The Healing Power of Grace in Mother-Daughter Relationships

They stood in the driveway waving goodbye as we drove away. With a forced smile on my face, I waved back. As we rounded the corner, steamy tears burned down my cheeks.

“I’m never going back there as long as I live.”

Hubby reached over and squeezed my hand; his silent comfort was the balm for my tormented heart. It took days for me to mentally recover from the visit. Sleepless nights replayed conversations with my Mom. Daggers had been thrown into my heart and stuck.

I had shared exciting things happening in my life and received her unapproving, “Hmm.” But mostly, it was me living through days knowing that I would never measure up, that Mom would always be disappointed in me, that I was a failure in her eyes, and that I would never be good enough.

I needed to protect my own mental health. The relationship was not healthy. I never went back to their home in Wisconsin.

For years following, I made the mandatory phone calls for birthdays and holidays, but I didn’t attend any family celebrations. My siblings encouraged me to come, but I couldn’t muster up the courage to go. I feared the days of self-loathing I knew would follow a visit, so I stayed away.

One year, on Mother’s Day, Pastor gave a sermon on honoring your mother.

“And there are some of you out there thinking, my mom is not worth honoring.”

Yep. He’s talking to me. And then Pastor offered up a fitting Mother’s Day verse.

“Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.” (Philippians 2:3)

Count my mom as more significant than myself?

What would that look like?

I looked at my brood of four. I definitely count my children as more significant than myself, but they have done nothing to deserve this honor. My mother? She carried me in her womb, changed my diapers, found money in the budget for a brand-new piano and weekly lessons; chauffeured me to dance lessons and theater practice, my job at the bakery, and the drop-off at college. Despite the recent hurts, she had been a great mom, doing the best she could with what she had at the time.

“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:4)

What are my mother’s interests? I looked again at my kiddos, and I knew. She’s a mom. What’s more important, thought-consuming, and prayer-saturating to a mother than her children? I’m her interest. My mom had been loving me unconditionally, but for some reason, I hadn’t been able to receive her love.

The next family gathering was a surprise 50th anniversary party for Mom and Dad. My siblings pleaded, “You have to go!” I agreed. We planned our trip to Arizona, where they are spending their retirement years.

I prayed a lot leading up to the trip. I prayed for protection over my heart. I prayed that the words which poured forth from my mouth would be filled with love. I prayed for healing in our relationship. I prayed that I wouldn’t come home wounded.

The entire family was staying in a VRBO a few miles from Mom and Dad’s new house. Mom needed something from her house, and I offered to ride along with her. She gave me a tour of their new home, and while in the kitchen, I felt convicted to apologize for my role in our broken relationship. I didn’t spill out my many hurts. I had already erased the record of wrongs I had been keeping against her for so many years.

Instead, I took ownership of my part in our ever-widening chasm and apologized for rejecting her attempts to reach out to me. Thankful for the opportunity to heal, Mom accepted my apology, and we hugged.

On the drive back to Wisconsin, conversations from the weekend replayed in my head. She’s still my Mom. She still has her opinions regarding what’s best for me, and when she hears me talk and doesn’t agree, I still get the “Hmm,” which is better than an actual fight! As an adult, I may not always agree with her, but I deeply value her opinion, knowing it’s rooted in love. The thing I’ve come to realize is, I don’t need my mom’s approval; I need my Heavenly Father’s approval.

In the Biblical relational order of things, my mom will always deserve my honor. But it’s not just my mom deserving honor; everyone does. Jesus honored sinners with His life. He loves me so much that He sacrificed His life for mine. Should I not likewise go and honor others as Jesus did, unconditionally?

My two girlies are now all grown up. I sometimes feel chasms growing between us. I stare at the nose ring and think, “Like a ring of gold in a swine’s snout.” But I don’t say it. I force my eyes from the pierced septum and look instead at the beautiful eyes I’ve been gazing into for two decades.

She knows what I think about tattoos and piercings. I don’t need to mention it, harp on her, or nag. I need to love her, maintain the relationship, and let her know that I am always here for her, no matter what.

My mother needs to be honored, and my daughters need to be honored. Although I know I will fail miserably at times, my intent is to treat them better than they deserve. To honor them freely. Undeserved goodness lavished down upon them.

It’s called grace.

First published in Pursuing Perfection on Substack by © Tessa Lind, tessalind.substack.com