A Gift for Mom! 🤍

You will never look into the eyes of someone who God doesn’t love.

Absolutely never.

Regardless of who you vote for, what faith you hold dear, or how you choose to raise your kids, people are people are people.

In this mess of a year we find ourselves in, it seems that basic kindergarten skill is something we’ve forgotten.

As I scroll my phone, watching people throw crap at each other on the daily regarding where they stand on masks, the election, and how they’re choosing to school their kids makes me sad for humanity.

That our two presidential candidates needed a mute button to even hear the other person out just puts magnifies the point. 

The late Mother Teresa embodied loving the unlovable and listening to the forgotten in such a beautifully inspiring way vis-a-vis what we’re currently seeing bombard our news feeds. 

She truly saw good in each and every person she encountered. Each and every one. Regardless of what illness they had, how poor they were, or what higher power they believed in, she served. She prayed. She loved with everything she had.

Rather than backing away from differences, she found them.

Rather than walking away from pain, she asked, “How can I help?”

What kind of difference would living like that make?

Admittedly I’m a work-in-progress here (aren’t we all?), but she laid down some beautiful truth that struck me as a prayer for this increasingly divided time we find ourselves in:

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.

When social media rages about how to parent/travel/literally do anything, Father remind me so many people are just trying to stay above water right now.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.

When I feel my hosting skills feel struggling (frozen pizza for all!), remind me offering an invitation for fellowship always trumps a messy house and subpar meal.

If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.

When I see a new mom in the trenches, remind me how hard that stage was and support her in any way I can.

If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.

When I share what’s on my heart, help me not armor up if (and when) people back away.

What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.

If time changes my strongest relationships, help me continue to reach out and check-in.

If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.

When I’m walking through a blessed season, help me lay down striving for the next one and be present to and thankful for where I’m at.

The good you do today will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.

When I long for feedback as a stay-at-home parent, help me continue to love my kids in little, unseen ways with joy.

Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.

When I don’t feel skinny, pretty, talented, or successful enough, remind me my worth only comes from being yours.

In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.” 

Thanks be to God.

What if we stopped letting other people’s opinions or differences make us feel we have to get the last word in; make us question our worth? 

What if instead of drawing lines in the sand we showered mercy and kindness, sincerity and grit, goodness and joy to each and every person we encountered?

When we feel misunderstood or judged, lonely or betrayed, taken advantage of or unseen, failing or unsuccessful, Father remind us we were not made for this world but were made for you.

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!

Ashley Stevens

Ashley Stevens is a speaker, writer, wife, and mother of three. While serving as a campus missionary shortly after getting engaged, she was T-boned by a Mack truck and nearly lost her life. They got married on the one-year anniversary of the accident to redeem the day and she writes to encourage those whose life isn't going according to plan at www.mountainsunmoved.com.

I Never Got to Meet My Grandmother on This Side of Heaven

In: Living
Old black and white family photo

Grandmother, I never met you this side of Heaven, but I feel as though I have. Your pictures, scattered throughout my mother’s home, tell your story. Born to a woman who came to this country alone when she was just 16, you would be the youngest of four, with two sisters and a brother. Your short, dark, straight hair clings to your little face, a line of bangs neatly combed high on your forehead. You couldn’t be more than three years old as you sit on a stool at your sister’s First Holy Communion. The black and white photo makes...

Keep Reading

The Hardest Part of Divorce Is Being Away from My Kids

In: Living, Marriage, Motherhood
Woman in driver's seat

I’ve written several times about how divorce has allowed me to find myself again, and how that version is even better than the one I was before I was married. All of that is still true. I am happier than I’ve ever been. More confident and sure of myself. I understand my emotions and how to handle myself when things get tough or scary. I am more grounded and calm than I’ve ever been. Truly, I have come out on top. I’ve received comments about how happy I look, how I’m “living my best life with kids only half the...

Keep Reading

My Dad Gave Us Something Money Never Could

In: Living
Family smiling in posed photo

I was talking with my dad the other day about an upcoming Disney trip with our kids. I told him all we planned to do while we were there and how excited the kids were. He sat and listened, taking it all in. And then he said something that put a lump in my throat. “I’m so glad you’re able to give your kids the life that I couldn’t.” He went on to say he still carries some guilt–that he wishes he could have done more, taken us on trips, given us experiences he couldn’t. Hearing that broke my heart....

Keep Reading

Dear Daddy, I Wish You Could See Yourself As We Do

In: Living, Marriage
father with two young children

The side of my husband who is hardest on himself usually shows up late at night. The house is quiet, the kids are finally asleep, and the day has done what it always does—taken everything it could from both of us. That’s usually when it comes out. The voice in his head that tells him he’s not doing enough as a father. Not present enough. Not patient enough. Not good enough. He doesn’t say it lightly. He says it like someone confessing a truth he wishes wasn’t true. Like he’s already measured himself against some invisible standard of fatherhood and...

Keep Reading

Mothers and Stepmothers: Who’s on First?

In: Living
Little girl looking through fingers

The roles. The expectations. The unspoken, undefined rules. The hurt feelings no one wants to talk about. It could be a scene from an old Abbott and Costello routine: “Who’s on first?” Motherhood is rarely clear-cut. And if you’ve ever tried to navigate life alongside a stepmother—or as one—you know how quickly things can become complicated. Add a stepmother to the mix, and suddenly it’s a relay race where no one’s quite sure who’s holding the baton, or if anyone wants it. This isn’t a story about winners and losers or choosing sides. It isn’t about who is right or...

Keep Reading

Do We Really Want a ’90s Summer?

In: Living
Girl holding popsicle

The year is 2026: we’re inviting thousands of strangers to get ready with us, threatening our own deaths on a lot of different hills and, if you’re a millennial mom, determined to have a ’90s summer. Some top to-dos on the ’90s mom summer checklist? Lots of outside play, limited screens, less hustle, more simplicity. Overall, evoking the “carefree” summers of the 1990s. But did anyone ever ask the real ‘90s moms if summers back then were all we’re cracking them up to be? If my own memory serves me right, my parents talked a whole lot about summers in...

Keep Reading

To the Woman Who Was Betrayed

In: Living, Marriage
Woman looking off to the fog

He promised you a lifetime, a family, safety, and security. You carried life and brought it into this world for him. Even still, in the trenches of postpartum, he betrayed you. It was never your fault. This is something I’ve fought to tell myself every single day since the day I discovered my marriage was never meant to last. Because the truth is, betrayal is never about you; it’s about them, and the character flaws deep within they’d rather bury than face. He watched as you fought for your life after delivery while your tiny, premature newborn spent the first...

Keep Reading

5 Things I’m Learning about 50

In: Living
birthday balloons

When my dad turned 80, he—and we, by default—celebrated all year. My sister made a fantastic, larger-than-life sign of him posing in front of his friend’s antique car, with beautiful calligraphy that trumpeted, “Cheers to you, celebrating 80 years of life!” The sign welcomed his closest friends and family into a private room at a steakhouse, where we toasted his 80 years—and the grandkids toasted his steady presence in their lives. The sign moved from the swanky steakhouse to the second-floor banister in my parents’ house. When you walked in, it greeted you—a feel-good conversation starter and a reminder to...

Keep Reading

I’m Constantly Waiting for the Metaphorical Axe To Fall

In: Living
Woman worried with head in lap

I knew people died. I just didn’t think it applied to us. Mortality met me in grade two with a punch to the gut when my teacher confirmed casually that, yes, everybody dies. What do you mean, everybody dies? I frantically thought, but kept my question to myself. Up until that moment, I had quietly believed my family was exempt from that fate. I thought death was a monster that only took other people and left my family alone. They say all panic has an origin story, and mine began shortly after that realization, fueled by a disconnected phone cord...

Keep Reading

The Apology You Deserve May Never Come

In: Living
Woman standing in field wearing hat

“You have to accept that you will likely never get the apology you deserve.” When my therapist said those words, I felt everything at once-anger, resentment, heartbreak. It was as if the air had been pulled straight from my lungs. Because accepting that truth meant letting go of something I had been holding onto for a long time: the hope that one day, it would all be acknowledged. My family was deeply wronged. Not in a way that can be brushed off or easily forgotten, but in a way that cut to the core. There were lies wrapped in deception,...

Keep Reading