The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

Written by Maralee Bradley

Photos by Rebecca Tredway

My Daughter,

You are just a little bitty thing. You won’t sleep without your favorite stuffed pig, you cry if Daddy leaves for work without giving you a kiss, and when your brothers mistreat you, you punch them and then come tattle. You are a treasure. You are at once every bit a little lady with your love of hair bows and Easter hats for all occasions but also tough and independent. You tell me you are too big for naps or to have to hold a hand in the parking lot (but I make you do both), but you tell me you are too small for spinach or to go to bed without being tucked in.

I love to see how God has uniquely gifted you. Some moments it’s hard for me to picture how all those personality traits and talents will come together to form the woman you are becoming, and sometimes it’s crystal clear. I know you will be strong. I know you will be vulnerable. I know you will love passionately and possess a strong desire to be loved and accepted. I know that whatever choices you make, I will love you.

bethany_piggieI imagine that someday you will become a mother yourself. I don’t know if I will be with you in that first year after your baby is born. I’ve learned not to hold the future too tightly. I also know that as the years pass from these days when you are so little yourself into your blossoming womanhood, there is much I will have forgotten about what it’s like to be a mom of little ones. Even now I see how it starts to seem so rosey in my memory, but it’s still close enough that I can recall the reality.

So if you’re scared, just know I was too. If you agonize about every little choice because they seem so big in your mind, it’s okay. You feel that way because you love this little person and it matters to you to do it right. That is beautiful. The best thing you can do is surround yourself with people who love you and your little family and have some wisdom and support to offer. Learn from the women who have walked this road. Be humble. But also know that YOU are this baby’s mother. Other women may have raised wonderful children, but God gave this baby to you. There is no parenting book that can tell you exactly what your baby will need in all the unique situations you will find yourself in. So learn to pray. God loves this child more than you do and longs to see His love expressed through your tender actions of mothering. And your consistent discipline, too.

bethany_colorI also know that if you and I continue to grow in closeness and if I continue to obey the Lord in being the best mother for you I can be, there may come a moment in your parenting where you feel you can’t live up to what you remember of your childhood. I know that moment well. I love my mom and have often felt that I can’t be what she was.

I am thankful that my mom gave me such a beautiful childhood. I am thankful now for her wisdom and for how well she loves you and her other grandchildren. But this is what I’ve learned:  God gave me different gifts than he gave my mom. He made me a different kind of mother and he gave me different children with different needs. He knew what he was doing. I hope you will let me talk with you about the problems you will someday face as a mother, but know that the wisdom God gave me for my children may not be what you need for yours, but he is sufficient for your needs, too.

And if you think I always knew what I was doing when you were little, it’s because I made a lot of mistakes before you came along. . . and because I got really good at faking it. There were times I was so exhausted I cried. Sometimes I would use the bathroom just to get away for a second. I said things that weren’t kind.

I made decisions I wasn’t sure were best, but I stuck with them. You’re going to do that a lot, too. It’s a really big part of being a mom. We don’t know if we did the right thing until so far down the line. And the stakes feel SO very high. We want our kids to know they’re loved and feel safe and empowered to make good choices of their own when the time comes, but in their toddler years I think all children look like tiny sociopaths and their mothers feel like the prison warden. Don’t ever think that you are alone when you feel that frustration or confusion.

Or maybe instead you’ll remember my failings all too well. Maybe you’ll agonize about becoming the kind of mother I was. You grew up feeling stifled by my routines or you didn’t think I embraced your creativity and emotions enough. I know I’ve made many mistakes and I’ll make many more before you’re grown and gone. I hope you’ll have grace for the ways I may have failed you. And I hope you’ll be able to learn from them and be a better mother than I was. You don’t need to feel trapped into making the mistakes I made or the mistakes your birthmother made. You are a beautiful soul and you have your own strengths and weaknesses. You don’t have to make the mistakes I made, but you will make your own new ones. And that’s okay. There will be grace for you, too.

bethany_maralee_bwAlthough you and I are in very different stages of life now, motherhood is a great equalizer. And outside of God, you, and your husband, nobody will care more about your precious kids than I will. Help me to have a good relationship with them by being honest with me and establishing the right kind of boundaries. I imagine that will be hard, but it’s important to me and to you and your kids that you are in charge. And if you decide you never want them to have candy or plastic or McDonald’s or their feet touching the floor, I will do my best to support whatever it is you want for them because I want to raise you to be the kind of woman I would trust to make those important decisions.

I love you, Little Miss. I look forward to the day we can celebrate Mother’s Day together—just two moms swapping stories about our kids. I know this Sunday you will give me a little something special you colored with me in mind (because you are incapable of keeping secrets and I love that about you), but I hope you know that YOU are the best gift. YOU are the reason I am a mother and I feel silly about taking a gift from you when I know that without your little life, mine would be pretty empty. When the hard and awkward times come, I hope these years when we have been “the girls” (as you love to say) and snuggled cheek to cheek for story time and painted toenails together and done Dora puzzles side-by-side will help see us through. As I tell you every day, I am your mommy forever. Nothing will ever change that or my love for you. And I am forever thankful.

Love,

Mommy

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Maralee Bradley

Maralee is a mom of six pretty incredible kids. Four were adopted (one internationally, three through foster care) and two were biological surprises. Prior to becoming parents, Maralee and her husband were houseparents at a children’s home and had the privilege of helping to raise 17 boys during their five year tenure. Maralee is passionate about caring for kids, foster parenting and adoption, making her family a fairly decent dinner every night, staying on top of the laundry, watching ridiculous documentaries and doing it all for God’s glory. Maralee can be heard on My Bridge Radio talking about motherhood and what won't fit in a 90 second radio segment ends up at www.amusingmaralee.com.

Your Worth Is Not Someone Else’s To Measure

In: Faith, Living
Woman looking over canyon

Insecurity is something we all carry in one form or another. For me, it has probably always looked confident and outgoing from the outside. But internally, it can feel heavy, complicated, and exhausting at times. And when someone comes along whose behavior reinforces those insecurities, it amplifies what was already there. There was someone I had hoped to genuinely connect with, but it was clear from the start that the feeling wasn’t mutual. From the beginning, their wall was up. No matter how kind I tried to be or how carefully I showed up, it never came down. Their distance...

Keep Reading

Lord, Give Me Faith Like Hannah

In: Faith
Woman walking in field with hand in wheat

Hannah knew what it was like to feel forgotten. She often clutched her empty womb and thought Surely the Lord has forgotten me.  She knew the bitter sting of feeling isolated and alone. She knew the anguish of praying day after day after day and seeing no fruit, not even a bud, from her faithfulness. Hannah knew what it was like to feel like the weight of the world was on her, and her hope may have dwindled. Even those around her did not offer encouragement. Quite the opposite—they did their best to sow seeds of discouragement. Yet Hannah pressed...

Keep Reading

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman at the beach as waves come in

“Ahhh!” My underwater scream garbled in my snorkel tube as the manta ray’s cavernous mouth swept a hand’s distance from my face. My fingers tightened around the surfboard until my knuckles ached. My arms trembled. I jerked my head side to side, searching for my daughters, Mia and Megan. Recent college graduates, they had joined me on one last mother-daughter vacation before launching their adult lives. They floated easily on the vibrant Hawaiian water, relaxed, trusting. I wanted to borrow their calm. Earlier, our guide had explained that the LED lights built into the surfboard attracted plankton the way college...

Keep Reading

Faith After a Rare Disease Diagnosis

In: Faith, Motherhood
Family smiling in posed photo

My pastor frequently speaks of “kid pain” and acknowledges there’s nothing like it. I can testify to that. After nine months of uncertainty and unexplained issues following the birth of our now 4-year-old daughter, Harlow, we finally received her diagnosis of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase Complex Deficiency (PDCD), a life-limiting mitochondrial disease with no cure and no FDA-approved treatments. It was heartbreaking. In moments like these, a parent can fall into complete desperation. You go through a range of emotions almost too fast to name: fear for your child’s life; anxiousness about how much time you’ll get with them; overwhelming grief. And...

Keep Reading

What If I Don’t Hear God’s Voice?

In: Faith
Woman with folded hands looking up

There have been many times over the years when I’ve heard others share stories of how the Lord spoke to them or gave them a sign. Seashells scattered along a sandy beach, numbered to represent how many children they would have. A quiet walk in the park, followed by a clear sense that another little one was coming. What a blessing, I think, when I hear and read their stories. I often wonder how much more faith they must have than I do—to know with such certainty that what they heard was truly God speaking. I listen, I smile, and...

Keep Reading

God Holds You As You Hold Everyone Else

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding toddler daughter on her hip, standing outside

She stands in the kitchen, hands trembling over the sink, tears she cannot let fall pressing behind her eyes. The world outside her window is quiet, but inside her heart there is a storm she cannot name. She is hurting, not because she does not love her life, but because somewhere along the way she forgot how to breathe inside it. Yet even in her pain, little voices call her name. Tiny hands tug at her shirt. Lunchboxes need packing, homework needs checking, hearts need holding. And so she wipes her face, forces a smile, and whispers a quiet prayer:...

Keep Reading

Yes, I Know Fear—but I Also Know Faith

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding child's hands in hospital bed

The night my daughter woke up screaming at 3 a.m., I knew something was wrong. Her cry wasn’t the half-asleep whimper of a bad dream. Instead, it was pain—raw and sharp. Within an hour, we were rushing to the emergency room, the world outside our headlights still wrapped in darkness. Tests, scans, questions, and then the words no parent ever wants to hear: “We’re transferring her to another hospital by ambulance. She needs surgery right away.” They said “torsion.” They said “tumor.” They said “appendix.” I nodded, because that’s what mothers do. We stay steady, even when our hearts are...

Keep Reading

10 Years after My Mother’s Death, Her Faith Still Guides Me

In: Faith, Grief
Woman praying

Growing up, I was a reluctant Catholic. My mother would drag us to church, and I’d go through the motions—fingers moving across rosary beads without really feeling the prayers. But she never stopped. Sunday Mass, daily prayers, devotions to the Blessed Mother. She was relentless in her faith, not because she was trying to force it on us, but because she genuinely believed we would need it someday. She was right. My mother died of stage 4 colon cancer in 2012. My brother and I watched her suffer, saw how her body betrayed her, watched as treatments failed. And here’s...

Keep Reading

Finding God in the Middle of Disbelief: A Mom’s Journey through Faith and Fear

In: Faith
Mother holding hand of young child, silhouette

“But the Lord is with me like a mighty warrior; so my persecutors will stumble and not triumph over me.” – Jeremiah 20:11 God, thank You for making sure my son is okay. Thank You for this just being paranoia. I believe in You. I believe in Your control. I believe. I believe. I believe. These words streamed through my head as my husband drove us downtown to visit our first specialist with our 4-month-old son, Maximus. Our pediatrician had written me off, but I could not ignore the feeling in my bones that something was wrong. Tiny, hard bumps...

Keep Reading

In Praise of Indebtedness: How Threads of Reciprocity Weave Us Together

In: Faith, Living
Woman holding casserole

It all started with tomatoes. After we moved, a neighbor invited us to pick from the abundance in her and her husband’s gardens. In return for a pile of tomatoes gathered from their raised beds, I left a plastic bag of homegrown pumpkins on their porch. Later that summer, our neighbor stopped by with a recycled container full of still more fruits. By the fall, we were sharing chili and cookies over dinner at our place. Threads of indebtedness were weaving us together. For most of my life, the idea of indebtedness has tasted rather repulsive on my tongue. The...

Keep Reading