Indiana Disciples

On this Mother's Day, we pause to give thanks — not just for one kind of love, but for all the forms it takes.

We celebrate the mothers who carried us, who stayed up late and prayed over us, whose hands still feel like home. And we celebrate those who never gave birth but gave life — the aunties who showed up when it mattered most, the grandmothers who held generations together, the godmothers and mentors who spoke our names into purpose.

We see the foster mothers, the adoptive mothers, the chosen family who became family not by blood but by covenant. We honor those who mother entire congregations — the Sunday school teachers, the women of the church who wrapped their arms around every child as if they were their own. We hold tenderly those who longed to be mothers and carry that love quietly. And we remember those whose mothers are no longer with us — grief and gratitude often walk hand in hand.

Motherhood, at its truest, is not defined by biology alone. It is defined by presence. By sacrifice. By the kind of love that doesn't quit.

To every person who has ever loved someone into becoming who they are — we see you. We honor you. We are grateful for you.

May God, who is described throughout Scripture as one who comforts us "as a mother comforts her child" (Isaiah 66:13), surround you on this Mother's Day with that same tenderness — and may you know how deeply, how fiercely you are loved.