So God Made a Mother Collection ➔

Dear husband,

When I sat down to write this and stared at the blank page, my thoughts reached back to the memories of that sun-drenched September afternoon when we met.

On that day, our eyes didn’t meet but our hearts did. And that moment—a blink on the screen and a 10-minute chat—changed my life.

I thought about our relationship, from the computer screen to the phone. The six months it took for me to even send you a picture of myself, and the year we spent getting to know each other before meeting in person.

We took things slowly, but the connection was strong. I knew you were meant to be in my life.

I thought of the letters we wrote back then, exposing ourselves layer by layer on the page. Letters that took us (or at least me) all day to write.

Through the years I’ve told our story through letters, blog posts, and in the pages of my journal. There are chapters filled with the meet-cute, the soul-shattering grief over the loss of your son Ryan that nearly destroyed us, and the rediscovery of each other after almost losing us.

On those stacks of envelopes and inked memories and moments, the rock-solid foundation of our now decade-old marriage was built.

But I’ve never told you the most important thing you coming into my life did.

Before I met you, I wasn’t sure anyone could ever truly love me, no matter what, forever. Everyone I’d ever loved—left. Or so I felt. I’m sure that goes back to losing my dad when I was only five.

I could dig up all of those bones for you—the good and bad that made me, me—but you already know.

Before you, all of my relationships had walls, including my relationship with Jesus.

I loved Him, but I spent a lot of time expecting Him to change His mind about me if He hadn’t already.

Then I met you.

In the past when I’ve written “true love” in our story, I meant it in the mushy, lovey-dovey way.

But not today.

Today, the words true love are different, deeper.

For 3,650 days you’ve shown up and shown yourself to be true.

No matter what.

Loving me that way is not an easy thing—I know. Since our relationship began, I’ve done some pretty boneheaded things.

Sometimes, I’m still that little girl afraid of losing those I love. So I hide—afraid of rejection.

But you pursue me. You call me out of my hiding place and into your arms.

You know all of my shortcomings and accept them.

You love me.

Unconditionally.

What I want you to know is your love in my life helped me accept God’s love for me.

Before you, I didn’t dare look back. But with you by my side, I was brave enough to open those buried vaults filled with unresolved grief. Having you beside me gave me the courage to look inside the dark spaces.

And God met me there, walking me out of the pain and into His light. Now past hurts no longer have a hold on me, and I’m free to love and be loved. Truly. Forever.

In this milestone year, I’ve been looking back, remembering—the joy, the grief, the wins, and the losses—and there isn’t a moment where I ever found myself standing alone.

Thank you for being willing to take the journey with me, my love.

There’s a quote from Jonas Clark that reads: “Divine appointments are meetings arranged by the Holy Spirit with people that have something in them that you need in you.” 

I know God gave me a divine appointment that September day. He sent you where you were needed.

This isn’t just a love story, it’s a life (changing) story. And it’s ours.

Thank you for being mine! And for loving me the way you were destined to from the moment you lit up my screen.

You may also like: 

Dear Husband, I Am With You Even When It’s Hard

My Husband and I Have a Super Traditional Marriage – Here’s Why It Works

I Know My Husband is the Man God Chose For Me

Amy Catlin Wozniak

Amy Catlin Wozniak was raised in Nebraska—go Huskers—and now lives in Northeast Ohio. There she shares her life with her soul mate, four children, two grandsons, and a Great Pyrenees named Scarlett O’Hara, who has absolutely no problem living up to her namesake. She enjoys reading, writing, and sharing stories that reflect God's hope. You can find her on Twitter @echoinghearts or her blog [email protected] 

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

Separating Work From Home is a Must For Me

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mom with baby smiling

If I close my eyes and let myself, I can still see the 11-year-old boy with his pale feet sticking out from under the blanket, on his way to the morgue after a gun accident.   If I close my eyes and let myself, I can still see the still, blue form of the 3-month-old who passed away in his sleep. We gave CPR and all the medicines “just in case,” but that baby was gone long before his caregiver brought him in through the door. If I close my eyes and let myself, I can still see the 3-year-old...

Keep Reading

When Teens Are Hard to Love, You Love Them Harder

In: Faith, Motherhood, Teen
Teen boy sitting with hood up

I lay face down on the floor, praying. Praying in the loosest sense of the word. Praying in the Romans 8:26 way—you know, when the Spirit “intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” Because I could not utter any actual coherent thoughts at that point. I was weary and beaten down. Day after day I had been in combat, battling an opponent I didn’t anticipate: one of my children. My own child, one of the people I had lovingly grown inside my body and loved sacrificially for all these years, had staunchly and repeatedly put himself in opposition...

Keep Reading

In This Stage of Marriage, it Feels Like We’re Roommates Who Share the Same Kids

In: Faith, Marriage
Distant couple on phones in bed

How do you get it back? How do you get back the love you once had? Everyone told me marriage was hard and having kids was hard, but I had no idea it would be this hard. I thought everyone was lying because our relationship was solid before marriage. We were best friends. Some days I feel like we’re roommates who share the same kids. It disgusts me even to say that, but it’s the truth. Marriage is hard and has ugly sides to it that everyone seems afraid to talk about. RELATED: Keep Showing Up Even When Marriage is...

Keep Reading

You Are the God of Details, but God These Details Don’t Make Sense

In: Faith, Grief, Loss
Window open with shutters

That was not the plan. What just happened in there? We walked out a bit defeated. More than a bit. I felt deflated. Things were supposed to be different by now. This wasn’t what I asked for or expected. This wasn’t even what they told me would happen. We cross the street in silence. Headed to the car and as soon as I shut the car door, I could no longer hold it in. I let the tears flow. All this unknown. I don’t understand. This is life. This is foster care. This is what we chose. That doesn’t make...

Keep Reading

I Am a Good Enough Mom

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother kissing toddler

I came to motherhood knowing nothing about the job. My mother’s example wasn’t an example at all, more of something to forget, and maybe even get therapy for. My own son was the first newborn I’d ever held. When I became a mom, I was 23 and clueless.  Because of my personality, I wanted to do everything right and parenthood was no exception. I read all the books on parenting I could. I talked to older moms and soaked up all the advice they gave me. Having no idea what I was doing made me look to outside sources to inform...

Keep Reading

God’s Plan For Me Wasn’t What I Expected

In: Faith, Motherhood
Woman walking with children silhouette

I grew up in a family where we knew who God was. We went to church, and we were involved in church. However, when we weren’t at church, time spent in the Word fell to the wayside. Don’t get me wrong, my parents were wonderful people, but we didn’t make that a priority in my house.  Going into adulthood, I realized I had deceived myself into believing I had a relationship with God. I knew God loved me, but I questioned whether I loved Him. I wasn’t living life in a way that was glorifying to Him. I’m not only...

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

Jesus Helps Me Smile Through the Weary Moments of Motherhood

In: Faith, Motherhood
Woman holding toddler girl, color photo

“Mom, why aren’t you smiling?” My 4-year-old took one look at my face, and like an open book, she could read me. Sometimes I wish I could hide it better, tucked behind an infinite smile or a pasted-on happy face. Sometimes I wish my beautiful children—so young, free, and fun—wouldn’t see my face on a day like today. RELATED: Motherhood is Hard, But Loving You is the Easiest Thing I’ve Ever Done You see, it’s just so hard—all of it. And I am just so tired. Between working a job, trying to keep up with being a supportive wife and...

Keep Reading

The Guilt of an Angry Mother Meets Grace

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother and son hug at home

“No one’s perfect,” I think. I’m mopping up my overspilled anger like the remnants of an erupted chocolate volcano that hit the kitchen floor.  It was the last bucking whine of “I don’t want chocolate in my milk” that did it. The culmination of about one million “I want chocolate in my milk”s ended with a sticky muddy river of it from highchair to floor.  After reasoning with my toddler, which never works well, I gave in to his adamant refusal of white milk for a chocolatey exchange. He responded to my surrender like a 2-year-old. He revolted. Little feet...

Keep Reading