A Gift for Mom! 🤍

You don’t know me. We’ve never met but living in a small town, we probably know some of the same people because that’s small town life. Everyone knows everyone else. Except, I don’t know you either.

Much to my chagrin, I didn’t even notice you. If I’d noticed you first, I might’ve seen the tendrils of hair escaping your ponytail after a long day at work. Or the way you kept shifting your weight from one tired foot to the other. I might’ve seen the lack of energy as you slid our groceries across the scanner.

But, the only thing I noticed were your words. “Wow, your kids sure are dirty, aren’t they?”

My hand froze mid-air, the jug of milk hovering over the conveyor belt. I glanced at my kids to see if they’d heard. They didn’t miss a beat as they continued loading the loaf of bread and fruit out of the cart. Perhaps they didn’t hear.

A smear of dirt across my oldest son’s forehead matched his mud-stained shirt. Drops of earlier mud splattered now clung to his calves. A clump of mud sat precariously across my tow-headed son’s hair threatening to fall off and land on the bunch of bananas he held.

Stunned, I felt ashamed for half a second before looking back at her. Maybe I should’ve wiped them down for a minute before rushing into the store to grab a few things for supper.

But maybe I’d misunderstood. Surely it was an innocent observation. Maybe she didn’t realize her tone came across as condescending and disgusted.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“Your kids,” she answered, eyebrows raised. “They’re really dirty.”

I paused a moment, considering my reply. “Well,” I slowly said, “We just came from the farm…”

She gave a half-nod like she only half-understood. Quietly, we paid for our groceries and slipped out, dirty kids and all.

For days, my mind refused to release her words. Not because I harbored any irritation toward her, but because I’m no different.

A Different Perspective

How many times do I judge someone by their appearance? How many times do I look at the man or woman holding a sign near the side of the road asking for food or money and wonder why they aren’t working? I don’t know their circumstances, yet I make assumptions I know nothing about. What about the mom ignoring her screaming child in the store? I think, “If that were my child, I’d __________.” But maybe they just came home from getting immunizations or they need to pick up a prescription for a sick family member. All I think is a good swat on the bottom would fix that.

I don’t know. Yet, I assume. Don’t we all make judgments on assumptions when we would do well to focus inward?

Have you been there? Have you too made judgments on assumptions when we would do well to focus inward?

A paradigm shift might lead us to laud that mother for bringing her child into the store, crankiness and all, instead of leaving them in a hot car. That’s a good mom right there.

Perhaps the man sitting on the side of the road just lost his home, his family, and his job. Maybe between jobs, he’s humiliated by resorting to begging. Maybe he will use the money to drink, but maybe not.

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ Matthew 25:40

It’s Our Turn to Make a Difference

Regardless of someone else’s circumstances, a simple change of perspective can leave a lasting impression. Offering to help the mom with the cranky toddler or dropping off a bag of hot food to the begging man not only demonstrates the love of Christ to them, but it models compassion to our own family and others watching.

The next time we’re ready to rush to assumptions based only on appearances, let’s stop. Instead of brash thoughts or comments, let’s offer compassion, love, and a helping hand. A simple act of kindness, forgiveness, and love leave a lasting impact for the kingdom of God. Let’s make a difference today.

This piece was previously published at farmwyfe.com

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!

Amanda Wells

Amanda Wells is the proud wife of a smokin’ hot third-generation farmer, and they have taken Psalm 127:5 literally, raising their quiverful of six kids on the farm. She loves baking, reading, writing, and arithmetic (kidding!). Amanda writes about faith, homeschooling on the farm, and family life at farmwyfe.com.

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