There is a strength in mothers that this world cannot measure.
Long before children learn to speak, mothers are already speaking prayers over them. Before they take their first step, she’s already walked miles in service for them. In Samoa, a mother’s strength is not loud. But it moves everything. It holds families together. It bends to the weight of sacrifice without breaking.
And somehow, it still smiles.
This Mother’s Day we honour every woman who has carried more than a child. Those who carried hope, held silence, bore pain, and still gave love.
The Quiet Ones
There are mothers who cry quietly in the middle of the night. Not because they are weak, but because they cannot fall apart. Not yet. Not when the children are watching. Not when the house is filled with fear instead of love.
Some are living under the same roof as the man who once promised to protect them. Yet now he harms them. Some are bleeding and hiding it. Wiping their face before the children wake. Some are married, but feel completely alone.
We remember them today.
We remember the woman who covers her bruises with long sleeves on Sunday. The one who still prepares his plate while shaking inside. The one who is told she is nothing. And yet still whispers prayers for her children at night.
And we remember the child who saw it all.
The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit (Psalm 34:18)
May the God of justice rise for them. May the Lord of peace wrap around them. May the Spirit of Christ give them courage. And may we never again keep silent when they are suffering.
The Ones Who Mother in Many Ways
Some mothers never carried a child in the womb. But they carried children in their hearts. They were the aunties, sisters, cousins, teachers, stepmothers, foster carers and church sisters who showed up when they didn’t have to. Who stayed when others walked away.
All her household are clothed with scarlet.
She openeth her mouth with wisdom and in her tongue is the law of kindness (Proverbs 31:21, 26).
You are a mother too. Heaven counts what the world overlooks.
The Mothers We’ve Lost
There are those who cannot call home today. Because the phone would ring into silence. Your mother is no longer here. The ache sits like a stone in your chest.
To you we say this. You are still your mother’s child. She is part of you. In your laugh. In the way you fold laundry. In the way you care more than you let on. In the way you forgive too easily.
Light a candle. Say a prayer. Speak her name.
And if she didn’t love you the way you needed. May you still find healing. May you be the mother you never had. May the chain break with you.
The Ones Still With Us
If your mother is still here, don’t wait. Don’t wait for a perfect moment. Don’t wait to feel less busy. Tell her thank you. Tell her now. Sit with her. Put the phone down. Listen.
She may never say it, but she remembers everything. Your favourite dish. Your childhood illness. The night you came home crying. The school fee she paid by going without. Even now, she prays for you.
Even if her hands are weak, she’s still lifting you.
And To Every Mother Today
You are not forgotten. You are not unseen.
You may not hear thank you enough. You may feel worn down, invisible, dismissed, exhausted. But your value is not measured in applause. It is measured in eternity.
Jesus Christ, who was raised by a mortal mother, understood the eternal weight women carry. On the cross, bleeding and dying, He saw His mother. And even in His final breath, He made sure she was cared for.
Woman, behold thy son. Behold thy mother (John 19:26–27)
That is how deeply He honours women. And so must we.
Today is not enough to repay you. But it is something. It is a beginning.
Thank you. For your hands. Your tears. Your faith. Your quiet strength. And the way you kept going when no one was clapping.
Because in Samoa, we don’t just come from our mothers.
We are still being carried by them.
