Well, you wonder why I always choke up and cry
At the scene with Mary holding the baby sent to die,
And why do my tears seem to be more than usual ones?
‘Cause mothers were never meant to lose their daughters or sons.
I cry for the mothers in all the stories I read,
For the confused, fearful, ill-prepared ones like me.
I cry for the ones who’ve been given more than they can hold,
But are bearing it anyway, gripping; pretending to control.
I cry for the mothers who I love and know,
For the ones who are in places they didn’t want to go.
I cry for these sisters, holding it in ’til the day is done,
When they can cry in a pillow with the setting sun.
Some days, we manage to keep it all together
With happy kids and offering some answers.
But when the dam breaks and life sings a bitter song,
We’re reminded our plans don’t fit; our expectations all wrong.
I cry for mothers who’ve had to watch their babies die,
For the ones whose souls are wrung out and dry.
I cry for the mom whose kid is vulnerable and accused;
Who’s weary and beaten down; bullied and bruised.
And I cry for the thousands of mothers left stunned
When their babies were robbed, raped, or even gunned.
I cry for the millions more whose dreams shattered apart,
Leaving them with empty homes and worse, broken hearts.
Well, there are things that we just can’t fix, I know,
So mothers need mothers everywhere we go.
But one mother who suffered more than her due
Bore the King of Kings who will make all things new.
I’d love to hug Mary, who is every mother in so many ways:
Favor with God, but learning to nurse alone in the hay.
I’d cry with her, then share the good news she couldn’t tell.
Then we’d wipe away our tears and worship Emmanuel.
Inspired by Johnny Cash’s The Man in Black.