I Am a Fixer-Upper

The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

There is no denying it. There is something about a fixer-upper story that pulls us in.

If we scan the home improvement channels, we find television series after television series with the same premise—taking something ugly, rundown, and unnoticed and with the proper amount of love, attention, and belief—turning it into something new, something beautiful. No matter how many different versions there are, the frequency of which they are played, or how closely they mirror one another—we just can’t seem to get enough of them.

This phenomenon really got me thinking. What is it about a fixer-upper story that pulls us in? What is it that captivates us? Is it the classic underdog story? The rags to riches transformation? Or is it something on a deeper, more soulful level?

After some serious reflection, it seems my pull to these shows may not be the rustic, farmhouse interiors like I had previously thought.

My pull to these shows may just stem from my ability to see myself as the fixer-upper.

You see, three years ago my life was drastically different than it is today. Three years ago, I found myself laying on a cold bathroom floor in the middle of the night. I found myself cradling the baby in my womb as I shook with uncontrollable sobbing. I found myself in the darkest pit I had ever experienced, with my marriage and my life as I knew it shattered into pieces.

Like one of those properties, one day I had been a beautiful fixture standing tall. But over the years, the constant wear and tear paired with some devastating storms really took their toll on me until one day I found myself broken down and literally falling apart at the seams. My foundation had collapsed, and I could no longer stand on my own. One final blow to my exterior had allowed the storm waters to come rushing in and destroy everything of worth inside me.

Like one of those properties, I was dirty, damaged, and unworthy. I felt unnoticed and vacant. And I was beginning to believe this was the end for me, that there was no longer any hope. I was ready to be labeled, condemned and somberly welcomed the wrecking ball that would completely wipe me out.

RELATED: On the Unknown Road, God Walks Beside Me

But just as Chip and Joanna can see worth in something others have written off, a hand reached down to me, symbolically doing the same.

“He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand” (Psalm 40:2, NIV).

And at that moment, He began what I consider one of the most beautiful fixer-upper stories I have ever had the honor of witnessing. Over the course of three years, He would repair, rebuild, and restore. He would do so in such an unfathomable way, in a way only He can, a way that would render so many of us speechless and in complete awe.

He started first with the foundation.

This time, He would dwell here within these walls. So this time, He built a house upon the rock and He placed Himself as the almighty cornerstone. As the master carpenter, He effortlessly put up the walls, breathed life into the new bones, and structured a sturdy roof to shelter and protect. He purposefully fashioned countless windows—windows to allow light to shine into the darkness, windows that with time would also allow for light to shine out of them for others to see as well. And as the structural components were coming to an end, He lifted His brush for the final touches. With a beautiful tenderness, He washed the surfaces clean, washing them in pure white. And with a wave of His hand and from the depths of His compassionate heart, He began filling the once vacant property with an abundance of love until it was completely repaired, completely rebuilt, completely restored.

RELATED: Church Didn’t Change Me, Jesus Did

So here I stand three years later, a shining example of God’s grace, mercy, and restoration. Here I stand as a humble fixer-upper of the Lord Almighty. Now a brand-new, worthy creation. Now married into a sacred covenant with Him and the one He chose for me. Now reconciled and at peace with the past that destroyed me. And now blessed with another precious child in my womb.

Yes, here I stand as a humble fixer-upper of the Lord Almighty. The Lord has so graciously taken this former lost soul and called it to Him. The Lord has made me strong, firm, and steadfast.

The Lord has performed a miraculous restoration.

“And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen” (1 Peter 5:10-11, NIV).

Friend, may we never forget we serve an amazing, all-powerful God. May we never forget our God is a God of second chances, a God whose grace is always sufficient no matter the situation. May we never forget He sees us in our mess and in our filthy rags and doesn’t turn away but rather turns to us and meets us in it. May we never forget our God is the master fixer-upper, the master of restoration in all our lives and to Him be the glory!

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!

Jessika Sanders

Jessika is the founder and president of Praying Through ministries, a nonprofit that aims to equip and embolden men, women, and children with Biblical Truth as they journey through the difficult seasons of the NICU, PICU, and Child Loss. She is also a published writer who has been featured in Proverbs 31 Ministries’ Hope When Your Heart is Heavy devotional (2021), Focus on the Family’s Clubhouse Jr. magazine (2022), and Tyndale’s So God Made a Mother (2023). Jessika regularly writes for the Praying Through blog.

Your Worth Is Not Someone Else’s To Measure

In: Faith, Living

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

“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

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

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

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

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

Dear Lord, Bless This Mess

Motherhood

Dear Lord, Bless This Mess

You'll Never Regret Having More Kids

Kids

My pull to these shows may just stem from my ability to see myself as the fixer-upper.

He started first with the foundation.

The Lord has performed a miraculous restoration.

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

Your Worth Is Not Someone Else’s To Measure

Lord, Give Me Faith Like Hannah

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

Faith After a Rare Disease Diagnosis

What If I Don’t Hear God’s Voice?

God Holds You As You Hold Everyone Else

Yes, I Know Fear—but I Also Know Faith

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

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

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

Previous Post

Next Post

You May Also Like