In honor of Mother’s Day,
I bring you a simple sketch.
Black. White.
No color. No flash.
Just truth.

A mother sits—Still.
Holding her child close.
Not in a grand moment, but in the quiet ones you almost miss.

Toys scattered.
Books half-read.
Love left lying around, like confetti from a quiet celebration.

Their faces?
Blank.
Not forgotten—intentional.
And this could be you.

Maybe…
it is you.

The one who wakes up.
When no one else does.
Who pours love into lunch boxes?
and bandages for scraped knees.
With a kiss and a prayer.

The one with a full heart
and tired hands.
The one who keeps giving
despite your cup running dry.

Or maybe—
This picture feels like a lie today.

Maybe it’s not toys scattered on the floor—
But pieces of you that feel out of place.
The silence around you? It doesn’t feel peaceful today—
It presses in, thick and heavy.
And right now, more than anything,
You’re just trying to hold on.

And listen—
that’s okay.

Even heroes need to rest.
Be encouraged by the article:
Permission to Rest: A Love Letter to the Overwhelmed.

Because this?
This is not a portrait of perfection.
It’s a tribute to presence.

To the 2 a.m. feedings.

When you’d rather crawl back under the covers
and disappear.
The tears you never let fall.
To the strength it takes to show up.

This Could Be You — We See You, Mom

To the whispering “I’m okay”
when you’re not.
To the tiny moments—
the ones the world doesn’t see—
that quietly shape
a lifetime.

So if you see yourself in this picture—
not in the lines,
but in the meaning—
know this:

You are seen—truly seen.
Just as you are.
And above all, you are loved deeply, endlessly, without measure.

This is for you—
The strong.
The soft.
The steady.
The struggling.
The everything-all-at-once kind of woman
the world calls “Mom.”

You are not alone.
You are making a difference.
And this?
This Mother’s Day?

We honor you.