So God Made a Mother Collection ➔

My oldest walked over to me as I stood at the kitchen island prepping dinner. In the midst of music playing and witching-hour-tantrums from her younger siblings, she silently taped a piece of paper to my shirt and wandered off. If I could go back to that moment and look at the writing on the paper right away, I would. But I serve a gracious God, and He wrote a beautiful story within this moment. I saw there was a doodle on it and a few words but didn’t have the time to read what it said. I was too busy to see the gift God placed directly on my heart. So, I continued chopping veggies.

RELATED: I Hope I Loved You Enough Today

Hours later, after dinner was made and devoured, after the dishes were washed and put away, after giggles filled the house, I saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror. As my youngest was playing in the bathtub behind me, I saw leftover mascara from yesterday, unwashed hair sticking up in every direction, unknown stains on my shirt, and that small forgotten piece of paper.

To: Molly
From: God

It was a gift tag.

I cried all the tears. Heavy sobs turned into silent shaking as my knees weakened and I fell to the floor thanking the Lord for His gentle reminder. I am a gift.

I am broken and still a gift.

I struggle with pride and am still a gift.

I am stressed and still a gift.

I am a gift.

RELATED: Dear Child, Thank You For Slowing Your Busy Mama Down

Most days as a mom of an 8-year-old and triplet 6-year-olds, I don’t feel like the right woman for the job. I feel unqualified and confused, questioning if I am getting this parenting thing right. I feel inadequate and anxious. I feel a lot of things, but I never remember often enough that God chose these humans to be with me. I am a gift to them just as much as they are a gift to me.

“Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him” (Psalm 127:3, NLT).

“Her children stand and bless her” (Proverbs 31:28, NLT).

I immediately pulled the tag off my shirt and stuck it to my bathroom mirror. I see this beautiful reminder each and every day.

A reminder to parent with grace because God didn’t screw up when he made me a mother. A reminder to slow down and enjoy the small moments with them while they are still little. A reminder to love gently and with joy. A reminder, above all, that God is in control. He is orchestrating something beautiful and for that I am grateful.

RELATED: Mama, You Were Made For This

My daughter had no idea how important that tag would become. She doesn’t yet understand how much motherhood tears a heart to pieces. And whether or not she knew what she was doing, I am forever grateful she has the Holy Spirit living in her. She was obedient to His soft whisper that day. 

These quiet nudges come into our lives daily if we are still enough to recognize them.

You are a gift right where you are. You are a gift in your home. You are a gift in your workplace. Do not doubt your placement or your qualifications. The Lord is teaching you, growing you, and molding you into the woman He created you to be. The crushing and rebuilding will be uncomfortable, but when He finally gets the victory it is all worth it. Stand confidently in that and never forget how much of a gift you are to those around you. You are a gift.

Out of the Spin Cycle is a serious game-changer for motherhood. We can’t put it down! Don’t have time to sit and read? Listen to it here on Audible.

Recommendations in this post contain affiliate links. Her View From Home may receive a small commission if you choose to purchase.

Heather Eberhart

Heather L Eberhart is a speaker and writer - inspiring women to find their purpose while trusting God for what’s next. She wears many hats as a triplet mom, mom of four, and Navy wife of over ten years. When she’s not on stay-at-home mom duty, she enjoys leading worship at her local church, sewing, and eating pizza on Fridays. Though the Navy uproots her often, Heather and her family of six currently live in Chesapeake, Virginia. She can be found online at heatherleberhart.com

Motherhood is the Great Uniter

In: Motherhood
Mom with child silhouette

Connection. It’s something that we all need right now. I knew that when I became a mother, I would be joining the ranks of fellow moms in my family, my workplace, my community. But what I didn’t know is the sense of camaraderie I would form with motherly figures I will never meet. On one particularly stressful day during the newborn stage, I had this unshakeable thought: I am not the first—nor will I be the last—mom to survive this. As I toyed with the idea of mothers existing all over the globe, long before my time, the entire history...

Keep Reading

Going on Family Vacation with Young Kids is Work That’s Worth It

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mom with two young kids on airplane

Our routine will be a mess. Our toddler won’t sleep in a new environment. Our baby needs all of the gear. The flight could be a disaster. I went through a mental checklist of reasons why this kind of family vacation would be hard. It was a pretty convincing list if I’m being honest. I considered throwing a pity party dedicated to the concerns I shoulder as a mother. A few days later I felt a wave of conviction wash over me. I was dreading a trip that was meant to be a blessing to our family. Any kind of...

Keep Reading

One Child, One Moment, One Memory at a Time

In: Motherhood
Mother with toddler girl smiling

As I sit and watch my girls play in the water at our cabin, I can’t help but smile. Their laughter, their smiles, their pure JOY for the simplest of life’s pleasures- enjoying mother nature-is palpable. But so is my anxiety. For every moment I’m watching them play, I fear it’s a moment that will too soon become a memory. An experience gone too quickly, for I so desperately want to keep them little. You see when I hear things such as, “I only have ____ summers left with my child at home,” I go into total panic mode. It...

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

Your Son Won’t Care About Decorating His Dorm Room

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
College boy in dorm room

  ‘Tis the season for dorms for those of us whose children are in college. You may be designing, planning, and buying dorm essentials because the decorating has begun; physically or mentally, it’s happening. And here’s what I’ve learned: boys don’t care. That’s right, boys don’t care what their rooms look like. OK, that may be a bit of an overstatement, but trust me, it’s not that far off the mark. Last year, I remember scrolling through my newsfeeds admiring my friends’ daughters’ room pictures. Everything was color coordinated, and I mean EVERYTHING–even the Command hooks stringing up the fairy...

Keep Reading

I Want To Raise Good Sisters

In: Kids, Motherhood
Four girls sitting on a rock in the forest, color photo

My current dilemma: how to teach four little girls how to be good sisters when I have no idea what I’m doing? I was an only child growing up, and a tomboy at that. It was a lonely, quiet childhood. I remember wishing for a sister, but knowing that with my single mom, it wasn’t going to happen. So, the sister thing is a big mystery to me. I’ve noticed (admittedly with some envy) adult sisters together and their inside jokes, shared history, and language known only to each other. I’ve read about sisters in books. The relationships between the four...

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

I Don’t Just Love You, I Like You

In: Kids, Motherhood
Young boy standing at bridge, color photo

My growing child, my heart often aches when I look at how big you have gotten. You aren’t a baby anymore, you’re a whole kid. You are your own person, with your own thoughts and feelings. You have your own friendships, and interests.  Parts of me realize you don’t need me the same, but deep down I know you need me all the same. And I’m realizing, that in all of these changes, my love for you is also a like.  RELATED: Being Your Mom is the Greatest Honor of My Life Because now we can connect in a whole...

Keep Reading

Dear Kindergartner, I’ll Always Remember You This Way

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother and child touch foreheads

The first magical flickers of your strong heartbeat on a black and white screen— the reassuring evidence I needed to know you were gaining strength for this world. My belly grew, and I proudly went shopping for maternity clothes to cover it. I felt the first dances of your little feet, and it reminded me of butterflies taking flight— the movement of a true miracle. I’ll always remember you this way. The sounds of your first cries—music ringing in my ears. You were real, Earth-side, and wanting only to be loved. The softness of your skin, the way you smelled,...

Keep Reading

Having the Tools To Parent a Child with Sensory Processing Disorder Changes Everything

In: Kids, Motherhood
Child playing with water in tube

My heart leaped into my mouth as Soccer Mom, with her matching foldable chairs and ice-cold Gatorade, glared at me. I wanted to explain how hard I tried to be a good mom, to raise a kind human, but I swallowed the words so I could vomit them at my 5-year-old son on the ride home.   Didn’t he know that pushing another child was unacceptable? Hadn’t I taught him to use gentle hands?   RELATED: To the Special Needs Mom Who Sits Alone Despite implementing the parenting books that promised me a new kid by the week’s end, I often wondered...

Keep Reading