Whenever I wonder, “is it worth it?”
Whenever I think, “being a mother is hard.” Whenever I worry, “can I give each child enough love?”
I think of my sisters.
My best friends. My peer pressure. My workout partners.
I think of years of sleepovers. The shoulders to...
But how do we raise our children now? On a planet broken, angry, divided.
The same way we have always done in a world opposed to God.
The same way Samuel’s mother gave her long-desired baby to God, though it broke her heart to let him go.
The same way Moses’s mother hid him in the...
Ten younger siblings were always in my space.
We rubbed shoulders all day in our one room schoolhouse called “home.”
Played sports together. Sang together. Ate every meal together. Shared bedrooms together.
This created conflict.
But where there is conflict, there is room for resolution.
We are the kids, crazy in love.
We are the parents, tired, no breaks.
We are the lovers, passionate, romantic.
We are the partners, going through motions.
We are the dreamers, anything is possible.
We are the realists, life is a challenge.
We are the best friends, laughs, inside-jokes.
We are the...
I am the pinch-lipped mom.
I want to smile at my children but I don’t have it in me. I’m exhausted. Tired. Worn down.
I am the pinch-lipped mom.
Maybe it’s the meltdown in the grocery isle.
The constant back talk. The 6am wake ups demanding snacks and attention.
I am the pinch-lipped...
When did it become noble to say, “I’m doing it for me?”
When did it become wrong to do something for someone else?
To do something for no other reason, than that it brings someone you love joy.
“I’m doing it for myself. I’m doing it because it makes me feel...
Some of us can feel guilty our babies came tumbling earth-side one after another faster than you can say 1,2,3.
Almost like we took those precious moments of solitude away from our first-borns—children who will never remember life without another.
But then I remember Kyla.
She came into my...
I’m the only one that sees him get four children dressed for church each Sunday so I can have extra time to get ready. Clean dirty diapers without mentioning it. Buckle them all in their car seats so I don’t have to.
I’m the only one who knows he thanks me for dinner when...
I worried I wouldn’t like being a mother.
All I heard and saw of motherhood was chaos and survival, pain and loss, no sleep, no sex, and the end of good times.
Except for Mommy.
She gave me hope.
Hope that motherhood could be rich with joy. Hope that I could still have a romantic marriage. Hope...
I was created to be the joyful Mother of children. (Psalm 113:9) Not the anxious mother. Not the frazzled mother. Not the overwhelmed mother . . . the JOYFUL mother.
I was created to be a mother that doesn’t just feel happy when things are going right, but has a deep supernatural joy when...
For months I’ve felt myself cracking.
My body. My mind. My emotions.
I thought I knew who I was—what I wanted to be. But it all became so fuzzy, so hopeless.
Each morning, I’d get up, tie the pieces together, and keep blindly charging into the fog. Praying for a light at the end...
He gently leads those that are with young . . . but how often do I follow?
How often do I lay in bed listening to the Accuser tell me I haven’t done enough? Instead of reminding myself I don’t have to “do” because He has already done?
He gently leads those that are with...