A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I’ve stood out my whole life. Tall since birth, loud since just after birth, heavy for most of my life. I’m not shy, the extrovert you hear about who runs around collecting introverts. I live big, laugh loud. I stand head and shoulders above most of the other moms (and a good portion of their husbands). I wear leopard and sequins and false lashes. I stand out. I do not blend in. And often this lack of camouflage can feel more like not fitting in. 

I had my kids young and never felt at ease with the other moms at the playground. 

I had c-sections and felt isolated in mourning my dream deliveries.  

I have a child with unique needs and another with severe food allergies and never feel at-ease during playdates, wondering what one child may do or another may eat. 

RELATED: I No Longer Sit At Tables Where I Might Be The Topic When I Get Up

I don’t have an Instagram body, my messy buns look more like Duggar beehives, and all those cute shirts with inspirational quotes don’t come in my size.  

I stand out for many, many reasons, which leads me to blaming myself for not fitting in. 

The other moms aren’t as loud as I am. The other moms have kids who will sit quietly at a brunch table. The other moms all seem to have known each other for 82 years, vacationed together, met each others’ extended families, and bought houses with connecting backyards. There is a very real feeling of them vs me, a clear delineation between the other moms who stepped out of Pinterest and me who stepped out of a Vegas drag show. 

I’ve tried to fit in. I’ve tried to wear the clothes they did, to watch the shows they do, to quiet my voice and giggle instead of guffaw. But it was torture, being someone I’m not. I still didn’t fit in, and worse, I had betrayed myself. 

I don’t fit in no matter what I do. But maybe I’m not supposed to. 

I’m not called to be what the other moms are, I’m called to be the mom my kids need.  

I’m not called to casually converse in whispers, I was created to gather up those who wouldn’t have come in themselves. 

It would be pointless for me to wear shirts with inspirational sayings because God gave me a voice to say them out loud.  

RELATED: I Can’t Be Everyone’s Chick-fil-A Sauce

I am not created to be a part of this world, to fit in with it, to be indistinguishable. I am called, set apart, fearfully and wonderfully made. I am unique and fun and often my lack of a verbal filter allows me to give voice to things other people are too afraid to say.  

I was not meant to calmly join the crowd, but to excitedly energize and encourage it. 

You, too, are not supposed to fit in, mama. You’re not meant to blend, to mesh, to bind yourself so tightly to the masses that you become a part of them.  

We are called to be lights, not shadows, meant to be clearly visible, not an outline of someone else. 

You don’t fit in because you’re not supposed to, mama. Not because you’re not enough, not because you’re too much, but because you are exactly as God intended you to be. Larger than life to bring attention to His name, introverted enough to move mountains in prayer. We are known by our fruit, not by our camouflage. 

God took the time to knit you, perfect you, to count the hairs on your head, and his masterpiece in you is an original. You’re not a paint-by-numbers person, you’re you for such a time as this. 

RELATED: Sister, Don’t You Dare Question Your Worth

Speak up if you’re loud. Hang back if you’re an intercessor. Embrace who you are so fully that others around you will feel comfortable enough to be themselves, too. 

Be a testimony, not a plagiarized parent. 

Stop focusing on where you don’t fit in and start looking for holes that can only be filled by you. Stop finding your identity in who accepts you and find it in the One who created you. 

Stop looking at the crowd and begin leading one. 

You’re not created to fit in, mama, so stop wishing away your calling and go be who everyone else is afraid to be. 

Go be yourself.

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!

Jennifer Vail

Jennifer is married to the very handsome man she's loved half her life, with whom she juggles 3 hilarious, quirky, sometimes-difficult-but-always-worth-the-work kids. She is passionate about people and 90's pop culture, can't go a week without TexMex, and maintains the controversial belief that Han shot first. She holds degrees in counseling and general ministries, writes at This Undeserved Life, and can often be found staying up too late but rarely found folding laundry.

I Lost My Sight at 16—But It Wasn’t the End of My Vision

In: Faith
Cross and sunset

After my father shot me, I lay in a hospital bed, and my world went dark. I was 16 years old. The injury left me completely blind. But the darkness didn’t stop there. As my physical sight disappeared, something else came into focus—the depth of the wounds I had carried long before that moment, wounds I had never fully allowed myself to see. For years, I had learned how to survive without asking too many questions. I had learned how to minimize what hurt, how to explain things away, how to keep moving forward as if everything were normal. But...

Keep Reading

Ministry Starts Inside Your Own Four Walls

In: Faith
Family around a table

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
Children sewing at machine

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
Two women's hands on teacups

“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
Woman sitting by water

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
Woman looking over canyon

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
Woman at the beach as waves come in

“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
Family smiling in posed photo

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
Woman with folded hands looking up

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