A Gift for Mom! 🤍

Parenthood is a Sanctification Process That Sometimes Looks Like Sandwich Crusts

5 Minute Read

By Jessika Sanders

Sandwich crusts on a paper plate — Image via Jessika Sanders

“Parenthood is a sanctification process.”

I understood the words in isolation, yet the phrase was rendering me speechless.

I read the words and felt an inexplicable stirring in my soul. These words were profound, so profound that I hadn’t yet begun to fathom their enormity. My mind stuck a figurative pin in them as something I’d have to really unpack and revisit later. I just couldn’t wrap my head around them at that moment.

Days passed, maybe even a week. It was 10:30 p.m. All homework had been completed. The kids had been fed. School lunches had been made. The kitchen had been cleaned. And the kids were finally sleeping soundly in bed with only a few unexpected interruptions.

I collapsed on the couch, ready to relax next to my husband with a small snack in hand. And as I looked down at the snack, I smiled and giggled to myself.

This. This was it. This was the moment. Remove the figurative pin. We were unpacking it, and we were unpacking it now.

There, right in the middle of the mundane, in the middle of the everyday tasks, I recognized the moment for what it was—a visual of the sanctification process of parenthood.

This snack, this sorry excuse for a sandwich, was just the example I needed to illustrate the concept that had previously left me so puzzled.

In my hand, was a plate full of scraps. Literal scraps. A paper plate decorated with a mound of discarded crusts and the messy, oozing remnants. The discarded crusts and remnants were the remains of the eight bite-sized, flower-shaped sunbutter and jelly sandwiches I had made for my daughter’s school lunch. These scraps, something I had considered discarding altogether, comprised my late-night snack.

I had lovingly gone above and beyond to make such ornate sandwich bites for her lunch, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. Yes, I was tired. Yes, it would have been easier to just plop the ingredients on two pieces of bread and haphazardly slap them together and be done with it. But knowing the sheer delight it would bring her to find such hidden treasures in her lunchbox warmed my heart and gave me just the push I needed to complete the small act of love.

RELATED: Mama, the Work You Do Behind Closed Doors Matters More Than You Know

So here I was, being shown evidence of my sanctification process. God was showing me just one way in which He is working to shape my heart to mirror His. And tonight, He was choosing to show me with some sorry-looking sandwich scraps. I laugh even while writing this as I marvel at how the Creator of the universe can take the time to meet me in the middle of my ordinary and so intimately work to bring things down to my level of understanding.

So, over my plate full of scraps, without saying a word, He spoke to my heart. He revealed all that He sees in me all that I seem to overlook within myself. He explained my sanctification process in terms I understood:

As a mother, each day I watch you die to yourself.

I watch you humbly put your children before yourself.

Like this week when they looked at you with their big eyes, silently begging for the last cookie you were about to sink your teeth into. Without saying a word, you broke it apart and shared it with them—just as I, without question, willingly give of Myself to you. Your actions mirrored mine.

I watch you continuously extend grace and mercy.

Like the other day when the youngest hit her sister and cried out in anguish during her timeout. You got down to her level, held her, and hugged her. You didn’t condemn her. You spoke to her lovingly and corrected her—just as I, time and time again, meet you with love and compassion in your low moments. Your actions mirrored mine.

I watch you love, care, and protect.

RELATED: God Sees You, Middle of the Night Mama

Like when you hold your tongue and choose to not speak ill of your husband but rather choose to speak from a place of love and kindness—a love and kindness that protects the image they hold of their father. You choose to see him not for what he did to you—you choose to see their father as I see him, as one of My beloved children. Your actions mirrored mine.

My child, because your surrendered heart is open to my touch, each day I take great pleasure in molding it, molding you to become more like Me.

So yes, my friends, parenthood is a sanctification process.

Our daily actions matter. Nothing is wasted. Nothing is meaningless.

There is purpose in it all—from the changing of diapers, to the making of school lunches, to the kissing of boo-boos.

Each action is part of His greater plan to shape our hearts to mirror His. He sees both our daily victories and our daily misses, and yet never wavers in His belief in us.

He created us for parenthood. He chose us. He lovingly looks on, giving us the strength, patience, and encouragement needed daily to keep pressing on toward the ultimate goal of our sanctification.

RELATED: Motherhood is a Gift Every Single Day

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!

Being a mom Faith God God sees you mom life Motherhood parenthood is a sanctification process sanctification process serving our children

Jessika Sanders

Jessika is the founder and president of Praying Through ministries, a nonprofit that aims to equip and embolden men, women, and children with Biblical Truth as they journey through the difficult seasons of the NICU, PICU, and Child Loss. She is also a published writer who has been featured in Proverbs 31 Ministries’ Hope When Your Heart is Heavy devotional (2021), Focus on the Family’s Clubhouse Jr. magazine (2022), and Tyndale’s So God Made a Mother (2023). Jessika regularly writes for the Praying Through blog.

Ministry Starts Inside Your Own Four Walls

In: Faith

When people hear the word ministry, they often think of missionaries, or the pastor who preaches every Sunday, but in our home, ministry belongs to all of us—even our kids. Growing up, I didn’t think of myself as a ministry kid. Still, when my dad packed our old Astro for the summer and we all piled in, we were on mission. Each kid had a part to play in my dad’s evangelical magic shows (yes, you read that right!). My brother would juggle, my older sister sang, my middle sister flipped the projector slides that shone pictures of Jesus on...

Keep Reading

These Holy Small Things

In: Faith, Motherhood

My 8-year-old-daughter has recently taken up sewing, to my simultaneous delight and chagrin. My delight because I too love sewing; my chagrin because her enthusiasm often outpaces my own abilities, namely, in the undertaking of tedious projects with no pattern. Take, for example, the cloth doll diaper we designed and stitched up together. Granted, the design was fairly basic to draw up and scale. But the minuscule nature of the work, both for my hands and head, was enough to throw me into existential questioning. It was one of those moments when you wonder how the sum of your life...

Keep Reading

Life Lessons from My Grown Children

In: Faith, Motherhood

“Don’t limit a child to your own learning, for he was born in another time.” – Rabindranath Tagore Quietly communing with a loved one in the early morning hours is such an intimate and precious time. Visiting with one’s grown child when all is dark and still is one of life’s purest pleasures. I remember the conversation clearly. My daughter’s husband, small children, and father were all asleep as we whispered and chatted. She and I are both fidgeters by nature, unable to be still for long. This inner restlessness must be remedied, and we are compelled by biology to...

Keep Reading

My Prayer Is Simple Now: “I Believe; Help My Unbelief.”

In: Faith

I have spent most of my life in faith. Not circling it or analyzing it from a distance, but inside it—learning its language before I even realized I was learning it, shaping myself around it in ways that felt as natural as breathing. I was raised in Christian Science, which is a very particular kind of faith. It’s not really about “believing” in the way most people think. It’s about understanding. Aligning your thoughts with what is ultimately true about God and reality. If you can understand rightly, you can be well. If you can see clearly, healing follows. So...

Keep Reading

Your Worth Is Not Someone Else’s To Measure

In: Faith, Living

Insecurity is something we all carry in one form or another. For me, it has probably always looked confident and outgoing from the outside. But internally, it can feel heavy, complicated, and exhausting at times. And when someone comes along whose behavior reinforces those insecurities, it amplifies what was already there. There was someone I had hoped to genuinely connect with, but it was clear from the start that the feeling wasn’t mutual. From the beginning, their wall was up. No matter how kind I tried to be or how carefully I showed up, it never came down. Their distance...

Keep Reading

Lord, Give Me Faith Like Hannah

In: Faith

Woman walking in field with hand in wheat

Hannah knew what it was like to feel forgotten. She often clutched her empty womb and thought Surely the Lord has forgotten me. She knew the bitter sting of feeling isolated and alone. She knew the anguish of praying day after day after day and seeing no fruit, not even a bud, from her faithfulness. Hannah knew what it was like to feel like the weight of the world was on her, and her hope may have dwindled. Even those around her did not offer encouragement. Quite the opposite—they did their best to sow seeds of discouragement. Yet Hannah pressed...

Keep Reading

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood

“Ahhh!” My underwater scream garbled in my snorkel tube as the manta ray’s cavernous mouth swept a hand’s distance from my face. My fingers tightened around the surfboard until my knuckles ached. My arms trembled. I jerked my head side to side, searching for my daughters, Mia and Megan. Recent college graduates, they had joined me on one last mother-daughter vacation before launching their adult lives. They floated easily on the vibrant Hawaiian water, relaxed, trusting. I wanted to borrow their calm. Earlier, our guide had explained that the LED lights built into the surfboard attracted plankton the way college...

Keep Reading

Faith After a Rare Disease Diagnosis

In: Faith, Motherhood

My pastor frequently speaks of “kid pain” and acknowledges there’s nothing like it. I can testify to that. After nine months of uncertainty and unexplained issues following the birth of our now 4-year-old daughter, Harlow, we finally received her diagnosis of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase Complex Deficiency (PDCD), a life-limiting mitochondrial disease with no cure and no FDA-approved treatments. It was heartbreaking. In moments like these, a parent can fall into complete desperation. You go through a range of emotions almost too fast to name: fear for your child’s life; anxiousness about how much time you’ll get with them; overwhelming grief. And...

Keep Reading

What If I Don’t Hear God’s Voice?

In: Faith

There have been many times over the years when I’ve heard others share stories of how the Lord spoke to them or gave them a sign. Seashells scattered along a sandy beach, numbered to represent how many children they would have. A quiet walk in the park, followed by a clear sense that another little one was coming. What a blessing, I think, when I hear and read their stories. I often wonder how much more faith they must have than I do—to know with such certainty that what they heard was truly God speaking. I listen, I smile, and...

Keep Reading

God Holds You As You Hold Everyone Else

In: Faith, Motherhood

Mother holding toddler daughter on her hip, standing outside

She stands in the kitchen, hands trembling over the sink, tears she cannot let fall pressing behind her eyes. The world outside her window is quiet, but inside her heart there is a storm she cannot name. She is hurting, not because she does not love her life, but because somewhere along the way she forgot how to breathe inside it. Yet even in her pain, little voices call her name. Tiny hands tug at her shirt. Lunchboxes need packing, homework needs checking, hearts need holding. And so she wipes her face, forces a smile, and whispers a quiet prayer:...

Keep Reading

Dear Uninvolved Family, I'm Sad You Don't Care Enough to Know Us

Motherhood

Dear Uninvolved Family, I'm Sad You Don't Care Enough to Know Us

How Are the Holidays in Heaven?

Grief

Parenthood is a Sanctification Process That Sometimes Looks Like Sandwich Crusts

This snack, this sorry excuse for a sandwich, was just the example I needed to illustrate the concept that had previously left me so puzzled.

As a mother, each day I watch you die to yourself.

There is purpose in it all—from the changing of diapers, to the making of school lunches, to the kissing of boo-boos.

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Ministry Starts Inside Your Own Four Walls

These Holy Small Things

Life Lessons from My Grown Children

My Prayer Is Simple Now: “I Believe; Help My Unbelief.”

Your Worth Is Not Someone Else’s To Measure

Lord, Give Me Faith Like Hannah

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

Faith After a Rare Disease Diagnosis

What If I Don’t Hear God’s Voice?

God Holds You As You Hold Everyone Else

Previous Post

Next Post

You May Also Like