Free shipping on all orders over $75🎄

When you were born, your little hand curled around my finger. I marveled at the small lines across your palm, and the paper-thin nails on your tiny fingers. I knew you needed me for your survival, and that was such a huge thing. A responsibility I had never expected and wasn’t sure I was prepared for.

As you grew we figured it out together—eating, sleeping, playing—we fell into our routine and I learned what you needed from me and how to provide it.

Soon, I held your dimpled fingers as you learned to walk. You took those first tentative steps, discovering there was a whole new world three feet high. I watched you go from walking to running, skipping, and jumping. You still needed me to help you eat, dress, and bathe, but little hints of independence would peek out more and more. You wanted the purple shirt, not the pink one. You liked sandals more than tennis shoes, and Nemo was your hero.

Soon the day I craved and dreaded had come. I held your trembling hand in mine as you made your way to your kindergarten class. You looked so grown up with your bigger-than-you backpack, first day of school clothes and special frog necklace. You looked over your shoulder as I waved you in, and your big eyes seemed to be saying, Wait mom, I’m so excited but so nervous, too. Don’t leave yet.

All through that year we learned together. You learned how to pack your own backpack and I learned to let you do it yourself. You skipped ahead farther and farther as we walked to school each day, and I constantly reminded myself it was good for you to feel strong and smart enough to lead the way.

Your hands keep growing, along with the rest of you. Sometimes you slip your young lady hand into mine, and I hold on tight—marveling that something that was once so tiny is the same size as mine now. I don’t want to let go. I want to hold onto that little girl in her ruffled skirt, with missing front teeth and the assurance that Mommy can do no wrong.

But you no longer need me the way you once did. You no don’t need me to pick out your clothes or help you into them. As a matter of fact, you would be highly offended if I tried. You can make your own meals, do your own chores and read your own books. You’re okay being on your own sometimes, and in fact prefer that occasionally. Your hands have grown more and more competent as you learn day by day who you are and what you want.

Those hands can hold an instrument, steer a bike, and write your own stories. They help people who need it, rise up high in praise, and wipe away your own tears. They throw a ball, carry a child, and comfort a friend.

Part of me sits in this time and place and desperately misses those years when you needed my care.

Most of me, though—most of me is in awe of who you are becoming. I see your maturity, kindness, and independence. I see how you make connections with the world around you. I see your intelligence, your beauty and your wicked sense of humor. I see your need to go and do and be who God made you to be.

I see your tender heart that still needs her Mom.

So I’ll be here. Even as you take those leaps away, trying new things, experimenting with who you want to be, and taking this crazy world in, my hands are still here for you. I’m here to grab ahold of any time. When you are confused about why people act the way they do. When you are heartbroken by others’ words and actions. When you feel fear about the world we live in or the changes you are going through.

I’ll wave you off when you need to go with a smile and misty eyes, but I’ll still be here when you are ready to come back.

My hands are here, my arms are open, and you will always have a home with me.


So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our new book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Sandra Samoska

Sandra Samoska is a stay at home wife and mom of four beautiful children. She enjoys writing about her faith, family, and how her family has grown her faith on her blog Outnumbered. You can also find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Brothers Fight Hard and Love Harder

In: Kids, Motherhood
Two boys play outside, one lifting the other on his back

The last few years have been a whirlwind. My head has sometimes been left spinning; we have moved continents with three boys, three and under at the time. Set up home and remained sufficiently organized despite the complete chaos to ensure everyone was where they were meant to be on most days. Living in a primarily hockey town, the winters are filled with coffee catch-ups at the arena, so it was no surprise when my youngest declared his intention to play hockey like his school friends. Fully aware that he had never held a hockey stick or slapped a puck,...

Keep Reading

Stop Putting an Expiration Date on Making Memories

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother and son in small train ride

We get 12 times to play Santa (if we’re lucky). This phrase stopped my scroll on a Sunday evening. I had an idea of the direction this post was going but I continued on reading. 12 spring breaks 12 easter baskets 20 tooth fairy visits 13 first days of school 1 first date 1-2 proms 1-2 times of seeing them in their graduation cap and gown 18 summers under the same roof And so on and so on. It was essentially another post listing the number of all the monumental moments that we, Lord willing, will get to experience with our...

Keep Reading

When Your Kids Ask, “Where Is God?”

In: Faith, Kids
Child looking at sunset

How do I know if the voice I’m hearing is God’s voice? When I was in high school, I found myself asking this question. My dad was a pastor, and I was feeling called to ministry. I didn’t know if I was just hearing my dad’s wish or the call of God. I was worried I was confusing the two. It turns out, I did know. I knew because I was raised to recognize the presence of God all around me. Once I knew what God’s presence felt like, I also knew what God’s voice sounded like. There is a...

Keep Reading

Go Easy On the Parents Who Refuse to Skip Naps

In: Kids, Motherhood
Two little boys and their sister walking down a gravel road, color photo

Greetings from a mom who is done with napping children. It’s great to have the flexibility during the day for longer activities, meeting friends for playdates, or day trips to faraway places. It’s a new life . . . the life without naps. The freedom to make plans and keep them. But not that long ago, I was something very different than the flexible, plan-keeping, up-for-it woman I am today. I used to be the mom who refused to skip my child’s nap. Yep, that one. Here’s the thing, for a lot of parents, It’s so much more than just a...

Keep Reading

My Heart Isn’t Ready for You to Stop Believing in Santa

In: Kids, Motherhood
Little boy standing in front of lit christmas tree

“My friend doesn’t believe in Santa anymore, Mom,” my son said out of the blue the other day. We were driving in the car, and when I met his gaze in the rear-view mirror his eyes searched mine. Immediately, my heart sank.  This sweet boy, he’s our first. Thoughtful and smart and eight years old. A quick Google search tells me that’s the average age kids stop believing in Santa, but as his mom, I’m not ready for that—not even a little bit.  I can still hear his barely 2-year-old voice going on about reindeer as we lay together on...

Keep Reading

Motherhood is a Million Little Letting Gos and Fresh Hellos

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother sitting with child on her lap by the setting sun and water

I missed my grocery-shopping buddy the other day. Mondays are usually the days my littlest and I knock out our grocery list. In the past, we’ve dropped the kids at school and then headed to the store. I grab a latte, and she chooses a hot chocolate. But that day, they were all in school. That day, she sat in her kindergarten class, and I went to the grocery store. Alone. A new rhythm. A changed routine. A different season. I listened to a podcast on the drive. My podcast. Then I grabbed a drink. Just one. I got the...

Keep Reading

Dear Kids, This Is My Wish for You

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother hugs three kids

To my kids, The world you’re stepping into is unlike anything I experienced at your age. It’s fast-paced, interconnected, and sometimes overwhelming. But within this chaos lie countless opportunities for growth and joy. My wish for you is that you find the perfect balance between embracing the modern world and staying true to yourselves. Change is one thing you can always count on. Embrace it because it’s often the motivation for growth. Embracing change doesn’t mean letting go of who you are; rather, it’s about evolving into the best version of yourself. Remember, you don’t need to have all the...

Keep Reading

Dear Daughter, Stay Wild

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother and daughter on beach, color photo

I can’t really put my finger on it. Or manage to find all the words. But there’s just something about that girl. Maybe it’s the way her hair sits tangled. Curled up at the end. The way she moves. Dances. As if everyone was watching. Or no one at all. RELATED: There is Wild Beauty in This Spirited Child of Mine It could be the way she smiles. With her heart. The way only she can. The way she cares, loves. For everyone. For herself. You see, she is beautiful in the way only wild things are. The way they...

Keep Reading

You’re Becoming a Big Sister, But You’ll Always Be My Baby

In: Baby, Kids, Motherhood
Pregnant woman with young daughter, color photo

The anticipation of welcoming a new baby into the world is an exciting and joyous time for our family. From the moment we found out we were expecting to just about every day since, the love and excitement only continue to grow. However, amidst all the preparations for the new addition, I cannot help but have mixed emotions as I look back at old videos and pictures of my firstborn, my first princess, my Phoebe—for she will always hold a special place in my heart. As the anticipation grows, my heart swells with a mix of emotions knowing we are...

Keep Reading

Cowgirls Don’t Cry Unless the Horse They Loved Is Gone

In: Grief, Kids, Loss
Little girls Toy Story Jessie costume, color photo

The knee of my pants is wet and dirty. My yellow ring lays by the sink—it’s been my favorite ring for months. I bought it to match Bigfoot’s halter and the sunflowers by his pasture. Bigfoot is my daughter’s pony, and I loved him the most. The afternoon is so sunny. His hooves make the same calming rhythm I’ve come to love as I walk him out back. A strong wind blows through the barn. A stall labeled “Bigfoot,” adorned with a sunflower, hangs open and I feel sick. I kneel down by his side as he munches the grass....

Keep Reading