09/23/2026
To the young mama in the middle of it all...
Today, as I was driving to pick Emma up from school, I started thinking about my four children and how different their lives are now.
My son is 31 and was at court today in his role as a police officer. My 28-year-old daughter and I are walking through a difficult season of distance. My 22-year-old daughter is at work, building her adult life. And my youngest, at 13, is sitting in a classroom waiting for me to pick her up.
Four children. Four separate lives.
They each have their own responsibilities, relationships, thoughts, struggles, dreams, and routines now.
And it made me remember a time when our worlds were all wrapped tightly around one another.
When they were little, my days revolved around caring for them. I planned the meals, the activities, the errands, the naps, and the bedtime routines. I knew what they were watching, who they were playing with, what they were worried about, and what made them laugh.
And for that short season, I was at the center of their little worlds too.
We did life together.
The days could be exhausting. Some were loud, messy, frustrating, and incredibly long. There were sleepless nights, strong-willed children, tantrums, spilled cereal, potty accidents, endless questions, and moments when I would have given anything for an hour of quiet.
Now, I have more of that quiet.
This is the first year Emma has been in school full-time, and after everything my body, mind, and heart have been through, I am grateful for peaceful moments.
But there is something about finally receiving the quiet you once longed for that makes you realize how precious the noise really was.
So mama, if you are raising little ones right now, please hear this with love:
You do not have to do everything perfectly.
You do not have to win every battle.
The pacifier will eventually disappear. The child who crawls into your bed will someday sleep in a room of their own. The picky eater will grow. The toys will leave the living room floor. The fingerprints will disappear from the windows.
Some of the things that feel enormous today will one day seem so very small.
So choose grace when you can.
Hold them a little longer.
Listen to the story they have already told you three times.
Laugh with them in the kitchen.
Dance while dinner is cooking.
Welcome their friends into your home.
Sit on the floor and play.
Let them see joy in you.
Most importantly, let them see Jesus in the way you live.
Let them see you pray.
Let them see you serve others.
Let them see you love people well.
Let them see you and your spouse show affection, work through disagreements, apologize, forgive, and begin again.
Children do not need a perfect home. They need to see what grace looks like inside a real one.
And while you are pouring so much of yourself into motherhood, do not forget that you are still a woman with a heart, gifts, friendships, and a calling of your own.
Nurture your marriage. Keep your friendships. Stay connected to other women. Serve. Laugh. Learn. Grow. Take care of your own heart too.
Because motherhood changes.
One day, your children will have jobs, friends, relationships, families, responsibilities, and lives that no longer revolve around you.
That is not a failure.
That is part of the beautiful work of raising them.
We spend years holding their hands so that one day they will be strong enough to walk their own path.
And when that day comes, you may be surprised by how much you miss the ordinary things.
The little voices calling “Mom.”
The bedtime routines.
The messy hair after a nap.
The tiny hand reaching for yours.
The shoes in the hallway.
The laughter coming from another room.
They may only remember pieces of those years, but you will carry so much of it in your heart forever.
Motherhood reminds me a little of eating the most delicious chocolate chip cookie.
While you are eating it, there are crumbs everywhere. It may be messy, and there may even be moments when you wonder why you thought this was a good idea.
Then suddenly, you are holding the last bite.
There is a little sadness because you know this part is ending.
But more than anything, there is gratitude.
You are simply thankful you got to have it.
So enjoy the cookie, mama.
Not perfectly.
Not without hard days.
Not without needing rest.
Just with a heart that remembers this season will not last forever.
Love them fiercely.
Give yourself grace.
Teach them about Jesus.
Keep becoming the woman God created you to be.
And whenever you can, soak in the ordinary moments.
Someday you may discover they were never ordinary at all.
