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.