I didn’t plan on writing anything about Mother’s Day. But after we came home from church, I felt a gentle tug on my heart—one that quietly said, “Share this.”

At church this morning, I watched mothers being celebrated. They stood with their families, dressed beautifully, smiling for pictures that would become sweet memories. I sat there watching from a distance—smiling with them but also feeling something stir inside me. My thoughts drifted to my own Mother’s Day experience.

Since moving to America, this day hasn’t been the same. I don’t really celebrate it. My mom is still in my home country in Asia, and I haven’t seen her in years. We talk through Facebook Messenger, and I’m so grateful for that—but nothing compares to being near her, to feeling her hugs, or hearing her voice in person.

I remember the day I left for the States so clearly. At the airport, my mom, my brother, and my grandma were there. I hugged them so tightly before walking away. I told them, “I’ll be back.” I can still feel the tears running down my cheeks as I boarded the plane. It was the first time I was leaving everything familiar—leaving the people who raised me—for a dream I knew I had to chase.

Growing up, I was often sick. And every time, my mom was right there—by my side at every doctor’s appointment, during every hospital stay, and through every recovery. Her love was constant, quiet, and strong. Even now, when I get sick, a part of me wishes she could still be here to take care of me. On days like this, those childhood memories feel even closer.

I’m so deeply grateful to my parents—for their love, for their sacrifices, and for believing in me even when I didn’t fully believe in myself. They gave me the courage to step into the unknown, to pursue a better life.

And then there’s my second mom—my mother-in-law. I met her for the first time when my husband (then boyfriend) brought me home to Indiana for Christmas. I liked her instantly. She was warm, kind, and made me feel like I belonged. We connected easily—maybe because we’re both immigrants, or maybe because we both love the same man. I’m thankful I have no difficult stories to tell about her. Long before I met her, I prayed for her. I didn’t know who she would be, but I asked God to bless our future relationship. And He did.

Mother’s Day can bring up so many different emotions. For some, it’s a joyful day filled with hugs and celebration. For others, it’s tender and painful. Maybe you’re a new mom. Maybe you’ve been one for years. Maybe you’re missing a child, or still waiting and praying for one.

Wherever you are in your journey—I see you. Your story matters. Your heart matters.

And today, we honor all the moms—those who gave birth, those who raised, those who lost, those who love, and those who are still waiting.

Happy Mother’s Day. You are deeply loved.

Me and my mom 🙂