Text:

Beautiful, there are wounds so deep, not even time dares to touch them.

This is for the mama who carries the ache of maybe. The one who asks silently in the dark, “Did I love them enough? Fight enough? Stay enough?” The one who left, or stayed, or lost her grip when survival demanded more than she could give.

The guilt comes in like a wave; disguised as memory, as regret, as shame. You can see their face when they were little. The questions you couldn’t answer. The tantrums you didn’t understand. The tears you were too tired to notice. The teenager’s silence that mirrored your own pain.

And now, the whispers in your mind say: “Maybe I wasn’t enough.”

But beloved… you were never meant to be the Savior.

You were called to love, to lead, to learn. Not to fix the fractures you didn’t cause. Not to save them from battles they were born to face. Not to carry every cross for your child. Only One ever could.

And He still does.

What if we told our hearts: “I wasn’t perfect… but I was present. I wasn’t fearless… but I was faithful. I didn’t know everything… but I knew how to pray. And God fills in the gaps I never could.”

You were never meant to be enough on your own. You were meant to be held by the One who is.

So let those tears fall, mama. Let that scream into the pillow out. Let that question hit the heavens.

But don’t let the enemy make you wear a name tag that says “Not Enough.”

You are still their mama. You always were. You always will be. And that, beloved, is enough.

Prayer:

Lord, I lay down the things I didn’t get to teach.

I place every gap in your hands, and I trust you to fill it with grace.

Teach them what I couldn’t. Heal them where I failed.

Remind them… they were always loved.

And I am still their mama. Amen.

You are still their mama, and God is still holding both of you.

Carry this truth with you today:

Love endures, God protects, and restoration is never beyond His reach.

Still Their Mama - Day 4

Still Their Mama - You Didn’t Disappear

Still Their Mama - Day 4

You Didn’t Disappear

“See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.”

— Isaiah 49:16 (NIV)

Devotional:

You didn’t disappear.

Even if they unfollowed you.

Even if they stopped replying.

Even if you haven’t seen their face in years…

You are still written on the palms of the One who made you.

They may not speak your name,

but heaven still does.

When you held their tiny fingers.

When you cried into your pillow at night.

When you sat in courtrooms. Or stood at caskets. Or waited in hospital rooms alone…

You never stopped being a mother.

You didn’t lose your identity because they walked away…

and you didn’t lose your value because someone else didn’t see it.

God saw every moment.

And He still sees you now…

standing in the silence, holding space, carrying prayers like folded-up notes in the lining of your heart.

Your love wasn’t erased.

It was engraved.

Not in memory, but in eternity.

So when your name feels forgotten…

when Mother’s Day passes and no one calls…

when holidays come and go with no message, no knock, no apology…

Remember this: You are engraved in the hands that carried the cross.

And you don’t have to disappear to matter.

Prayer:

God, I feel invisible sometimes.

Like I don’t belong in their world anymore.

Like my love doesn’t count, because it’s not returned.

But You engraved me.

You never erased me.

You still call me Yours.

So I lay down my fear of being forgotten.

Hold my name when no one else says it.

Wrap Your hands around this aching heart.

Because I am still their mama.

And You are still my God.

Amen.

You are still their mama, and God is still holding both of you.

Carry this truth with you today:

Love endures, God protects, and restoration is never beyond His reach.

Still Their Mama - Day 5

Still Their Mama - I Didn’t Know How To Stay

Still Their Mama - Day 5

I Didn’t Know How To Stay

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

— Psalm 34:18 (NIV)

There are things I wish I could explain to the world…

but especially to the ones I love most.

Like why I stopped showing up.

Why I got quiet.

Why I didn’t call.

Why I disappeared when I should’ve stayed.

But here’s the truth:

I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you.

I left because I didn’t know how to survive while staying.

There are goodbyes no one ever sees…

Not the kind where you pack a bag and slam the door,

but the kind where your heart folds in on itself

and the ache becomes too big for words.

I stayed as long as I could.

Longer than anyone knew.

I swallowed hurt after hurt, hoping love could cover it all;

but there’s a point where hope starts to suffocate

and presence becomes self-betrayal.

And so, I left.

Maybe not physically. Maybe just emotionally.

But I broke inside, in a way that made staying feel like dying.

And still…

Not a day goes by where I don’t look for you in everything.

Not a night passes where I don’t pray your name into heaven.

Not a single breath escapes without a whisper:

“God, please cover what I couldn’t fix.”

I didn’t know how to stay.

But I never stopped loving.

And somehow, even in the wreckage…

I’m still your mama. And God never stopped seeing me.

Prayer:

God, help me hold space for the parts of me that had to let go in order to survive. Rewrite the story I’ve told myself about that season; not with shame, but with mercy. Remind me that You stayed even when I couldn’t.

Amen.

You are still their mama, and God is still holding both of you.

Carry this truth with you today:

Love endures, God protects, and restoration is never beyond His reach.

Still Their Mama - Day 6

Still Their Mama - You Were Never The Monster

Still Their Mama - Day 6

You Were Never The Monster

“No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against you in judgment You shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord.”

—Isaiah 54:17 (NIV)

There are days the shame creeps in quietly…

not with screaming accusations, but with soft, cruel whispers:

“You’re the reason they’re broken.”

“You weren’t nurturing enough.”

“You failed them when they needed you most.”

And sometimes you believe it.

Because you remember the yelling.

You remember the slamming of doors.

You remember the moments you were too tired, too angry, too human.

But I want to say something that might break something open:

You were never the monster.

You were hurting.

You were grieving.

You were trying to love through wounds no one helped you heal.

You didn’t destroy your family…

you survived it.

You broke generational chains no one else was brave enough to touch.

You held your kids through the storm, even when your own foundation was flooding.

You stayed in rooms no one else would enter.

You prayed when you were empty.

You rose when your soul still limped.

Yes, you got it wrong sometimes.

Yes, your brokenness bled into the spaces you tried to protect.

But you never stopped loving…

even when it looked like walking away, breaking the cycle, or going silent to stay sane.

They may not understand that yet.

But one day, they will.

And when they do,

they’ll see you weren’t the monster.

You were the one who fought it, every day, so they wouldn’t have to.

Prayer:

Father, I come before You carrying the weight of choices I never wanted to make. I grieve what was lost and mourn what never came to be. But You, Lord, see my heart. You know the depths of my sorrow, my strength, and my love. Remind me that I am not a villain in this story; I am a child of Yours, wrapped in Your mercy and covered by Your grace. Teach me to receive Your compassion without reservation. Help me heal in ways I never imagined, knowing You are the Author of redemption.

In Jesus’ name.

Amen.

You are still their mama, and God is still holding both of you.

Carry this truth with you today:

Love endures, God protects, and restoration is never beyond His reach.

Still Their Mama - Day 7

Still Their Mama - The Things I Didn’t Get To Teach You

Still Their Mama - Day 7

The Things I Didn’t Get To Teach You

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

— Romans 8:1 (NIV)

I didn’t get to teach you how to drive a stick shift without burning the clutch…

I didn’t get to teach you how to keep your hands steady when life made you tremble.

I didn’t get to show you how to shave your face, or prepare for a job interview, or how to hold your heart when it shatters and you’re still expected to show up for work.

I didn’t get to teach you how to cry, or that it was okay to do so.

There were too many days I was trying to hold the whole world together with nothing but prayer, duct tape, and a smile that fooled almost everyone… even you.

I didn’t get to teach you about budgets, boundaries, or brokenness.

And by the time I had learned about them, I had already taught you survival.

So softness looked like weakness.

And rest looked like laziness.

And joy felt like a trick we couldn’t trust.

I didn’t get to teach you how to let someone love you without suspicion.

I didn’t get to teach you how to feel safe when everything in you is screaming.

I didn’t get to teach you what to do with anger, the kind that builds up and breaks out; the kind that destroys your body before your fists ever reach a wall.

I didn’t get to teach you how to stop the cycle…

because I was still caught in the storm.

And every time I thought I had caught the light,

the shadows pulled you under anyway.

But…

I taught you how to fight for your life.

I taught you how to listen when God whispers in your wilderness.

I taught you what it means to rise again,

even when everyone around you says your story is over.

I taught you that prayer can be both loud and wordless;

and that God speaks both languages.

I taught you that you can be both wounded and worthy.

I taught you how to find joy when it costs everything.

And how to love people who weren’t ready to love you back.

No, I didn’t get to teach you how to tie your shoes and cross the street…

But I did teach you how to walk through hell barefoot,

and still come out holding hope in your hand.

And I’ll keep teaching you, with every breath I have left.

Because I’m still your mama.

And I always will be.

Prayer:

Jesus, You see every place in this mama’s heart where regret still aches and guilt still whispers.

You know the moment she wishes she could rewrite, the words she would take back, the choices she would change if she could.

But You also speak a truth stronger than her memory:

There is no condemnation for her in You. None.

Not for the past she can’t undo.

Not for the seasons she barely survived.

Not for the ways she fell short while trying to hold everything together.

So today, Lord, silence the guilt that is not from You.

Lift the shame that never belonged to her.

Let Your mercy wash over every place that still stings when she thinks about her child.

Remind her that she is forgiven.

Remind her that she is covered.

Remind her that she is Yours; fully, freely, forever.

And as she walks forward, wrap her in the freedom You purchased,

steady her with the grace You promise,

and let her breathe again without fear.

Because in You, Jesus,

condemnation has no home

and shame has no voice.

Amen.

You are still their mama, and God is still holding both of you.

Carry this truth with you today:

Love endures, God protects, and restoration is never beyond His reach.

Still Their Mama - Day 8

Still Their Mama - When She Remembered Who She Was & Released What She Couldn’t Hold

Still Their Mama - Day 8

When She Remembered Who She Was

(and Released What She Couldn’t Hold)

“The Lord will fight for you; you need only be still.”

— Exodus 14:14 (NIV)

There comes a moment: quiet, unexpected, holy, when a mother who has carried grief for far too long realizes that the grief never defined her.

The silence didn’t erase her.

The distance didn’t diminish her.

The unanswered calls, the empty holidays, the aching birthdays… none of those took her motherhood from her.

She was still their mama.

And she still is.

But pain has a way of making us forget.

Shame has a way of whispering lies until we believe them.

Loss has a way of rewriting our worth in letters we never meant to read.

And yet, in the stillness, something shifts…

Not because the child called.

Not because the story resolved.

Not because everything suddenly made sense.

But because God reminded her.

He reminded her that her identity was never built on who stayed, who left, who apologized, or who didn’t understand.

Her motherhood wasn’t validated by proximity or performance.

Her value was never measured by someone else’s brokenness.

And in that moment, she remembered who she was;

not the wounded one,

not the abandoned one,

not the silenced one,

but the beloved one.

A daughter first.

A mother second.

A woman fully held by God.

And from that place of remembering, something else happened:

She released what she couldn’t hold anymore.

Not her child; because love doesn’t release love.

But she released:

• the guilt

• the self-blame

• the “what ifs”

• the parts she was never meant to carry

• the responsibility for choices that were not hers

• the shame that was never hers to wear

• the pressure to hold together something she didn’t break

Releasing isn’t giving up.

Releasing is trusting God with what only God can redeem.

And standing there, between remembering and releasing, something inside her finally breathed again.

Not because the story ended…

but because hers didn’t.

Identity Declaration:

I am still their mother.

I am still God’s daughter.

My worth is not lost, my love is not wasted, and my story is not over.

I can release what isn’t mine and keep what is:

love, dignity, identity, and hope.

Final Benediction:

May God restore to you the identity life tried to dim…

and give you the peace that comes from releasing what your soul can no longer carry.

May you walk forward lighter, truer, steadier…

remembering exactly who you are in His eyes.

Closing Prayer:

Father,

Help me remember who I am in You; not defined by distance or silence, but upheld by Your love.

Give me the courage to release what was never mine to carry, and the peace to trust You with what I cannot fix.

Hold my child wherever they are, and hold my heart as I rest in Your strength.

Remind me daily that I am still their mama… and still Your daughter.

Amen.

You are still their mama, and God is still holding both of you.

Carry this truth with you today:

Love endures, God protects, and restoration is never beyond His reach.