Our fall favorites are here! 🍂


I married the most amazing, Godly man. Seriously, he is a dream. He is a wonderful leader for our family, he encourages me to keep my eyes on Jesus, and he inspires me with his steadfast faith. He is also the type of man who leaves me love notes, flowers, cute text throughout the day, and just generally shows me that he is always thinking of me. I don’t mean to brag, but he is basically everything a woman could ask for.

Which is how I knew something was wrong.

A couple of years into our marriage, I found myself becoming increasingly more angry and irritated with him, about little things. For example, if I didn’t get what I thought was enough attention from him, I would end up being very passive aggressive (which often turned into arguments). I wanted him to compliment me more, desire me more, love me more. I wanted him to want me more. Even though I knew how unreasonable that was, considering how much he was already giving me, I was craving more.

The realization hit me one day after we got in an argument about his attention always being elsewhere. I wanted him to fix the wounds in my heart. I wanted him to make all the hurt and pain go away. I wanted his love to be so big that I couldn’t feel anything else.

I wanted him to be my savior.

It’s an interesting thing because I know, in my mind, my husband cannot save me. I know who Jesus is and I know I can find my worth in Him alone. But I still find myself falling into the “fix me” trap with my husband.

And it always goes poorly.

Every time these lies creeps in, that he can fix, heal or save me, I expect him to behave in certain ways. He shouldn’t want to be with friends, he should want to be with me. He should want to talk about how I am doing and how I am feeling. He should be able to make me feel better when I’m down on myself.

When I have these expectations of him, he is doomed to fail, at least in my mind. There is no way he could live up to this all the time. No one could. I also set myself up for disappointment and feelings of rejection. He can’t cure and heal the deep-rooted pain in my heart. Even if he gave me all the time, attention, energy and love in the world, that’s not what I really need.

I really need my savior, I really need Jesus’ love.

I am reminded that the purpose of marriage is not to heal my wounds. It’s not even to make me feel happy or content (although this is a by-product of a good marriage). That’s not what God created marriage for. The purpose of marriage is to bring glory to God. Our marriage should be a symbol of Christ’s love. It should point people to Him.

Our marriage should mean two people loving each other to the best of their ability, but loving God even more. It should mean showing each other grace and forgiveness when we mess up, because Lord knows we will. It should NOT mean looking at each other with our wounds out and saying, “Here, fix it.”

Yes, we can be best friends and each other’s biggest support. We can root each other on, adventure through this life together, and create the life we want. But we cannot save each other.

Only God can do that.

The best part is that God is really, really good at what He does. He does it way better than our spouse, our friends, or our moms could. We were created to need Him. Our spouses are a bonus, but they aren’t the healer.

Now when I feel the thought come in, the thought that I want him to do more, say more, be more, I remember that my husband isn’t the answer. My husband is there to point me to the Lord, but the Lord is there to do the healing.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

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

Order Now

Kelli Bachara

Kelli Bachara is a wife and mom to two sweet kiddos. She is a mental health therapist, writer, and podcaster. Kelli loves her Goldendoodle, coffee, and this beautiful thing called life. You can find her at www.kellibachara.com.

All I Could Do Was Make It to Church Today

In: Faith, Motherhood
Close up of man holding baby in his arms in church pew with kids in background

All I can do is make it to church today. It was the final thought that shut the door on all the other thoughts this morning. The thoughts that said I don’t look good enough. I should put on makeup. I should wear something nicer. I should find a way to paint my nails without them getting smudged up from holding a baby before they dry. The thoughts that said I am not doing good enough. I should have made supper last night. I shouldn’t have used that glass pan that shattered in the oven while trying to steam bake...

Keep Reading

It’s Time to Talk about the Crushing Weight of Motherhood

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother and three children, color photo

As millennial women and mothers, we have been making waves in the sea of mental health. We have unashamedly and unapologetically shared our postpartum depression and anxiety stories so that future generations won’t feel as though they’re drowning in the weight of it all.  I remember sitting in my living room, staring at my newborn, crying in frustration and fear that I was already failing him.  I remember the pain of trying to use the bathroom for the first time after labor, to have family suddenly stop by, and feeling so embarrassed I screamed and they left, ultimately leaving me...

Keep Reading

Kids Need Grace and So Do Their Moms

In: Faith, Kids, Motherhood, Toddler
Woman touching child's forehead

We were having a hard morning. Our house was overrun with toys, I hadn’t had a chance to get dressed, and my stress level was increasing by the minute. To top it all off, my 3-year-old was having a meltdown anytime I spoke to her. Even looking in her general direction was a grave mistake. It was one of those days that as a parent, you know you’re really in for it. I was quickly losing my patience. My frustration began to ooze out of me. I snapped orders, stomped around, and my attitude quite clearly was not pleasant to...

Keep Reading

A Mother Doesn’t Have to Be Prepared to Be Sustained

In: Baby, Faith, Motherhood
Mother cuddling baby on a bed

I feel the warmth radiating from my weeks-old baby girl’s body onto my lap. She sleeps soundly. But I can’t. My jaw is clenched, my forehead is wrinkled, my body is tense. I’ve been in complete survival mode. Our baby girl unexpectedly made her appearance one month early due to some placental deficiencies and was born at three and a half pounds. I wasn’t prepared.  When I saw my sweet girl, my heart was instantly taken over by immense love and immense fear. Fear grabbing me with every thought, every breath. I wasn’t prepared.  She spent some time in the NICU but not...

Keep Reading

A Love That Will Never Leave You

In: Faith, Living
Cover art of book Pilgrim by Ruth Chou Simons

My firstborn spent a semester abroad in his junior year of college. Like any mom who’s separated from her child, I knew the exact distance between him and me those months he was away. It felt like a million miles, but it was actually only 4,533, including one very large body of water. While he was away, we weren’t even on the same continent, and truthfully, I hadn’t expected the ache to be so overwhelming. Thankfully, our weekly chats on video eased the sadness and served to remind me that, in spite of miles and time zones, there was no...

Keep Reading

Thank You God for Everyday Heroes

In: Faith, Living
Firefighter in gear walking, black-and-white photo

Tonight, our family watched a movie together. It was an action-adventure movie where, against unbelievable odds, the good guy saves the day. At some point during the movie, I turned to my husband, and said, “You’re that guy—the guy that is good in a crisis, who saves the day.” Once, when my husband and I were out for dinner, a woman seated near us fainted and was lying on the floor. The waiters and waitresses ran to her aid but didn’t know what to do. My husband is a firefighter/EMT. He had gone outside to grab a sweater, and when...

Keep Reading

I’ll Always Be the One Who Loved Them First

In: Faith, Motherhood, Teen
Family with three small boys standing in kitchen, color photo

I’m no longer the last person he says goodnight to. That’s a hard pill to swallow. Here we are, just raising these boys, hoping and praying things over their futures, watching them grow, teaching them independence and other life skills, hoping they have heard the things we have said, and praying they make our faith their faith and choose to follow Jesus. And then, just like that, without any warning, without asking my permission, there is someone special in his life. Someone he spends hours on the phone with. Someone he wants to spend his time with. Someone who isn’t...

Keep Reading

Dear Daughter, about That Other 4-Letter Word

In: Faith, Kids, Motherhood
Portrait of a beautiful little girl in blue shirt

As my kindergartner came bounding through the door back from the park, she seemed ecstatic to tell me all about her adventure, but what came from her sweet mouth was not the usual tale of making friends or playing make-believe. Instead, she stared up at me and said, “A little boy called me ugly.”  As I tried to assess her thoughts on the matter, her big brother was quickly confirming the story and acknowledging to me that it was not a very nice thing to say. As I looked at my husband coming in the door behind them, I could...

Keep Reading

Let Them Have a Bad Day, and Other Wisdom on Raising Teens

In: Faith, Motherhood, Teen, Tween
Mom comforting teen girl with head in hands

I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I have nearly four teens now, and I’ve learned a lot the hard way. I see other parents around me who are just getting to that stage make the same mistakes I did, so I want to share what I’ve learned:   If you want to teach your kids to walk in the way of God, you better not leave out teaching them about forgiveness. That’s a big deal to God. It’s pretty central. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, and the heaviness that comes when you have teenagers, and they...

Keep Reading

My Baby is Going to Kindergarten and God Will Go With Him

In: Faith, Kids, Motherhood
Little boy with green backpack walking to school

My baby is going to kindergarten, and I am not going to cry. Yep, you read that right.  My blessing baby (aka surprise addition) is going to kindergarten in seven days, and I am not a weepy crying mess. My kind quiet 10-year-old is starting his last year of elementary school, and I am not going to cry about that either.  And my firstborn—the tiny, five-pound baby girl who made me a momma—will be in eighth grade. Her last year of middle school before high school. It all seems like big changes and big moments. But I am not going...

Keep Reading