Free shipping on all orders over $75🎄

It was 30 minutes before the wedding ceremony and I could hear the band playing softly in the background. You came in the bridal suite and took my hands in yours, tears spilling down both of our faces. You whispered to me how beautiful I looked and called me your little girl. You told me how many years you had been praying for someone like me to come along. How many years you prayed your son would marry someone like me. It was the mother-daughter moment I always dreamed of having on my wedding day, the one I never thought I would have.

From the moment I started dating your son, you called me daughter. I was never a daughter-in-law to you. You loved me as if you were the one who had given birth to me. When I needed someone to talk to, you were always there to offer a word of encouragement and you never thought listening to me was a burden or obligation. You listened because you cared for me. You never spent time with me because you felt like you had to, you simply enjoyed being around me.

You called me daughter because that’s just who you are. Your heart is full of love for other people. When you called me daughter, you didn’t know how much it meant to me. You couldn’t possibly have known how much healing you brought to my heart, or how you were a part of God fulfilling a promise He gave me years ago.

You didn’t know that when I prayed for my future husband, I prayed he would have a mom like you. You couldn’t possibly have known just how much I needed you. You just did it because that’s the kind of amazing woman you are.

Even though there was damage you couldn’t mend and heartache you couldn’t fix, you fulfilled the longing I had my entire life: to have a mother who loved me and wanted the best for me. For a mother who would love my children. For a mother who would tell me she was proud of me. I don’t know exactly why my biological mother didn’t have those qualities and I’m sure I never will, but if there’s one thing I know about God, I know that He is good. I knew I wasn’t at the end of the story yet.

Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and tell my 5-year-old self to have courage. I wish I could tell her to hold on to hope because things will get better, so much better, one day. I wish I could tell her one day she would have a mom who loved her for who she was. But even though I can’t go back in time, when I met you, that 5-year-old girl was still inside me somewhere. Thank you for giving her the love she needed and thank you for giving me the love I needed, too.

You may also like:

To My Mother-in-Law: The Little Boy of Your Dreams Became Mine, Too

To My Mother-in-Law: Thank You For Being More Than I Ever Expected You To Be

It’s Hard Being a Mom Without My Own Mother’s Guidance

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

Amy Williams

Amy is a freelance writer who believes in the life-giving power of the written word. With a bachelor's degree in English and endless notebooks to fill, she writes about marriage, motherhood, and the faith that keeps her going each day. When she's not chasing her children around, she's either reading or writing, most likely while drinking an enormous cup of coffee.

Winter Gloves and Other Trauma

In: Living, Motherhood
Snowflakes flying from mitten covered hands

As I stood in the middle of a bustling English high street, trying to help my screaming 7-year-old daughter fit her fingers into her new winter gloves, I realized that this scene perfectly captured the sense of trauma that each one of us was carrying. England was my country. The land where I grew up. Winter gloves were a normal part of my childhood, along with snow, frost, and rainy days. The fact that my daughter had reached the age of seven without ever needing gloves just highlighted the point that she was not at home here. As I looked...

Keep Reading

Sometimes in Life, You Just Really Need a Win

In: Living, Motherhood
Youth basketball game, color photo

These past few weeks have hit my family hard in a variety of ways. My marriage is going through a difficult season. My oldest son has encountered some trouble at school and at home. I fell off a bike and broke my elbow (true disclosure, it was a double fracture, but it hurt like a break)! It has literally been one thing after another for several weeks on end. I am weary, I am worn, I feel like life is beating me up a bit. However, tonight at my son’s seventh-grade basketball game, the two teams were playing neck in...

Keep Reading

The Room that Built Me

In: Living, Teen
Old photo of teen bedroom covered in posters, color photo

Before Pinterest, before social media, before anybody cared, my room during high school in the early 2000s was decorated with magazines taped all over the walls. It proudly displayed gaudy wallpaper, an out-of-place blanket, and random trinkets. None of the furniture matched, and it didn’t matter. It was home to pictures taken by my trusty disposable Kodak camera, printed promptly at the local K-Mart of course. A big radio took up all the space my dresser would allow, and a neon green cordless phone found its home on the floor next to my bed. RELATED: Ahem, Your Favorite 90s Shoes...

Keep Reading

Hey Friend, Meet Me in the Mess

In: Friendship, Living
Friends smiling

If you come to our home, you’ll likely see a basket of folded or unfolded laundry waiting to be put away. You may even see a pile of dirty clothes hanging out by the washer. If you come to our home, you’ll likely find spitty bits in the sink from where little kids brushed their teeth in a hurry and forgot to rinse. Despite my best efforts, they always seem to find their way back. If you come to our home, there’s a 50-50 chance the beds will be made. If they were made, there’s a high chance they were...

Keep Reading

God Calls Me Flawless

In: Faith, Living
Note hanging on door, color photo

When I look in the mirror, I don’t always like what I see. I tend to focus on every imperfection, every flaw. As I age, more wrinkles naturally appear. And I’ve never been high maintenance, so the gray hairs are becoming more frequent, too. Growing up a lot of negative words were spoken about me: my body, my weight, my hair, my build. Words I’ve somehow carried my whole life. The people who proclaimed them as my truth don’t even remember what they said, I’m sure. But that’s the power of negative words. Sticks and stones may break our bones,...

Keep Reading

I’m Afraid of Going to the Dentist

In: Living
Woman sitting in dental chair looking nervous

I never used to have a fear of the dentist. Growing up as a child who struggled with sensory issues and hated brushing my teeth, combined with struggles with food and not eating very healthy, I often had cavities and needed trips to the dentist to fix them. So trips to the dentist were just common for me, and I got used to it. By the time I was a teenager and needed braces, those trips only got more frequent. Did I enjoy the dentist? No, not really. But I never had any anxieties about it until five years ago. It started...

Keep Reading

She is an Anonymom

In: Living, Motherhood
Mother standing at sink holding a baby on her hip

She stands alone in the church kitchen, frantically scrubbing pots and pans while the grieving huddle around the fellowship hall, and she slips out the back door before anyone comes in. She is an anonymom. She gets out of her car and picks up the trash thrown into the ditch alongside the country road. She is an anonymom. She sits on the park bench, watching her children play. In the meantime, she continually scans the whole playground, keeping track of everyone’s littles, because that is what moms do. She is an anonymom. RELATED: Can We Restore “the Village” Our Parents...

Keep Reading

Your Husband Needs Friendship Too

In: Faith, Friendship, Marriage
3 men smiling outside

As the clock inches closer to 7:00 on a Monday evening, I pull out whatever dessert I had prepared that week and set it out on the kitchen counter. This particular week it’s a trifle, but other weeks it may be brownies, pound cake, or cookies of some kind. My eyes do one last sweep to make sure there isn’t a tripping hazard disguised as a dog toy on the floor and that the leftover dinner is put away. Then, my kids and I make ourselves scarce. Sometimes that involves library runs or gym visits, but it mostly looks like...

Keep Reading

Memories are What Matter—Watch the Chevy Holiday Ad Making Us Cry

In: Living
Chevy holiday ad

I don’t know about you, but the older I get the more I find that this time of year feels fragile. I love the holidays, don’t get me wrong. But these days I recognize a comingling of joy and sadness that envelopes so many during this season. It’s a giant heap of emotion as we sort through the good, the bad, the happy, and the sad of the past year and try to make sense of where we are right here, right now, in this moment of time. So when I saw Chevrolet’s new seasonal ad last night, I was...

Keep Reading

This Is Why Moms Ask for Experience Gifts

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Mother and young daughter under Christmas lights wearing red sweaters

When a mama asks for experience gifts for her kids for Christmas, please don’t take it as she’s ungrateful or a Scrooge. She appreciates the love her children get, she really does. But she’s tired. She’s tired of the endless number of toys that sit in the bottom of a toy bin and never see the light of day. She’s tired of tripping over the hundreds of LEGOs and reminding her son to pick them up so the baby doesn’t find them and choke. She’s tired of having four Elsa dolls (we have baby Elsa, Barbie Elsa, a mini Elsa,...

Keep Reading