She’s always been there. 

To feel my kicks as I grew in her womb. Taking up space and residence in her body, my heartbeat and hers intertwined in that sacred space. 

To sing me lullabies, hold me close, and wipe away my tears. 

She’s always been there. 

To nurse me in the middle of the night, when all of the world was asleepexcept for the mothers who wake, groggy and heavy-lidded, to care for their new baby’s needs. 

To teach me life lessons, both great and small.

Like the importance of kindness, and that if you don’t have something nice to say, you really shouldn’t be saying anything at all. 

She’s always been there. 

To teach me right from wrong. To help me up after falling down. To bandage my boo-boos, dry my eyes, and encourage me to get up and keep trying.

RELATED: I Used to Wonder Why My Mom Was so Tired Every Morning; Now I Understand

To comfort my hurting and broken heart after my dad moved out. And to become my punching bag when my world felt like it was crumbling, and she was the safest place for my angry words and sobs to land. 

She’s always been there. 

To give me the boundaries and space I needed to explore. But never so much I couldn’t find my way back again. 

To listen to me scream and yell as I ran down the hall and slammed the door, filled with teenage angst. 

She’s always been there.  

To show me what it looks like to forgive. And what it means for a broken heart to mend as she fell in love with my stepdad and said “I do” again. 

To cheer me on. To lift me up. To celebrate my successes. And comfort me in times of grief and heartache. 

She’s always been there. 

To help me pack up my belongings and watch as the items went one by one from shelves into boxes. To set up my dorm in college. And to wave goodbye and drive away as the tears streamed down both of our cheeks. 

To watch me grow. And to set me free. 

She’s always been there. 

RELATED: I’m So Lucky To Call My Mom My Best Friend

To model what it looks like to care for an aging parent. To love my grandma in her time of grief after my grandpa died. To pack up her belongings and bring her into our home to live. Watching her as her health deteriorated from cancer and staying by her side until her final breath. 

To help plan my wedding after I said yes, and shed tears of joy when I said “I do” to my very best friend. And loving him from that moment on as if he were her own. 

She’s always been there. 

To put her hand on my stretching and growing belly and feel the squirms and kicks of her grandchildren. Just as I had once kicked her. 

To love her grandchildren with all of her heart. To read them stories and sing them songs. To bring them candy and cheer them on in all they do. To be there for them as they learn and grow.

She’s always been there. 

RELATED: Everything I Need To Know About Motherhood I Learned From My Mom

To guide me. To comfort me. To teach me. To encourage me. To remind me of what’s important. And of what is not worth thinking about anymore. 

To hug me. And hold me. The first person to feel me. To know me on this earth. To love me in the special way that is reserved for her and her alone. 

She’s my mom. 

And she’s always been there.

Previously published on the author’s Facebook page

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Jennifer Thompson

Jennifer Thompson is a freelance writer, preschool art teacher and mother of four with a heart for Jesus. Her work can be found on a number of blogs and parenting publications. Recently relocated from Indianapolis to Nashville, Tennessee. She is a passionate storyteller and believes every person has an important story to tell. We grow when we share. And even more when we listen.  

When the Grandparents Are Still Working, Your Support System Looks Different

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Child kissing grandma on cheek

I had my kids in my 20s, and yes it was hard, but probably not for the reason you think. People discourage you from having kids young because it could jeopardize your career, keep you from traveling, or eat into your savings, etc. For me, my kids are my world, and I don’t think I jeopardized anything by having them. They can travel with my husband and me. My savings account isn’t as cushioned as it was before I had my kids, but that doesn’t matter to me. The most difficult thing about having kids in my 20s is not having...

Keep Reading

Dear Dad, I Pray for Our Healing

In: Faith, Grief, Grown Children
Back shot of woman on bench alone

You are on my mind today. But that’s not unusual. It’s crazy how after 13 years, it doesn’t feel that long since I last saw you. It’s also crazy that I spend far less time thinking about that final day and how awful it was and spend the majority of the time replaying the good memories from all the years before it. But even in the comfort of remembering, I know I made the right decision. Even now, 13 years later, the mix of happy times with the most confusing and painful moments leaves me grasping for answers I have...

Keep Reading

Mom’s Special Recipe Means More This Year

In: Grown Children, Living
Bowl full of breadcrumbs and celery, color photo

Three weeks before Easter, my family and I stood in the hallway talking to a team of doctors whom we had flagged down. We were anxiously inquiring about my mom, who was in the ICU on life support. We hadn’t been able to connect with the doctors for over 48 hours, so it was important for us to check in and see what was going on. The head doctor began discussing everything they had observed in the scans and what it meant for my mom’s quality of life. Every word made our hearts break. The doctor continued to talk about...

Keep Reading

When Your Son Grows Up, You Will Remember This

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mother and son posing in older portrait, color photo

When your son turns 50, you will remember how, when he was a baby, he would kick the arm of the rocking chair just when you thought he was finally asleep and wake himself up for another 15 minutes of grinning and rocking. And you will smile at the memory. When your son turns 50, you will remember the endless walks through the neighborhood you took with him rain or shine because your husband had the only car for the family at work. You always visited the little wooden bridge that ran across a tiny stream, and he would jump...

Keep Reading

I’m So Lucky to Have Parents Like Mine

In: Grown Children, Living, Motherhood
Husband and wife, smiling, color photo

I was reminded recently that not everyone has parents like mine. I’ve always known it in theory, but seeing it around me is different. Getting to know and love people from different kinds of homes is eye-opening, and it made me realize something . . . I’m so lucky to have parents like mine. So, here’s to the parents who show up. The ones who work full time but still manage to make it to seemingly all your school functions, church outings, and sporting events. Here’s to the parents who took the time to sit down to dinner with you...

Keep Reading

In These Teen Years, I Wonder If I’m Doing Enough

In: Grown Children, Motherhood, Teen
Boy walking in the ocean surf

It’s a strange feeling to look back at all the years as a parent and wonder if I am doing enough. My boys are teens. One of them has just a few baby steps left until he heads into life after living under our roof. He is fiercely independent. One of those kids who I have for my whole life mistaken for being years older than he actually is. The kind of kid who can hold a conversation that reminds you of when you are out with your friends enjoying a bottle of wine at a restaurant made for middle-aged...

Keep Reading

18 Years Went by In a Flash

In: Grown Children, Motherhood, Teen
Girl walking into college dorm

If I close my eyes, I can conjure the feather-light weight of my newborn daughter. At under five pounds, my tiny bundle of love looked up at me with eyes so big and bright I swore they could discern my soul. No one warned me then of the chaotic parenthood journey ahead. So many firsts and lasts would pepper our paths. Her first word, steps, and school day flew by amongst a whirlwind of activities designed to keep us both occupied—park play dates, music classes, and mom and baby yoga occupied much of our early days. I recorded everything in...

Keep Reading

The Sandwich Generation Needs Support Too

In: Grown Children, Living, Motherhood
Grandma and grandpa with baby, color photo

Caregiver. Nurse. Custodian. Mother. Parent. Daughter. Son. Rinse, lather, repeat. If you had told me 10 years ago (heck, even 6 years ago) that I would quit working, care for my babies, and provide care for my parents on a daily basis, I would have laughed you out of the room. I remember how hard it was to go back to work after I had my son, commuting 45 minutes each way. I remember calling home during lunch (my husband was able to stay home after my maternity leave had ended) and yearning to see my baby boy. My new...

Keep Reading

Moms Know the Small Things Matter

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mother playing blocks with young girl

I have always given credit to my dad for letting me find my path in life, for making me independent, fearless, confident, and everything I am today. It was he who taught me to drive a car even when my mom thought I was too young. He let me be reckless till I figured out exactly what I was doing. He even taught me to fix a puncture so I always get where I ought to. Wasn’t Dad the one who encouraged me to choose the university of my choice and find an apartment far away from home? He wanted...

Keep Reading

The Lucky Ones Know the Love of a Grandma

In: Grief, Grown Children, Loss
Wedding photo of woman with her grandma, color photo

Not so many years ago, my grandma passed away. She was my last grandparent, and when she died, it hit me like a ton of bricks. She was a force: a strong, independent, opinionated bundle of life—all wrapped up into a tiny frame of skin and bones. She rocked a solid Bob Dylan haircut, loved classical music, opera, and theater, and knew how to hold her own with my sisters and me and a bottle of good red wine on Thanksgiving. My grandma had frail, bony hands that had touched the earth of every continent short of Antarctica. She had...

Keep Reading