This weekend we celebrate the women who hold entire worlds together. The ones whose names are said in prayer, in gratitude, in the middle of the night when someone needs them. The ones who have sacrificed things nobody will ever know about, and who would do it all again without hesitation. The ones who have loved with the kind of love that does not ask for anything back.

There is a woman you are thinking of right now.

Maybe she is still here and you will call her Sunday morning, or sit across from her at a table and watch her pretend the food is too much when really it is exactly right. Maybe she is gone and this weekend carries a different kind of weight, the kind that does not announce itself but settles in somewhere around Thursday and does not fully lift until Monday.

Maybe the relationship is complicated. Maybe it always has been. Maybe you are still working through what she gave you and what she could not, and holding both of those things at the same time is its own kind of love.

This weekend belongs to all of them.

It belongs to the mothers, the stepmothers, the grandmothers who raised children twice. The aunts who became something more than aunts. The godmothers who took the title seriously. The neighbors who kept the door open. The teachers who stayed late. The coaches who believed first. The mentors who saw something before anyone else did.

It belongs to the women who wanted children and did not get to keep them, or never got to have them, and have quietly poured that love somewhere else for years.

It belongs to the women being celebrated for the first time this year. The new mothers still figuring out who they are now. The ones who just became stepmoms and are still finding their footing. The ones who lost their mother this year and are walking into their first Mother's Day on the other side of that loss.

It belongs to every woman in this community who has ever decided that someone else's child mattered enough to show up for. That is a kind of mothering. It counts.

Beaumont is full of these women. They are in the schools and the churches and the hospitals and the community centers. They are coaching the teams and running the classrooms and sitting in the pews and showing up to the events nobody asked them to attend. They are doing it without recognition, without titles, and often without a second thought.

To the ones still here: we hope Sunday feels like what you deserve.
To the ones we have lost: thank you for what you left behind. We are still living inside it.

Happy Mother's Day, Beaumont. 🌸

Happy Mother's Day to every woman who has ever loved someone into becoming who they are.

See you next week. 🌸