Our Keepsake Journal is Here! 🎉

If you scroll on Facebook for any length of time, one would quickly discover how our nation feels about your generation. 

It’s ugly. 

The tide pod memes that fill my newsfeed are funny, don’t get me wrong. However, when I think about the kids they are representing, I can’t help but wonder about their voice—your voice. 

Kids will be kids, right? 

Well, by the sounds of it, no one over the age of 30 has ever done anything stupid in their life. 

And maybe they haven’t. Perhaps, unlike myself,  they escaped their early adult years without mishap or misfortune. I’m imagining there are the ones that never did the “bad things” their peers were doing. That’s just great. Take into consideration the fact that we were yet to be exposed to social media, we may never know the truth. Yet, all of your business is out there for everyone to gawk and criticize and gasp. 

You should be proud of yourself. 

I guess I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. I was beside the Tide Pod consumer and dope dealer. Binge drinking was an after school activity and 4/20 wasn’t just a day on the calendar. It was the day, aka senior skip day. 

I think about you kids and I laugh. 

Yes, I hate you’re having to learn the hard way, as I did, but let me share a story about my generation. A tale that happened before selfies, viral posts, and YouTube. 

You have Tide Pods. We had “Snake Eyes”. 

I really can’t believe I’m going to publicly admit this, but I feel it needs to be talked about. You are not the only ones who have participated in a less than bright idea.  

There is no way of romanticizing this. So, I’ll just get it all out in the open. 

Snake Eyes was when (usually at a party) you took a lit cigarette and BURNED YOUR OWN FLESH in two places directly adjacent to one another. Thus producing, “Snake Eyes”.  Yes. For real. 

It was a dubbing of sorts. A fun, harmless ritual that high schoolers thought was cool. 

You may be wondering if I had Snake Eyes. I had one. One burn mark because I was too chicken for both. Plus, I chose a more inconspicuous area to place my branding. I was called a wuss and I was 100 percent OK with that. 

I thought the scar would be there the rest of my life, but it actually went away. 

Can we agree we both suffered from a disease called invincibility?

This is the thing: I wasn’t invincible and neither are you. 

I felt like I was because I was young, healthy, and excited. I grasped life full throttle and that is the way we liked it. And that’s OK. 

But. 

You will answer for this craziness. So please be careful. 

Death is real and none of us are immune. 

One day, you will want babies and have a family and these things are so much more important than those fun-and-games life distractions. 

I grew up in a small town. I get it. Not much else to do, huh?

Challenge your soul to imagine bigger and set goals. 

Replace your dreams with steps to get there. Do the hard work of saying “no” to those challenges prompted by the next cool thing. 

Prove something to yourself for once, instead of relying on others to account for your actions. Because you will be held accountable for yours. 

There is abundant life and you need to live. Living doesn’t mean gates wide open 24/7. 

Living can be a simple, yet profound act of walking the other way. Taking a different route. Seeking out that for which you were made. 

That’s living. 

You are not stupid. 

You just haven’t realized your strength. 

Your potential. 

Your gift. 

Your talent. 

Your opportunities. 

Your self-worth. 

Your beauty. 

One more thing . . . 

You are ruthlessly loved. 

The God of the universe sent His only son, Jesus, to take on your sin debt. Just. For. You. 

He loves you that much. 

You are deeply cared about and Christ made a way for you. 

Turn around and run the other way—right into His arms.

Are you ready to really live? 

The door is open and He is waiting. 

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Laura Hurd

 I am a stay at home mom to two beautiful boys, my youngest having been diagnosed with Autism. Our family motto is that the little things are the big things.

I Thought Our Friendship Would Be Unbreakable

In: Friendship, Journal, Relationships
Two friends selfie

The message notification pinged on my phone. A woman, once one of my best friends, was reaching out to me via Facebook. Her message simply read, “Wanted to catch up and see how life was treating you!”  I had very conflicting feelings. It seemed with that one single message, a flood of memories surfaced. Some held some great moments and laughter. Other memories held disappointment and hurt of a friendship that simply had run its course. Out of morbid curiosity, I clicked on her profile page to see how the years had been treating her. She was divorced and still...

Keep Reading

The First 10 Years: How Two Broken People Kept Their Marriage from Breaking

In: Journal, Marriage, Relationships
The First Ten Years: How Two Broken People Kept Their Marriage from Breaking www.herviewfromhome.com

We met online in October of 2005, by way of a spam email ad I was THIS CLOSE to marking as trash. Meet Single Christians! My cheese alert siren sounded loudly, but for some reason, I unchecked the delete box and clicked through to the site. We met face-to-face that Thanksgiving. As I awaited your arrival in my mother’s kitchen, my dad whispered to my little brother, “Hide your valuables. Stacy has some guy she met online coming for Thanksgiving dinner.” We embraced for the first time in my parents’ driveway. I was wearing my black cashmere sweater with the...

Keep Reading

To The Mother Who Is Overwhelmed

In: Inspiration, Motherhood
Tired woman with coffee sitting at table

I have this one head. It is a normal sized head. It didn’t get bigger because I had children. Just like I didn’t grow an extra arm with the birth of each child. I mean, while that would be nice, it’s just not the case. We keep our one self. And the children we add on each add on to our weight in this life. And the head didn’t grow more heads because we become a wife to someone. Or a boss to someone. We carry the weight of motherhood. The decisions we must make each day—fight the shorts battle...

Keep Reading

You’re a Little Less Baby Today Than Yesterday

In: Journal, Motherhood
Toddler sleeping in mother's arms

Tiny sparkles are nestled in the wispy hair falling across her brow, shaken free of the princess costume she pulled over her head this morning. She’s swathed in pink: a satiny pink dress-up bodice, a fluffy, pink, slightly-less-glittery-than-it-was-two-hours-ago tulle skirt, a worn, soft pink baby blanket. She’s slowed long enough to crawl into my lap, blinking heavy eyelids. She’s a little less baby today than she was only yesterday.  Soon, she’ll be too big, too busy for my arms.  But today, I’m rocking a princess. The early years will be filled with exploration and adventure. She’ll climb atop counters and...

Keep Reading

Dear Husband, I Loved You First

In: Marriage, Motherhood, Relationships
Man and woman kissing in love

Dear husband, I loved you first. But often, you get the last of me. I remember you picking me up for our first date. I spent a whole hour getting ready for you. Making sure every hair was in place and my make-up was perfect. When you see me now at the end of the day, the make-up that is left on my face is smeared. My hair is more than likely in a ponytail or some rat’s nest on the top of my head. And my outfit, 100% has someone’s bodily fluids smeared somewhere. But there were days when...

Keep Reading

Stop Being a Butthole Wife

In: Grief, Journal, Marriage, Relationships
Man and woman sit on the end of a dock with arms around each other

Stop being a butthole wife. No, I’m serious. End it.  Let’s start with the laundry angst. I get it, the guy can’t find the hamper. It’s maddening. It’s insanity. Why, why, must he leave piles of clothes scattered, the same way that the toddler does, right? I mean, grow up and help out around here, man. There is no laundry fairy. What if that pile of laundry is a gift in disguise from a God you can’t (yet) see? Don’t roll your eyes, hear me out on this one. I was a butthole wife. Until my husband died. The day...

Keep Reading

I Can’t Be Everyone’s Chick-fil-A Sauce

In: Friendship, Journal, Living, Relationships
woman smiling in the sun

A couple of friends and I went and grabbed lunch at Chick-fil-A a couple of weeks ago. It was delightful. We spent roughly $20 apiece, and our kids ran in and out of the play area barefoot and stinky and begged us for ice cream, to which we responded, “Not until you finish your nuggets,” to which they responded with a whine, and then ran off again like a bolt of crazy energy. One friend had to climb into the play tubes a few times to save her 22-month-old, but it was still worth every penny. Every. Single. One. Even...

Keep Reading

Love Notes From My Mother in Heaven

In: Faith, Grief, Journal, Living
Woman smelling bunch of flowers

Twelve years have passed since my mother exclaimed, “I’ve died and gone to Heaven!” as she leaned back in her big donut-shaped tube and splashed her toes, enjoying the serenity of the river.  Twelve years since I stood on the shore of that same river, 45 minutes later, watching to see if the hopeful EMT would be able to revive my mother as she floated toward his outstretched hands. Twelve years ago, I stood alone in my bedroom, weak and trembling, as I opened my mother’s Bible and all the little keepsakes she’d stowed inside tumbled to the floor.  It...

Keep Reading

Sometimes Friendships End, No Matter How Hard You Try

In: Friendship, Journal, Relationships
Sad woman alone without a friend

I tried. We say these words for two reasons. One: for our own justification that we made an effort to complete a task; and two: to admit that we fell short of that task. I wrote those words in an e-mail tonight to a friend I had for nearly 25 years after not speaking to her for eight months. It was the third e-mail I’ve sent over the past few weeks to try to reconcile with a woman who was more of a sister to me at some points than my own biological sister was. It’s sad when we drift...

Keep Reading

Goodbye to the House That Built Me

In: Grown Children, Journal, Living, Relationships
Ranch style home as seen from the curb

In the winter of 1985, while I was halfway done growing in my mom’s belly, my parents moved into a little brown 3 bedroom/1.5 bath that was halfway between the school and the prison in which my dad worked as a corrections officer. I would be the first baby they brought home to their new house, joining my older sister. I’d take my first steps across the brown shag carpet that the previous owner had installed. The back bedroom was mine, and mom plastered Smurf-themed wallpaper on the accent wall to try to get me to sleep in there every...

Keep Reading