So God Made a Mother Collection ➔

For years I haven’t put much thought to racism. I’m ashamed to say it, but it’s true.

I’ve been taught my whole life not to judge by skin color, and honestly, I am just usually happy when anyone wants to be my friend. 

I figured I was doing my part just by being kind to everyone.

That’s partly true.

But when Coronavirus reared its head into society, I learned something valuable.

When news of the pandemic broke out, I was afraid. I’ll say it. I’m not ashamed of that. Not for me, but for my asthmatic son, my brother in law on oxygen, and dear friends in the medical field.

So I bought the toilet paper (I didn’t hoard it, I promise.) I sanitized all the things. And told my kids we were ready to hunker down. I didn’t scare them, I just informed them that we were keeping others safe.

Scrolling social media (because seriously what else was there to do?) I noticed something quickly. Not everyone thought this was a big deal like I did.

That was OK with me because I don’t ever expect someone else to think like me. I appreciate all opinions and thoughts because it’s important that everyone has a voice.

But then, things got mean. Names started getting thrown around.

Freedom haters.

My heart hurt. I just wanted people to see me and understand that I cared about all of it. 

The virus. The economy. The kids who desperately need school in their lives (because not everyone has a safe home to quarantine in).

And the spiral of anger began in me. It caused my eyes to scale and I refused to see any other side.

RELATED: This is the New Mental Load of Motherhood

Slowly, our economy has begun reopening. My county has, thankfully, only seen five cases of COVID-19 with zero hospitalizations. That number has held since things opened back up.

And now, I scroll and see so many posts from people angry at others for sitting in a restaurant or living life again.

Idiots (this tends to be a popular one in all directions).
I hope the hospital won’t take you when you get the Rona.

And it hurts. I’m being safe. I’m following the regulations. But still, people are just so angry. I just want to be seen and validated—maybe that’s silly, but there it is.

Then when the video of George Floyd came across my newsfeed, I couldn’t watch it. I thought for a moment, I’m OK because I love everyone.

I’ve shied away from the posts of my black friends who fear for their children because I don’t feel adequate to respond.

But when I thought about how I’ve felt during the pandemic, I suddenly started to see.

They need validated. They need us to look into their hearts and see their reasons. Understand their fears. And be willing to say, “I might not be experiencing that myself, but I know you are and I know it hurts. And I’m sorry.”

RELATED: Black Mama We See You; White Mama We Need You

If we all search ourselves, we will find a place reaching out and asking others to see. I know I do.

So, that’s what I am doing.

The only difference I might ever make—other than teaching my kids by example—is to look into another’s eyes and say, “I hear your heart. I stand beside you in your hurt. Even if I don’t know it myself. You are loved.”

Meg Duncan

Meg Duncan is a Christian author and columnist. Her writing takes readers to recognizable places and assures them they aren’t alone. From raising children, navigating marriage, sorting laundry piles, and avoiding carbs (or blissfully embracing them, depending on the day), she combats self-doubt with humor and grace.

While I Wait for Another Door to Open, I’ll Hold One For Someone Else

In: Faith, Living
Woman teaching another woman by computer

I’m waiting for another door. All my life, I’ve been told that when God closes one door, He opens another. And here I am, staring at the imminent end of the business I’ve built from nothing. Closing down what I started up from sheer willpower, too much caffeine, and the bold determination to work for myself. Scratching out what I made from scratch . . . and it feels horrible. God didn’t just close this door. He slammed it shut, boarded the whole thing up, and hammered the nails in where I cannot pry them open. Believe me. I’ve tried....

Keep Reading

The Pain of Loving an Addict and the Power of Love

In: Living
Couple embracing in hallway

Mental health is no joke. Addiction is no joke. In my experience, these things go hand in hand. People often turn to things like alcohol and drugs when they are looking for an escape from reality. And people with certain mental health struggles are more prone to addictions than people without. These behaviors are a cry for help. They are not attention seeking. They are not purposely trying to hurt the people in their life. They are saying in the only way they can they are drowning and they need a lifeboat. And it is hard on everyone involved. Having...

Keep Reading

Chrissy Teigen Announces She’s Pregnant With Rainbow Baby

In: Living, News
Chrissy Teigen pregnant

Hip, hip, hooray! “1 billion shots later . . . we have another on the way.” In a surprising, but much anticipated Instagram post, Chrissy Teigen delivered the exciting news: she and celebrity musician husband John Legend are officially expecting their third baby! Endeared to millions through her genuine and unfiltered approach to sharing her life on social media, Chrissy’s announcement was quickly met with an outpouring of love and support from fans, many of whom had been following since the model shared the absolutely devastating loss of her third pregnancy back in 2020. RELATED: Chrissy Teigen Opens Up About Her...

Keep Reading

Meeting the One Who Says “I Believe in You” Changes Everything

In: Living
Man and woman hold hands

“I want to major in journalism. I love writing. I want to be an author,” I said. “You can’t do that,” you said. “You’ll never make any money writing. You have to change your major,” you said. I heard the sad, sorrowful flutter of wings of a caged bird. And then silence.  Year after year, I allowed you to belittle me, to make me feel ashamed, and to see myself as unintelligent and worthless. When I was small, you felt big. I didn’t know any better because you were supposed to be a safe person. Unconditional love and support? Only...

Keep Reading

It’s Lonely Feeling Invisible

In: Friendship, Living
Woman standing in kitchen

I’ve never known what’s wrong with me. From such a young age, I’ve never had friends. I was never the girl who was invited to the birthday parties let alone the sleepover after the birthday party.  Now as an adult, I’m not the girl invited for drinks, moms’ nights out, play dates, or even to listen to a pyramid scheme.  RELATED: It’s Lonely Being the B-List Friend I’m not the coworker everyone loves. Or the classmate everyone envies because of her skill. I’m not making waves anywhere I go.  Not even with my own family. No aunt, uncle, cousin, or...

Keep Reading

I Left a Piece of My Heart in Room 208

In: Living, Motherhood
Classroom of empty desks, color photo

I walked down the hall, past the rows of bright orange lockers. Past the U.S. history classroom and the eighth-grade science room.  The next door was mine. Room 208. As I slipped the key into the lock, I noted the “Bring it on” poster my students fist bump on the way into the room (a fun class routine we started a few years ago). Without thinking, I softly kicked the door open as I turned the knob, knowing the door sticks when it’s hot. I walked inside, scanning the room, taking in objects that have been a part of my...

Keep Reading

They Just Played Dolls: Making Foster Children Feel Welcome

In: Living, Motherhood
Man and girl play dolls on the floor

“Mom,” my daughter whined, “I give up. I can’t do this anymore. She is driving me crazy.” I knew the feeling. It was a familiar one. We were doing a few days of respite care for a girl half our daughter’s age—seven years old—the same age my daughter was when she came to us as a foster child herself. My daughter, now 13, has grown so much in the past six years. When I asked for her help with this foster child, she was eager to take on the responsibility, but it quickly proved a trying task. “Mom, she’s just...

Keep Reading

But God is Still Good

In: Faith, Living
Woman looking out window

“I can’t afford a new one,” I thought to myself as I shampooed another stain. This can’t keep happening. Maybe I made a mistake. I have to make this last. And the couch. And the clothes. And all the things. We are done having babies. The price of food has doubled. It’s astronomical to fill the cars with gas. Things are closing in on me. How can I best serve my family? Survival mode engaged. When I read the news, when I follow the headlines, when I listen to the conversations around me . . .  I hear fear. Loss....

Keep Reading

I’m the New Mom at the Park

In: Friendship, Living, Motherhood
Mother and baby on blanket at park, color photo

I’m the new mom at the park. I woke up this morning with a goal in mind: to visit the park with my daughter. I looked in the mirror and whispered, “I’ve got this” as my 3-month-old slept peacefully. This little house has been a great shelter for this new mom and her baby, but it’s time to venture out.  I’m the new mom at the park. With the stroller filled with way too many things for a 30-minute trip. With the perfectly picked out outfit, hoping to fit in. With the tired eyes and dark circles from waking up...

Keep Reading

Dear Body, I’m Sorry I Haven’t Treated You Well

In: Living, Motherhood
Woman in hot tub looking out window

Dear body, I’m sorry I haven’t treated you well. After everything you’ve done for me, you would think I’d be a bit more grateful. From running and playing as a child to being on the track team in high school, to carrying three babies, conquering cancer, and more—I should be thanking you. But instead, I’m mostly ashamed of you. I’m embarrassed to try on new clothes in a fitting room because I honestly don’t know what size I am anymore. Having to ask for a larger size of something is a kind of torture I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Trying...

Keep Reading