With her soft spring dress and beautiful blond hair, she could have been the “poster mother” on this Sunday Mother’s Day. They came in during the singing of the first song, she gently ushering a young man—probably in his thirties—ahead of her into the seats just in front of me. One glance confirmed that some would identify the young man as “different.” With somewhat vacant eyes, he sat or stood motionless as the service progressed, unresponsive to any stimuli.

One of the songs had the repeated phrase, He is good, God is good and I watched her quietly wipe tears first from one eye, then another as she sang. Soon she joined the congregation in singing the next song, the Chris Tomlin lyrics,

You’re a good, good Father
It’s who you are, it’s who you are, it’s who you are
And I’m loved by you
It’s who I am, it’s whom I am, it’s who I am. 

Some might find the repetition tasteless but as this beautiful mature woman sang, she seemed to want the words to ring out forever. More tears, her right hand lightly resting on her unresponsive son’s shoulder and her left hand raised high in praise. It was obvious to any who looked carefully that she sang the familiar words with a full heart—perhaps a broken heart?—a heart joyfully choosing to believe that God is good.

A good, good Father? If this was a birth child, how many days or weeks or months went by before the diagnosis? What did she protect him from? How did she prepare him for the life ahead? Does she have other children? If not, was it upon this one child that her dreams were shaped differently than she ever imagined?

And through it all she chose to sing from her heart, You’re a good, good Father…and I’m—we’re—loved by you. A picture of Mother’s Day faith.