Remembering God’s perfect design and care for our children and us—from the womb—comforts our hearts even as we lament a hard diagnosis.

Our joyful movement as moms is a means of imaging the Giver of life and breath, stewarding our minds and bodies well, and blessing the people around us.

Working moms can find freedom from guilt and rest in Christ as we navigate our responsibilities and time away from our kids.

In teaching our children how to talk to God, we can draw attention to his character of love and responsiveness towards his people.

Whether our earthly family is a place of joy or heartache, it can point us to God’s eternal family—the place we all belong.

It doesn’t take long for us to realize that our fairytale visions of marriage are just that—a fairytale. In real life, marriage tends to be much harder than we imagined. But it can also be much richer. Here’s good news for real marriages.

We didn’t know where we were headed and in many ways, we didn’t mind. God was doing things bigger than us—we were just there for the ride.

It took me 14 months and a second pregnancy to admit I had a traumatic birth. Nearly a year and a half later, I finally realized what had been hovering over my shoulder like a black cloud, a haze enveloping me ever since the birth of my first...

I think our deepest fears are faced when we experience trauma. In the moments between my body beginning contractions and finally meeting my son, I came the closest to my mortality as a person I had ever been. Traumatic births bring the fragility of our existence front and center...

But there is hope. Coming to us through the very same process we are struggling through, the very process God cursed: Mary carried Christ for nine months, laboring, groaning, and finally delivering our redeemer in a barn.

God used the curse, to break the curse.

I cannot protect my children from everything. But I can point them to the one who can.
 

Today I'm reminded of how far I am from being a good mother, a good friend, a good wife / sister / daughter / church member / volunteer – a good anything! I feel split in two, like I live in the in-between. I want to do better, oh how I long to do better. But the needs keep coming at me and I fail over and over again. I just can't seem to get it together.

At times, it can feel pretty bleak. Why can I not live out what I know, I know? If I have Christ, why do I sometimes feel lost? If I know his promises are true, why do I act like they don't exist?

In high school and college I spent a lot of time in scripture, but as I started working, got married and had really little littles, I wasn't spending a lot of time in the Bible. I hunted and pecked here and there, did a few inductive Bible Studies – my time and depth ebbed and flowed depending on what I was involved in and who was holding me accountable.

And with the lack of time, I felt some of my passion for God dry up. If you asked me, I would have told you I wanted a more passionate relationship with the Lord, but I'd tell you that for one reason or another I was just kinda going through a dry spell. And if I were honest with you – if I were honest with myself – I would have told you that I believed God was the distant one, not me.

I look down at my shoes, worn black Vans, and rub the dried formula off the toe. I hastily tuck my hair behind my ears and catch my baby girl smiling at me from the corner of my eye. I move to the stove to look down at the oatmeal I'm making for breakfast, stirring in raisins and obscene amounts of peanut butter to try to hold off the request for a snack for at least a couple hours.  

There's this thing I've noticed when you become a mom, it happens abruptly beginning with the first night of the first babe, yet I'd be willing to bet that most moms don't even notice it happening. It's subtle, a common thread among all of motherhood - but one that would rather not be noticed, not be plucked out and put on display.