Our Keepsake Journal is Here! 🎉

She stands alone in the church kitchen, frantically scrubbing pots and pans while the grieving huddle around the fellowship hall, and she slips out the back door before anyone comes in. She is an anonymom.

She gets out of her car and picks up the trash thrown into the ditch alongside the country road. She is an anonymom.

She sits on the park bench, watching her children play. In the meantime, she continually scans the whole playground, keeping track of everyone’s littles, because that is what moms do. She is an anonymom.

RELATED: Can We Restore “the Village” Our Parents Enjoyed?

While the family across town is at the hospital, welcoming their new bundle of joy, she loads up her crew and goes over to mow the yard and trim the weeds. She is an anonymom.

When the news comes that there are unpaid lunch account balances or children who need a winter coat, she gathers the spare change and digs through the coats in the closet, dropping the things in the school office. She is an anonymom.

When she hears that the family down the street is going through a very hard time, she rifles through her pantry and buys groceries and then leaves a casserole and goodies on the front porch. She is an anonymom.

She takes her kids to the library at Christmas where they grab an ornament off the tree and shop for the elderly person or family who comes up a little short at this time of year. They go shopping and wrap the gifts and leave them at their drop-off. She wants to show the next generation how to grow up and be the anonymom.

RELATED: What My Lonely Neighbor Taught Me About Generosity and Cake

Our neighborhoods, communities, and nation are full of the anonymoms we all love and appreciate who fill that special place in our lives, at one time or another. Chances are you are the anonymom or you know someone who is.

It’s likely she wishes to remain the anonymom because, there is something very, very special about knowing people practice acts of goodness, just for the sake of doing it. And there is a lesson in that . . . for us all. May we all get the opportunity to practice being the anonymom in the places we call home.

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

Her View From Home

Millions of mothers connected by love, friendship, family and faith. Join our growing community. 1,000+ writers strong. We pay too!   Find more information on how you can become a writer on Her View From Home at https://herviewfromhome.com/contact-us/write-for-her//

I’m Never Not Mothering

In: Motherhood
Mother hugging young child

I’m not sure what I thought a break would look like once I became a mother, but I was under the impression that the opportunity for one—a real, restful, mind-body-and-soul break—would be an option even if a rare one. In the early days of motherhood, people would say things like . . . Sleep when the baby sleeps. Schedule date nights. Take time for yourself. As if it’s that simple. I remember scrolling through photos of friends who were a step ahead of me in this mothering gig. They appeared to be enjoying breaks involving date nights, girls’ trips, or...

Keep Reading

I Make the Magic in the Invisible Moments

In: Motherhood
Mom reading a book at bedtime

I’ve picked up the same Paw Patrol toy three times today. I’ve told my 3-year-old to pick up that toy at least 50 times. Usually, I walk him over to the toy and make him pick it up and put it away, but today I was exhausted. Fresh, clean laundry always appears in my children’s dressers—as if by magic. Momma magic. They never question how it got there, but expect it to happen every week.  The dishes are always cleaned and put away. The toys are returned to their cubbies, ready for the kids to find them the next morning....

Keep Reading

The Village Really Does Still Exist

In: Motherhood
Moms with kids

My husband and I exchanged terrified glances as the nurse checked our car seat and told us we were, and I quote, “good to go.” I remember thinking how bizarre it was that I had to do more to get my learner’s permit when I was 16 than I had to do to take a baby home. I didn’t think there’d be anything scarier than that initial moment we realized we were solely responsible for this perfect little being. And yet, there was something scarier. Much scarier. The first day I was completely on my own with my squishy, non-communicative,...

Keep Reading