A Gift for Mom! 🤍

It was time for the annual semi-dreaded first day of school picture for my two youngest boys who are now in high school. Since kindergarten, this has been our tradition. As the years have passed, the eye rolls have increased, but they’ve always indulged me.

This time as I was taking pictures of my handsome, quirky 17-year-old, a thought hit me so hard it took my breath away: this is his senior year. This is the last year I will take pictures of him for this occasion at our house. Of course, next year I will attempt to capture the moment on the college campus, poor kid!

While these thoughts are catapulting through my mind, I continued taking pictures with the silly grin on my face. Meanwhile, behind my ridiculous expression my turbulent thoughts are racing.

Wow! How do I not break down in this moment? This part of my parenting journey with my cherished middle son is almost over. In mere months he will be at college and I won’t see him every day.

I don’t think I can do this.

I know I have to.

Even though my heart is breaking, I cannot let him see my devastation. It is a joyous time in his young life. I need to share his happiness and not steal from his delight.

After the kids left, I realized this overwhelming, intense feeling applied to each stage of parenting my four children.

I don’t think I can do this.

There were the early days when they were infants and toddlers. I was completely hormonal and sleep deprived, sometimes even pouring juice into my coffee.

The poignant times when they threw a major temper tantrum in the store and I had to run from a store, clutching one or two precious screaming banshees.

I don’t think I can do this.

The multitude of heartbreaks, big and small, experienced in their own lives. I had to appear strong even though my heart was breaking, too.

The relentless, ridiculous squabbles between them that drove me to wait for my husband’s headlights to appear.

The trying months and years where I was trying to provide for my family, have a relationship with my husband, take care of my children and the house, and maybe find a spare minute or two to think about my own needs.

I don’t think I can do this.

These are little hoops compared to the major hurdles I’ve had to jump over along the way.

There are the shattering moments.

When I met with the school counselor multiple times because my oldest son was being bullied. He never fit in with his peers because he was so different.

Or the life-changing evening when I had to call the police because my oldest son threatened to harm himself. Unbelievably, I became the parent visiting her son in the mental hospital. That same soul crushing experience happened three more times.

Or now, years later, when I thought my child was on the right path, only to learn he continues making dangerous and wrong decisions. He is an adult, so there is nothing I can do but watch him, walk away, and pray fervently.

I don’t think I can do this.

I know I have to.

This powerful feeling can apply to all of the days, months, and years that make up our parenting journey. Amidst the daily challenges and in the depths of despair, I needed to be sturdy and resilient, even if inside I was crumbling. My family needed me to model strength and to be their shelter through life’s trickles and through the devastating storms.

How can I rely on myself to meet the rewarding and the exhausting trials of parenting?

I know that I can’t. No one can.

Remember, my fellow amazing moms, when you are feeling completely lost and alone—you are never alone.

God is there.

He sees the smile that is hiding the tears.

He notices the times you show patience, when you would rather throw a temper tantrum yourself.

He knows when you remain calm in situations even when the wildest mama bear is fighting to appear.

He observes when you hit your knees in desperation because that’s all you can do.

He absorbs the thousands of tears that soak your pillow when you feel guilty, unworthy, helpless, and hopeless.

Relying on God can help you to find the strength to endure and to flourish in this awe-inspiring role he has blessed you with. That’s all you can do.

You may feel like saying I don’t think I can do this—but God recognizes that you can.

You may also like:

Dear Teenagers, Be Patient While I Let Go

I Want to do More Than Just Survive my Teenager

This is How Moms Pray

Want more stories of love, family and faith from the heart of every home, delivered straight to you? Sign up here!

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!

Adrienne West

Adrienne is a Colorado native and would not want to live anywhere else! When she is not busy deciphering the perplexing boy brain of her three sons, or trying to please her diva daughter, you will most likely find her nose in a book or busy writing. She also loves finding great happy hour places with her husband, and acting young and sometimes crazy with friends! She does not spend enough time outdoors (unless forced to) and comes up with any excuse to put off cleaning her chaotic house. She is very grateful for her completely imperfect life.

Life Lessons from My Grown Children

In: Faith, Motherhood
Two women's hands on teacups

“Don’t limit a child to your own learning, for he was born in another time.” – Rabindranath Tagore Quietly communing with a loved one in the early morning hours is such an intimate and precious time. Visiting with one’s grown child when all is dark and still is one of life’s purest pleasures. I remember the conversation clearly. My daughter’s husband, small children, and father were all asleep as we whispered and chatted. She and I are both fidgeters by nature, unable to be still for long. This inner restlessness must be remedied, and we are compelled by biology to...

Keep Reading

My Prayer Is Simple Now: “I Believe; Help My Unbelief.”

In: Faith
Woman sitting by water

I have spent most of my life in faith. Not circling it or analyzing it from a distance, but inside it—learning its language before I even realized I was learning it, shaping myself around it in ways that felt as natural as breathing. I was raised in Christian Science, which is a very particular kind of faith. It’s not really about “believing” in the way most people think. It’s about understanding. Aligning your thoughts with what is ultimately true about God and reality. If you can understand rightly, you can be well. If you can see clearly, healing follows. So...

Keep Reading

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