The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

2015. A number that brings with it a lot of focus on other numbers that are important to us. This is a time we make resolutions to change the math of our lives. We use many numbers to determine how we feel about ourselves. How fast we run a mile (or 5), the amount in our bank account, how many ounces of breast milk we produce, how many hours we work in a week, our GPA (or the GPAs of our kids), the square footage of our house, our volunteer hours, the number of events we’re invited to, or the number of Bible verses we memorize can all be numbers we use to evaluate how much our lives matter. In a season of resolutions it can be easy to focus on changing our numbers with the conscious or subconscious belief that those numbers are what’s really important— that we ARE our numbers.

As a mom with a new baby, that number on the scale has become pretty important to me. It’s a temptation for me to see the numbers not as just an indicator of my current weight, but as a judgement on my work ethic or my discipline or my beauty. And then there’s the other scale. The scale at my pediatrician’s office that seems to indicate if I’m a good mom. Is my baby gaining weight like the doctor thinks he should? Am I somehow failing at motherhood if he doesn’t conform to the growth curve?

What about the social math of our lives? Do we judge our worth by our number of friends or the likes and shares of the things we put out for the world to see? Do I compulsively check to see if I am a person of value as reported by the circle of people I’ve chosen? The struggles for acceptance and approval we thought would disappear when we packed away our high school yearbooks have returned as we strive to find meaning in our lives by being important to the people we think are silently judging our success.

But the LORD said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.”

1 Samuel 16:7

I am never just a compilation of my statistics. Changing the external math of my life rarely seems to change the person I am inside. And the process is never-ending. What starts as a desire to lose ten pounds turns into a quest for an unobtainable perfect body when I realize I don’t feel any better about myself when I’m ten pounds lighter. The desire to have more friends and be invited to more events is a monster I can’t control when I realize there will always be someone more popular or involved or loved than I am.

It’s good to be healthy and treat our bodies with respect. It’s good to have friends and be involved in a community we can serve and that blesses us, too. Being a wise steward of our money, our time, our talents is an important job we are given. But the moment they become an idol or the only way we define ourselves, we will be disappointed. Is it possible that instead of focusing on merely changing the outward appearance and trying to calculate our personal worth based on the math of our lives, we can make a resolution for a different kind of change? A heart change.

This year I want to think about the numbers that really matter to me. The numbers that represent my heart.

adoption photo
All photos by Love Equals Photography

1 husband— the one who loves me above himself and cares about my good. I need to prioritize our relationship and the work it takes to keep us unified and healthy. I need to actively pursue his heart and make myself vulnerable even when it feels difficult or scary. 

A wife of noble character is her husband’s crown, but a disgraceful wife is like decay in his bones.

Proverbs 12:4

6 children— the lives I need to invest in daily as I raise kids who I hope will love others, be responsible, and serve God. What will all the social admiration gain me if I lose the hearts of my kids? I need to be intentional about creating a home where they can thrive and can go confidently into a hostile world because they know how deeply they are loved. If they choose to reject the values I teach them, it will not be because they weren’t clearly explained and modeled in our home.

Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.

Proverbs 22:6

4,000 foster kids— the number of kids in the state of Nebraska that need an advocate. Helping them in whatever way I can is my passion. We all need something outside of ourselves that keeps us from becoming entirely self focused (or even home focused).

If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person’s religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.

James 1:26-27

These are the numbers that do in some way define me. They keep me grounded when the other math around me changes. They remind me of my purpose in life and keep me focused on the goals God has for me.

For each of us the numbers will be different, but what matters is that we try to see our lives as God sees them. We don’t base our value on the outside appearance, but on the heart. We need to accurately see our struggles and our gifts and reorient our lives to reflect the priorities of God.

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