A Gift for Mom! 🤍

Dear twentysomething woman leaving Target, 

I have to tell you something. I promise there’s more. 

I saw you and your friend coming out of Target today. We passed right at the exit. Your hair was straight as a stick, your make-up flawless, and your clothes were stylishly pressed and fit for a fashion magazine. Even your snazzy loafers matched your perfect, expensive pocketbook. You were both so put together with your Starbucks in one hand, a dainty set of keys in the other. You looked so young and fresh.

At first, I was kind of taken aback. Then, I immediately felt a sort of sense of embarrassment. My pants are held together with a hair tie because I’m too cheap to buy maternity clothes. My purse is a diaper bag. My hair is frazzled, and there might be some dried vomit up in there from my morning sickness earlier. I didn’t drive up in a cute car as you did. My beat-up SUV (which we’re probably trading for a used minivan here soon) smells like a teenager’s sneakers. Really bad teenager sneakers.

RELATED: This is Why Moms Are So Exhausted

You looked beyond me and my tired eyes and pregnant belly and walked with the poise and focus of a runway model.

Soon after my self-conscious embarrassment faded, I realized I wanted to tell you so much . . . that there’s so much more ahead. As you get older and find yourself, or find love and begin a family, you’ll discover that looking glamorous or having it all is not what will fulfill you. I sure wish I had understood that—it’s so easy to get caught up in comparisons, at any age. 

Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun to have cute clothes, and it’s definitely a boost of confidence when you look put together. But what you will find the most happiness in is discovering God’s will for your life and pursuing that with reckless abandon.

RELATED: To the Mama In Her 20s

It may mean motherhood. I promise the snot stains on your shoulder, the stretch marks on your belly, and the dark circles under your eyes will all be worth it.

It might mean you’re called to do hard things, where you end up sweaty and dirty and definitely not glamorous.

It might look like a lot of things you’d never expect. 

I’ll be honest, those loafers you were rocking made me a tad jealous. You looked fabulous. But it didn’t take me long to remember fabulous can look a lot of different ways, including the hot-mess-mom look I’m currently sporting. I hope you know that. 

RELATED: To The 30-Something Moms

I headed over to the dollar spot (because isn’t that your favorite place, too?) and whispered a prayer for you that you’ll find your worth and value in more than looks and wealth. I prayed that perhaps you know these things already. And then I thanked God for sending you my way to remind me that my own fulfillment doesn’t come from the things I wear or stuff I own. 

All His best to you,
The thirtysomething mom on the way in

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!

Briana Bradley Wilson

 I'm a  30-year-old wife and mom with a crazy journey to motherhood. My husband and I are both educators. We adopted a 7 year old little girl who is now a thriving, beautiful 13-year-old, and we also adopted a newborn with a heart defect who passed away in November. We went through six miscarriages as well. I am a Jesus girl, coffee enthusiast, middle school teacher, and I write about parenting, grief and loss, adoption, and faith. 

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

To the Little Girl With Pink Flowers on Her Shoes and Courage in Her Heart

In: Living
Little girl in t-ball outfit

To the little girl with pink flowers on her white shoes and lacy fold-down socks, down and ready, tee ball glove in hand, teeth marks worn into the top. The Pittsburgh Pirates hat from Uncle Dave, a sign of camaraderie. A part of something bigger than herself. A too-long, locally sponsored t-shirt, tied up with a ponytail. Jean shorts and a belt. The type of ordinary only childhood can be. When ordinary is more than enough. No one can tell in this picture that you were scared. That you didn’t feel ready. That behind that tiny-toothed grin you were holding...

Keep Reading

Keep Searching for the Perfect Pair of Jeans

In: Living
Woman shopping for jeans

I don’t know about you, but finding a good pair of jeans has always felt like a process to me. These are too tight. Those are too loose. They fit my thighs but bunch at my hips. The dreaded waist gap. Too short—high waters. Too long, and suddenly you can’t find your legs. Before you know it, you’re ordering your fourth pair and eyeing a fifth. A woman on a mission. And still, as I stand there looking in the mirror at everything that doesn’t quite work, I just know there is a perfect pair out there for me. Somewhere....

Keep Reading

Why I Had My Benign Breast Lumps Removed

In: Living
Doctor examines mammogram images

My journey with monitoring benign breast lumps began in July of 2020 when my OB-GYN found a lump. I was sent home with an ultrasound referral. I called immediately after I got home and asked for the soonest appointment at any location. I had a young son, and was absolutely terrified. They got me in at the end of the week. My husband was on vacation that week, and what should have been an enjoyable family time was plagued with worry. At the ultrasound appointment, they saw two small lumps. I was told these were “likely benign” and was given...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living
Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

Farewell To the Bus Stop Moms

In: Friendship
Four women pose in residential street

It seems like just yesterday I was writing a piece about my last baby going off to kindergarten. I poured my heart out into words about how she was going to find her place in the world, and how I was going to find a new sense of belonging. I wrote, “I was able to find a bit of ‘me’ again. She has barely left my side in almost six years, so her absence is still fresh and foreign. But I know her jubilant little self will be just fine. And just like that, she’s on her way. And so...

Keep Reading

May is Maternal Mental Health Month, and So Many Moms Are Quietly Drowning

In: Living
Mother with baby strapped to chest

I’ve given birth to four beautiful boys and lived through four postpartum experiences. Each one has been different, yet there are familiar threads that run through them all. In the first couple of weeks after my first baby was born, I felt carefree…until that bubble was popped. My newborn got sick and was admitted to the PICU at a children’s hospital 30 minutes from our home. At one point, doctors mentioned the possibility of meningitis, but after many tests and a several-day admission, we were sent home. When we were discharged, a doctor left me with these words, “It’s your...

Keep Reading

The Hard Truth about Friendship in Your 40s

In: Friendship
Two people fishing on a dock

No one can really prepare you for how much friendships change in your 40s. We expect life shifts—kids grow, schedules fill, jobs demand more, and aging parents need us in new ways. Time becomes tighter, priorities change, and naturally, friendships have to adjust. That part makes sense, right? But what doesn’t get talked about enough is the quiet, hard shift, the one where it’s not just time or distance creating friendship gaps, but something deeper. What happens when you look around your “table” and realize it no longer feels like a safe place to land? What happens when you start...

Keep Reading