A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I have a friend who recoils like a cobra ready to strike the moment she sees or hears anything related to Proverbs 31. If you aren’t familiar, think God’s job description for the perfect wife and mother which seems unattainable and feels more like a guilt offering.

When we are in the throes of marriage and/or child rearing, the sobering words within the saintly scripture can unglue even the Theresa, as in Mother.

Instead of a sharing a list of qualifications for the ideal woman to be more or less proficient in, God subjects us to a mouthy inventory of perennial womanly duties akin to the pureness of the Mary supposed to be in us, as in another Mother.

Meh.

What if there is more to Mrs. 31 than meets the hopeless eye? God often asks us to break down our walls of defense and search His truth with some fresh lorgnettes (lenses). When it comes to the challenging call of Proverbs 31, a little clarity will help all of us.

At first skim of the proverb, God appears to set the bar high in describing the quintessential, gold-star child-bearer and bride. As we cast His light of perfection upon our own inadequacies and failures lurking in the shadows of our wifely and mommy journeys, the visual can be u.g.l.y. , as in we ain’t got no alibi.

During certain seasons, the reality of how far below the bar our actions rank compared to the flawless lassie portrayed on papyrus causes us to want to curl up into the fetal position and wail ourselves to sleep.

Although I have done the crying thing, and the guilt binging thing, and the denial thing oodles of times, one season of despair I took the defensive route and started a petition.

My goal was to collect a million signatures from women around the globe who think Mrs. 31 is kinda, sorta on the far side of fetched.

I figured I could slam the binder down on God’s royal desk and demand he loosen up the strings of faultlessness.

Then a still small voice told me to read between the lines of Holy Writ. A more realistic picture began to unveil; revealing a watershed painting to hang on our whitewashed walls.

Here’s what I gleaned, with help from a realist angel. My confused mom heart began to unravel a little:

A wife of noble character who can find?
Exactly; God posed this as a rhetorical question for a reason.

She is worth far more than rubies.
And there is no disclaimer in this verse about our value dropping on bad days.

Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life.
Hear that hubbies? GOD SAYS we bring you good all the days of our life. So when we wear our crazy from PMS or sleep deprivation, remember we are really sheep in wolves clothing.

She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands.
You can’t spin through the clearance racks fast enough to find a family wardrobe to fit a $200 budget.

She is like the merchant ships, bringing her food from afar. She gets up while it is still dark; she provides food for her family and portions for her servant girls.
We get up while it’s dark because the middle of the night is the only time we aren’t being pulled in a zillion other directions. We have to go to the ends of the earth and back to find enough coupons to lessen our grocery bills and it ain’t happening unless everyone in the fam is catching z’s.

She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
Yes. We consider the produce at hand, and we buy it if it’s on sale. By being frugal with our earnings, we plant seeds of smart shopping within the hearts of our offspring.

She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks.
Of course we work vigorously. We have five minutes to mop the floor and three minutes to lug laundry to the washer before junior wakes up from his nap. Our arms are strong from the chores, yes, but the natural tension means organic buffing.

She sees that her trading is profitable, and her lamp does not go out at night.
Our lamp doesn’t go out at night because we rarely sleep. Either someone is crying or our hormone levels are upside down. And it’s the only time of day we can scan a chapter in one of the five books about being a better mother we are simultaneously trying to read.

In her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
We can chalk this up to stellar multi-tasking.

She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy.
Yes. Yes we do. This one’s easy.

When it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
In general, we do our best to have no fear for our household because they are clothed in Christ. Thank you, Jesus.

She makes coverings for her bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
Duh. Targét. (I actually prefer the Maxx)

Her husband is respected at the city gate, where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
We come to realize the wife’s respect towards her husband is far more important than all the elders.

She makes linen garments and sells them, and supplies the merchants with sashes. She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.
Oh, we laugh at the days to come and the days at hand. In the former because we know our trials with our children will come full circle in their own lives as parents; in the latter because we’re nuts.

She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
Sometime after age forty this begins to happen on a more regular basis.

She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness.
AMEN. 24/7. 365.

Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.”
Aw shucks. But, darn right!

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Give her the reward she has earned, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.
Raising a family pilfers much of our charm and beauty, but the love gained is a priceless bounty. We fear the Lord because we know he giveth and taketh.

And while we haveth, best enjoyeth, crazy Mommas!

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!

Shelby Spear

A self-described sappy soul whisperer, sarcasm aficionado, and love enthusiast, Shelby is a mom of 3 Millennials writing about motherhood and life from her empty nest. She is the co-author of the book, How Are You Feeling, Momma? (You don't need to say, "I'm fine.") , and you can find her stories in print at Guideposts, around the web at sites like Her View From Home, For Every Mom, Parenting Teens & Tweens and on her blog shelbyspear.com.

I Lost My Sight at 16—But It Wasn’t the End of My Vision

In: Faith
Cross and sunset

After my father shot me, I lay in a hospital bed, and my world went dark. I was 16 years old. The injury left me completely blind. But the darkness didn’t stop there. As my physical sight disappeared, something else came into focus—the depth of the wounds I had carried long before that moment, wounds I had never fully allowed myself to see. For years, I had learned how to survive without asking too many questions. I had learned how to minimize what hurt, how to explain things away, how to keep moving forward as if everything were normal. But...

Keep Reading

Ministry Starts Inside Your Own Four Walls

In: Faith
Family around a table

When people hear the word ministry, they often think of missionaries, or the pastor who preaches every Sunday, but in our home, ministry belongs to all of us—even our kids. Growing up, I didn’t think of myself as a ministry kid. Still, when my dad packed our old Astro for the summer and we all piled in, we were on mission. Each kid had a part to play in my dad’s evangelical magic shows (yes, you read that right!). My brother would juggle, my older sister sang, my middle sister flipped the projector slides that shone pictures of Jesus on...

Keep Reading

These Holy Small Things

In: Faith, Motherhood
Children sewing at machine

My 8-year-old-daughter has recently taken up sewing, to my simultaneous delight and chagrin. My delight because I too love sewing; my chagrin because her enthusiasm often outpaces my own abilities, namely, in the undertaking of tedious projects with no pattern. Take, for example, the cloth doll diaper we designed and stitched up together. Granted, the design was fairly basic to draw up and scale. But the minuscule nature of the work, both for my hands and head, was enough to throw me into existential questioning. It was one of those moments when you wonder how the sum of your life...

Keep Reading

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