The Many Faces of Mothering Part 4


Happy Mother’s Day to all of you sweet, hard working mamas! Today and through this series, we celebrate you…your journey, your sacrifices, your love, your faithfulness, your trust in the Lord. (If you are just joining us, get caught up with part 1, part 2, and part 3)Wendy Munsell blesses us with sweet encouragement and a reminder that God’s plans are always best.

Far More Abundantly

If anyone had told me when I was a girl that I would grow up to have seven kids and eventually 18 grandchildren I would have said they were crazy! The only families I had ever heard of that were that large were on TV. And although family life as portrayed on The Walton’s and The Brady Bunch looked fascinating it was certainly never anything I longed for myself.


Besides, I had a plan. I was going to grow up and become a brain surgeon! That was the most difficult and important sounding job I could think when I was a child and I desperately wanted, no, needed, to be someone who mattered.


But God interrupted my craving for validation and status with His own plans for my greater good.

The Many Faces of Mothering

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The Many Faces of Mothering Part 3

Mothering is a journey like no other, a calling. The details are unique, yet the struggles are oh so similar. We’re in this together, moms. Our paths may look different, but our hearts want the best for our kids. Be the mom who God designed you to be and support the moms, different as they may be, around you. Today, we continue in our series to celebrate the calling of motherhood (read part 1 here or part 2 here). Lisa Brown reminds us of important truths to cling to on our journey.

Being A Mom by Lisa Brown

Just recently I asked a group of moms what they do for their children’s bedtime routine. I compared what I do with their ideas and I fell short. I don’t give my kids vitamins every night and I forget to have them brush their teeth. Things like this used to make me feel like a failure. And sometimes it still does.

I’d like to say that I don’t struggle with perfection or comparing myself to other moms. But I do struggle with both of these things. Some days I beat myself up more than other days. I know that I’m not always going to measure up to my own expectations. I’m not a failure. I’m just another mom who doesn’t always get it right.

God is leading me to confront my children in love and hold them accountable.  

The Many Faces of Mothering

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The Many Faces of Mothering Part 2

Mothering is a beautiful journey, full of messes and love and heartache and joy. Although the world often focuses on “rights and wrongs” of mothering, we want to celebrate mothers everywhere who are brave enough to trust in the Lord. In this series (see part 1 here), we celebrate you, mama!

Following is the beautiful journey of Liz Jones.

My journey as a mother is not unlike most I’m sure. It consisted of a series of stumbling, falling, getting up again, dancing, soaring, running and crying on my knees moments. I wish I could say that every move I made, I covered in prayer, sought out the best support and advice and stayed consistent in my own relationship with the Lord throughout, but that would be misleading. I found that the Lord found me unprepared and needy and pulled me up, nurtured me and taught me along the way, as so often He does whenever we do anything new!

The Many Faces of Mothering

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The Many Faces of Mothering Series… Part 1

Motherhood has a way of finding us in places we never thought we’d be. It sneaks into the weakest parts of our being and strangles truths that had somehow always gone unnoticed. It has us bursting for joy and wiping away tears from one moment to the next. It is perhaps the greatest appointment we will ever know and yet, it leaves our souls aching…wondering who we were before, who we will be later, how we will balance it all.

Mothering is so complex that the faces who bear the journey can blur together to form one group of commonalities, bonding individuals that would have otherwise never connected. Yet, the journeys look so completely different, that there is no simple definition of how to walk through it. Today we begin a series to explore The Many Faces of Mothering.

The Many Faces of Mothering

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Before children, if asked what physical attribute I liked best about myself, I would have absolutely chosen my hair. It was thick, straight, long, and blonde. While I knew it didn’t define me, it was definitely part of my picture. I imagined myself someday holding angelic babies, as my hair lay ever so gently at my side, a peaceful smile on my face.  It was a beautiful image.

Reality was a bit different. My hair began to curl during my first pregnancy, not a soft wave, mind you. Kinky curls draped the back of my head and then slowly worked their way over the rest. The in between was quite a sight! It actually gets thicker and curlier with each pregnancy. (Have I mentioned I have 6 children?) What was once smooth and sleek, is now big and crazy.


Join me over at Me Too Moments For Moms…

Fighting with Your “Spirited” Child

So, maybe you’re the mom to a child who seems to challenge you on every level.

You’ve read all the books and listened to all the advice from discipline techniques, reward programs, and food dyes. You’ve endured judgment and stares and tears in the car…and the bathroom…and the kitchen. You’ve felt the overwhelming burden of raising such a child and responded with both grace and haste to the calling before you.

You are a mother to a “spirited” child.


Maybe that child is no longer little and you’re wondering, worrying what the future holds.

Fighting with Your Spirited Child

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Yay Mama!

When she took her first steps, she stopped to clap for herself. After rolling a ball, she claps. Tell her to blow a kiss and you’ll get the sweetest little kiss joyfully blown your way, and happy applauding to follow.

She sees herself the loving way we see her, the way God sees her in all her beauty.

Join me over at Me Too Moments for Moms as I talk about the way our self image changes over the years, and how we need to hold onto who we are in Christ.

Yay Mama!

When You Can’t Go Home for Christmas

So much about the Christmas season beckons us to revisit childhood warmth. Nostalgia is around every corner in traditions, decorations, and family visits. It reminds us of simpler times and calls us to concentrate on what’s really important.

We go to great lengths to preserve and protect these feelings, these memories. We want to feel that same warmth and excitement that we felt in a childhood Christmas moment. We travel great distances and bake cookies like our Grandmother did, all in an effort to go home once more.

So what about the years that we can’t “go home” for one reason or another? How do we contend with the separation from that warmth we yearn to have, and still find sweetness in the Christmas season?

My Grandmother’s house smelled of fresh rolls, chocolate chip cookies (I was certain they were the best in the entire world!), roasted turkey and mashed potatoes. It was a strange and glorious combination. Coming in from the cold, the heat somehow enveloped my body like a cup of hot chocolate warming me from the inside on a chilly, snowy day. She kept the thermostat at 84 degrees, which almost always resulted in us eventually opening a window to let in the frigid air just so we could breathe freely once more. The house was busy and noisy with all the family there, cousins to laugh and play with, aunts and uncles telling stories. It was warm for so many reasons other than the temperature. Life was happening.

When you can't go home for Christmas

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Washing Away Fear

Dripping with Peace

She emerged dripping wet and beaming light, while sporting the most peaceful smile. In this moment, all was as it should be, for her…for all of us there. It was the beginning and an ending all at once.

Since living on an island in the Pacific this past year, the ocean has changed for me. What was once a source of tranquility has become a place of unpredictable danger. We’ve seen beaches laden with jelly fish and the wounded in enough pain to be in shock. We’ve heard of shark attacks reported in the very spots we splashed and played just days before. We’ve watched 15 foot swells come out of nowhere, knocking tourists into the rocks, and we’ve prayed as medics rushed the sand. The serenity and light that beams from the ocean can so often be overshadowed by the darkness that surrounds us. Tranquility is no longer the emotion I feel near the ocean. Now I find myself on edge. Nervous. Anxious.

But, on this day…on this day, I felt peace. No fears consumed me. Jesus was ever present in that water and a joyful serenity overtook us all. A sea turtle even followed us out to the baptism site, and in spite of our efforts to abide by the 20 ft distance restriction, he pursued our steps, chasing my sweet Maggie with a zealous, yet gentle spirit. This day, we felt God’s promises and took notice of nothing but that.

Five days later, terror struck in Paris, and my heart sank down into the pit of my stomach.

Join me at Me Too Moments for Moms to see how in the midst of chaos and terror, we can cling to something other than fear…and experience peace and freedom.

When We Are Called

Called to Holy Work

“Even you can understand that work in the church is of greater importance than work done in the secular world.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, like a shocking Sunday comic balloon. My gracious husband just smiled. I didn’t know how to respond. These words were from a pastor, a pastor we had come to have great respect.

The conversation moved on from there and we never revisited it with him. It was a church we had frequented for only a short time before God called us elsewhere. I’ve replayed the conversation in my head from time to time. I actually don’t think that sweet, man of the cloth, meant to be demeaning to us at all. I think He meant to have us understand the weight of responsibility that resides on His shoulders, the shoulders of one called to lead the lost and shepherd the found. He was certainly called to holy work, work that no doubt kept him up in prayer, visiting hospital beds, reaching out to lost souls. I’m certain it strained and weighed and drove him nearer to the cross, which I’m sure is what he meant.

Those words stung though. What if God doesn’t call us to be a pastor or missionary? Are we somehow less than?

Join me at Me Too Moments for Moms to see how significant our calling is…

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