So God Made a Mother Collection ➔

I see you there. The one who feels like maybe, just maybe, this Christian walk wasn’t designed for people like you. The one who feels like church is a big exclusive party, and your invite was lost in the mail. The one who is a little rough-around-the-edges. The one who feels like a square peg being forced into a round hole.

I see you, the one who desperately clings to that tiny mustard grain of faith and promise that God is for you, that He is sovereign. The one who constantly reminds yourself that He has your sanctification held in the palm of His handthat deep knowing that we will never fully arrive at perfection until we see Him face to face. The one who scrambles to hear the Holy Spirit, whispering truth amongst the clanging gongs of uncertainty.

I see you, doubting Thomas. The one who needs to feel the holes in Christ’s wounds, the one who needs to hear His voice boldly proclaim affirmation.

I see the frustration in your inability to simply believe, to shut off the brain God designed so intricately that likes to overanalyze every ebb and flow. The one who looks around and sees hypocrisy within the church walls and struggles to subscribe to it.

RELATED: To the Person Who Walked Away From the Church

I see you, mama, in this season of busy. The one who has inadvertently put Jesus on the backburner as the day slipped by like water through your fingers. I see your exhausted head hit the pillow in surrender and the tired prayer of hope that you are enoughfor your family, for your children, for your God. I see the subsequent waves of guiltof not doing enough, not being enough. I see your deep pangs of inadequacy as you spin a thousand plates that eventually smash to the ground, scratching up your shiny new hardwoods in the process.

I see you, new Christian. The one who is finding your footing in strange territory. The one who has seen things, been through things. I see you timidly stand in the doorway of the church, as you eye those shiny-looking people who seem to have it all figured out as you grapple with this new life and translating this impossibly gigantic book that promises to have all the answers.

I see you, Christian who feels the harsh divide of politics within the church. The one who feels like your brothers and sisters have drawn a line in the sand and cast you aside. The one who watches in alarm as Jesus is torn apart, taken advantage of, and piecemealed to fit the mold of man-made political parties.

I see your heart break as you witness the lack of unity and sharp tongues from representations of the One who is love.

I see you, because I am you.

RELATED: Sometimes Church is Hard

When my eyes are fixed on everyone around me, when the collective voices drown the truth I know as a believer, my faith begins to sink into a deep chasm of doubt and discouragement. But what is my faith rooted inwhat they say . . . or what He says? He made that brain that never stops thinking. He made that heart that never stops bleeding. He created me, and died for me, and knew my name on the cross, and thought of me, and bled for me, knowing every single imperfect detail of my existence.

He did that for perfectly-coiffed Cindy at church, and your pastor, and the pope, and the president.

He loves you, dear Christian who feels like a square peg. His grace is as everlasting as He is, His patience deeper than that chasm of discouragement you may feel you’re freefalling in.

He doesn’t scoff at doubtHe gently lays your hands on His wounds to say, I am here.

RELATED: To the Christian “Bad Girl” Who Wonders if She Belongs

He loves you even when the world says differently. Even when you feel left out. Even when you feel like you’ll never get this Christian thing together. His love isn’t fixed in peoples’ opinions or your opinion of yourself. You are fearfully and wonderfully made.

He loves you.

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me'” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Christie Crofford

Christie is a homeschooling mom of five living in the Midwest with her husband, Derrek. They recently built a home in the country, so she is busy learning the ropes of country living (and how to coexist with a lot of bugs.) She is an expert coffee reheater and killer of house plants but tries her hand at gardening anyway. You can find her at One Blessed Mess on YouTube or

Dear Child, God Sees All of You—And So Do I

In: Faith, Kids, Motherhood
Mom and young son painting together

Math has always come easily to him. Even from the beginning stages when we counted wooden blocks on the living room floor, the numbers just came to him. “How many blocks are there?” I asked him, pointing to the scattered row of blocks. I expected him to count them. He was only three or four years old. “Six,” he answered promptly. “Yes . . . but how did you know that?” I asked hesitantly. He had not taken the time necessary to have counted them. “Three and three are six,” he replied. And on it went. The math came easily,...

Keep Reading

Jesus Meets Me in Motherhood With His No Matter What Love

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother embracing daughter in sunlit room

My toddler was that kid on the playground—the one who would push and bite, erupting into a tantrum and needing to be carried home screaming. As I would carry my child to the car, the other moms looked at me with sympathy, confusion, fear, and . . . judgment.  Parents of challenging kids know this look well. We see judgment everywhere we go. I knew others were judging me, and I knew our challenges were beyond the normal bell curve, but as an overwhelmed young mom, I did all I knew to do: I blamed myself.  At my lowest, I...

Keep Reading

Dear Girl, Give Jesus Your Mess

In: Faith, Living
Woman holding Bible, color photo

Oh, dear girl, Give Jesus the mess. Your mess. The mess you think is too much or too big or too unbearable. The depths of the mess. The very worst of the mess. Lay it at His feet. He knew you long before the mess existed. Nobody knows your mess like Jesus. I assure you—this will not catch Him by surprise. Even when you do not understand, even when it is most difficult, even when you have your head buried in your hands. Praise Him, for God wastes nothing.  Even when it feels like opposition is coming at you from...

Keep Reading

A Mother’s Love Is an Endless Pursuit

In: Faith, Kids, Motherhood
Child on bike, color photo

I look at him and my heart breaks into a million little pieces. It simply hurts too much to know he hurts. He is my heart, and it squeezes and revolts when he struggles. I want to close my eyes and hold him close, and when I resurface, I want the world to be different for him. Look different, smell different, taste different. But, it remains the same, this pain.   In the beginning, when he was in my womb, I held my hands on my stomach and his tiny feet kicked me back. His bodily imprint on my skin. He...

Keep Reading

Motherhood Brings Me to the Floor and Jesus Meets Me There

In: Faith, Motherhood

I recently came across a short memoir writing competition with the theme, “Places that have made me, changed me, or inspired me.” I could write something for that, I thought. I’m by no means a jet-setter, but I do have a passport. I spent my 16th birthday in Russia on a three-week mission trip. During college, I lived in Thessaloniki, Greece for a four-month study abroad program. After my British husband and I got married, we settled in the UK, where we’ve spent the last 10 years. And now, I’m back in my sunny Florida hometown. These experiences and places...

Keep Reading

I Will Be a Friend Who Prays

In: Faith, Friendship, Living

You mentioned it casually. They had found a lump in your breast again. You’ve been here before, and maybe that means you better know how to navigate it. Except how can we possibly know how to handle such things? What emotions lie hidden behind your words? You tossed out words like lumpectomy and biopsy as if you were sharing a grocery list. I don’t know you well yet, but as you spoke the words, I had a deep desire to let you know I’m sorry. Seated around the table that night, you asked us to pray for you. I committed...

Keep Reading

I Wish I Could Tell You There Will Be No More Mean Girls

In: Faith, Kids, Motherhood
Mother and two daughters, color photo

Tonight before bed while I was tucking you in, you seemed really down. You are normally bubbly, talkative, full of laughter and life, but tonight you seemed sullen and sad. I asked what was wrong, and at first, you didn’t want to tell me. But then you shared with me what was breaking your heart. You told me about a mean girl. You told me the hurtful things she said and the unkind way she acted and the sneaky way mean girls bully by making you feel left out and less than.  It made me sad and angry. I didn’t...

Keep Reading

In the Hardest Moments of Motherhood, I’m Reminded to Look Up

In: Faith, Motherhood

It’s 3:00 in the afternoon, and you know the scene—I step on a tiny Barbie shoe as I’m walking to the sink. I shove it to the side with my foot and release a heavy sigh. I momentarily think about picking it up, but my back is aching from bending down to gather up treasures all morning. I place my half-filled coffee cup into the microwave to re-heat it for a second time. I need just an ounce of energy to get through the afternoon. My daughter heaves another basket of toys up from the basement, step by step. I can...

Keep Reading

Sometimes God’s Glory Shines Brightest in the Hardest Parts of Life

In: Faith, Living
Woman's hand with chipped nail polish

Half of the fingernails on my hands still show remnants of nail polish. It looks pretty awful. People might notice it and think, Really? You can’t take just five minutes to wipe off the chunks of color that haven’t flaked off already?  And I could. It probably wouldn’t even take five minutes. It’s not that I don’t have the time or that I’m being lazy. I just don’t want to.  You see, my daughter painted my nails almost a month ago. She’s five—they were never pretty to start with. They were sloppy with small strips at the edges left unpainted....

Keep Reading

God Tasked Us With Raising Beautiful People in a Fallen World

In: Faith, Motherhood

Today, I watched my little boy put an oven mitt over his hand and mix up an imaginary meal. Like any mother would be, I was touched to see my son enjoying himself—playing fearlessly in the Children’s Museum and exploring with many fun and creative toys. He would open the wooden fridge and purposely put a spatula in a specific compartment. Though his reasoning was not known to me—or anyone else for that matter—you could tell he had a plan for that metal spatula, and it was to be in that freezer. RELATED: The Secret No One Told Me About...

Keep Reading

 5 Secrets to Connect with Your Kids


Proven techniques to build REAL connections