Embracing the Seasons of Motherhood by Just Between Us

Cover Design & Layout: Ashley Schmidt Compiled By: Ann Cook Editorial Team: Suzan Braun, Shelly Esser, Danae Templeton

Dear Friend, Do images of warmth, fulfillment, and joy come to mind when you think of motherhood? When we think of our moms, grandmothers, aunts, and possibly our own experiences of being a mom, we may have similar wonderful feelings. However, when we get down to the essentials of all that motherhood entails, courage comes to the forefront of what’s needed to navigate all the seasons of motherhood—the joy-filled days along with those packed with stress and heartache. Courage is defined as: “mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger or difficulty; courage implies firmness of mind and will in the face of extreme difficulty.” Being a mom isn’t a sprint; it’s a marathon that lasts a lifetime! It definitely isn’t for the faint of heart. All of us at Just Between Us hope to encourage and inspire you with these inspirational stories by our JBU authors. Whether you’re a mom, daughter, grandma, or aunt, we hope these stories will inspire you. From the joy of babies to the challenges of teenagers; from the heartache of infertility to the delight of adoption; from being an empty-nester to the legacy of an aging mom; we pray you’ll be touched by these stories of perseverance by mothers like you. May you find courage in whatever season you’re in, relying on Christ the Lord to help you go the distance.

Have a Blessed Mother’s Day, Your JBU Sisters in Christ

Embracing the Seasons of

Motherhood Courage to Go the Distance

Contents The Invisible Mother Anonymous...........……………………………………………………….1 Kids are Clay, Not Cookies By Terri Foster…………………………………………………….3 Lessons I Learned from Mom By Jill Briscoe ………………………………………………....5 An Unforgettable Mother’s Day By Natalie B. Hall…………………………………………...7 Adopted and Beloved By Stephanie Seefeldt…………………………………………………..10 Perspective is Everything! By Ann M. Cook………………………...…………………………14 Want to Be a Good Mom? By Laura Story…………………………………………………….17 Let God Change Your Nothing into Something By Anne Williamson………………………..21 Still Relevant, Valued, and Blessed! By Susan A. Vernick……………………………….…….24 Living a Life of Impact By Lisa Elliott…………………………………………………………26 Sage Wisdom By Jill Briscoe………………................…………………………………………28

The Invisible Mother Anonymous

ne day, I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, “Who is that with you, young fella?”

“Nobody,” he shrugged. Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only five, but as we crossed the street I thought, “Oh my goodness, I’m nobody?” As Nobody, I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family, like “Turn the TV down, please,” and nothing would happen. No one would get up or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, “Would someone turn the TV down?” Nothing. That’s when I started putting all the pieces together. I don’t think anyone can see me. I’m invisible. It all began to make sense! The blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids would walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside, I’d think, “Can’t you see I’m on the phone?” Obviously not; no one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner. No one can see me, because I’m the Invisible Mom.

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more. Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I’m merely a clock to ask, “What time is it?” I’m a satellite guide to answer, “What number is the Disney Channel?” Some days I’m a crystal ball: “Where’s my other sock? Where’s my phone? What’s for dinner?” Hands, a clock, a crystal ball—but always invisible. One night, some girlfriends and I were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip and was telling wonderful stories. I sat there, looking around at the others all so put-together, so visible and vibrant. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic when my friend turned to me with a beautifully-wrapped package and said, “I brought you this.” It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription:

“With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.”

Kids are Clay, Not Cookies By Terri Foster

aking chocolate chip cookies with preschoolers requires a sense of adventure and a willingness to let things get messy. It doesn’t hurt if you’re able to overlook the ensuing chaos by focusing

on the ultimate prize of homemade, melt-in-your-mouth treats. When our daughter was five and son was three, we got out bowls and cluttered the kitchen counter with ingredients. We measured and mixed, our faces and the floor splotchy white with flour. We got sticky and things spilled. But when the buttery batter was spooned onto baking sheets and popped in the oven, the aroma of warmed vanilla filled our home. Minutes later we reaped our reward—cold glasses of milk with fresh-from-the-oven cookies. Without realizing it, I started thinking that parenting was a similar process. Surely if I followed certain methods, poured in the right activities, and added ample diligence, we’d yield a batch of good kids, right? Not many years later, my children hit their preteen and teen years. As they grew up, they messed up. At times they bore little resemblance to the kind of children we hoped to raise. What was happening? We had prayed for our kids and taught them Scripture. We had spent time with them, trying to authentically live out our faith. We had involved them in church. We had guarded their influences. Why was our recipe for good kids going bad? Through His Word, the Lord showed me an error in my cookie-cutter mentality and provided a better picture of parenting. Turns out, children are more like clay than cookie dough. In the Bible, God calls Himself a potter and describes us—His children—as clay. “Yet you LORD, are 3

our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand” (Isaiah 64:8). Some clay is pliable, while other lumps resist shaping or harden quickly. Children are complex individuals who make their own choices. Despite our best efforts, sinful, selfish decisions often come easily, just like they do for Mom and Dad. Every day and in every circumstance, God pursues us, desiring to mold and shape us for His purposes. It’s not up to us what we become; it’s in the hands of our Creator. We’re not to question the way things are turning out; we’re to trust there’s a plan and a process beyond what we can see or know. A potter focuses on a work in progress, not a finished product. I asked God to forgive my impatience. Recommitted to perseverance and courage in parenting, I went to the kitchen to enjoy a cookie and the sweet assurance that God is at work. I’ll keep faith and trust Him to finish the work He’s started with my family.

Lessons I Learned from Mom By Jill Briscoe

y mother had asked us to call her Peggy from our early childhood days, perhaps anticipating the day she would lay aside her role as mother for friendship’s garments. Peggy was the first to

know when we were expecting our first baby. Her beautiful dark brown eyes lit up with joy and excitement, and she immediately began making her own preparations for the event. She told me that she wanted to be called “Nana” instead of grandmother, a name that conjured up in her mind too austere a picture and not the friend she was determined to be to our children. I will never forget bringing David home. I thought of a prayer she had told me she prayed every day, “Oh, God make me a good mother.” I knelt by my bed and prayed, too—adding, “like Peggy.” Most weekends in the summer while we were living in England, my father traveled up to the nearby lake to fish for salmon. Sometimes he brought mother and left her with me for the day. How I used to look forward to those special visits! As we chatted together, we would laugh all day as Peggy set the pace and made the jokes, constantly poking fun at herself. We busied ourselves with diapers and cleaning and cooking, while we talked endlessly of fond memories and experiences we shared. One of the most basic lessons I learned from my mother was her sense of openness and honesty. She could never bear to harbor anything and had to “have it out” as soon as possible. She always had to tell us what was on her mind and clear the air. My sister practiced a similar philosophy. But for me, this was harder. Telling half the truth, resorting to a little white lie, or taking an “anything for peace” stance never seemed to do me any harm, but, whenever she could, Peggy pushed me into being truthful in my statements and actions. She encouraged me to put things right with people immediately. It took the Lord Jesus Christ to change me and to help me share my feelings and failings openly and honestly with people. 5

Peggy always respected my sister and I and “trusted us twice”—a skill mothers should learn to cultivate. To trust once doesn’t require much, but to trust again when trust has been broken requires another quality of confidence altogether. It requires belief in the child, a determination to think the best, and a confidence in God’s intervention when you believe the worst. What marvelous trust God placed in us, I thought. And what a risk He took! Fancy allowing us the chance to build eternal values into our children’s lives. God has given us the ability as parents to guide our own into the way of Jesus. I realized it is this dimension that makes a Christian mother different. She has the wonderful ability to know God and make Him known to her child—what a blessing! Yes, I could teach our children the Eternal’s ways, I thought excitedly. I could seek to emulate not just the do-as-I-say but the do-as-I-do quality I had seen in Peggy’s life. I could be open and authentic in my own life while pointing my children to the Savior. Not putting on airs, but having the courage to let them see me as I really am while trusting in God to guide and encourage me as their mother. What a wonderful lesson indeed!

An Unforgettable Mother’s Day By Natalie B. Hall

y husband and I decided to celebrate Mother’s Day with our 76-year-old cousin Sara, who lives in a nursing home. Her husband is gone and her only daughter’s whereabouts are unknown.

We planned to give Sara a gift, spend a little time with her, and leave. Little did we know that God had a different plan that involved more than we could have ever thought or imagined. What happened in the nursing home that day was unforgettable! We arrived to see Sara early in the afternoon. At the end of the hallway we saw Sara in the sitting area along with four other elderly women, and we joined them. Sara was sitting in a beige armchair with her slender frame tilted to the side. Her bent elbow rested on the arm of her chair and her chin rested in her hand. We didn’t know if she was asleep or deep in thought, so I walked over to her, hugged her, and said, “Hello, Sara, Happy Mother’s Day!”

A Heart of Compassion I glanced at the other women in the sitting room. They were not talking to each other, nor was there any kind of interaction between them—it felt very gloomy. I sat down on a loveseat next to a petite woman with short salt-and-pepper hair. She turned, looked at me, and smiled. “Hello,” I said. She began talking excessively and her conversation was incoherent at times. Another woman was sitting in a chair fast asleep, and another had her eyes closed. Her white hair looked like a halo around her head. The last woman sat in a wheelchair. She looked at us with her dark eyes, smiled, held out her hands, and said in a booming voice, “Will somebody give me some soap so I can wash my hands. They will not let me wash my hands!” My heart filled with compassion. I wanted to do something special for Mother’s Day for each woman, but what could we do? 7

I looked at the women and asked, “Does anyone know what day it is?” The woman with the booming voice said, “It’s Mother’s Day!” Her response surprised me because she appeared to have some form of dementia. Then she added, “I need some soap so I can wash my hands.” No one seemed to be excited or even to care about the day, not even Sara. I didn’t know if all the women understood that it was Mother’s Day, but even if they did, why should they be excited? No one else was visiting and who knew if anyone was coming later to see them.

The Gift of Singing Each woman in the sitting room was precious, and I wanted to share Mother’s Day with all of them! So my husband and I decided to remain in the sitting room and give Sara her gift privately later on. “What gift could we give all the women to make this day special?” I thought. The Lord filled my heart with a song, and I began to sing “Jesus Loves Me.” Sara joined in, and to my surprise, the other women began to sing too! With all the women singing together, their soft melodious voices filled the room, and they sounded like a choir of angels. We also sang, “Jesus Loves the Little Children,” and “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.” Joy filled my heart! Such a serene and pleasant spirit permeated the sitting area, and I felt the presence of the Lord. We continued singing other songs such as “Amazing Grace” and “Somebody Prayed for Me.” I looked down the hall and saw a slender woman with red hair rapidly pushing her walker to join us. “Does anyone know another song?” I asked. Our new arrival said, “I know one,” and she started singing “Softly and Tenderly” with a soft and lovely voice. We all joined in, and the presence of the Lord grew even stronger.

The Lord is my Shepherd

We ended our Mother’s Day celebration by reciting Psalm 23 together. All the women looked peaceful as they recited the Psalm. I have read this Shepherd Psalm many times, but saying it together with this unexpected group of women brought the Psalm to life in a way I have never experienced before. A moment of silence followed, and the women seemed to understand we had been singing and reciting about someone special—our Great Shepherd. What an unforgettable Mother’s Day! I will never forget our enjoyable fellowship and our priceless Mother’s Day gift—the awesome shared presence of Jesus. “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them” (Matthew 18:20). Jesus came to be with us that day, right in the midst of our fellowship. He brought along love, joy, and peace. His presence was evident in the radiant smiles and soft glows of the women’s lovely faces. My husband and I never imagined that this day would turn out to be so wonderful.

We may formulate our plans, but we never know what God has in store for us.

No matter

where you are, consider being available for His service, flexible with your schedule, and open to the moving of the Holy Spirit. You never know when He will minister to you or use you to minister to others. Who knows, you may have an amazing and unexpected day like we did!

Adopted and Beloved By Stephanie Seefeldt

wrote this reflection on my 40th birthday—a few years back now—but I come back to it every year around Mother’s Day, when my heart is particularly tender toward the two women who mothered me

in very different ways.

Not flesh of my flesh, Not bone of my bone, But still miraculously my own. Never forget for a single minute, That you didn’t grow under my heart, But in it. Mom clipped this poem out of the newspaper when I was very young. She carried it in her purse for years and then put it on her nightstand, where it sat within my line of sight during the countless teenaged hours I spent on the bed while using her phone. Hours. Days, most likely. What was it like to have that much free time? I can no longer recall. But in those hours, the poem was sealed into my psyche.

The Joy of Being Chosen Adoption wasn’t a secret, or a stigma, or a whispered embarrassment in our home. It was a shoutedfrom-the-rooftops, blessed and beloved truth that made me special. Unique. Chosen. My parents wanted me so badly that they went and found me. How very cool is that? I don’t remember being “told” that I had been adopted—it was just simply true. My story. A chosen child. All that I knew was that I was born in River Falls, Wisconsin, and that my birth mom had green eyes and olive skin. Never once did I 10

feel abandoned. Never once did I feel a sense of shame for being “given up.” I owe that completely to the culture that Mom and Dad created in our home. There was just no room for that kind of thinking. I was theirs. After the heartbreak of two miscarriages, they were ready to do whatever it took to become parents. They adopted Dave in 1967. After trying to conceive again, they endured the stillbirth of Timothy in 1970. Before Mom was even home from the hospital, she charged Dad to call Lutheran Social Services right away so that they could get back on “the list”—they were both 38, and in those days, that was old to be adopting another infant.

Courage to Stay the Course Meanwhile, in River Falls, Elly was in the middle of her senior year of high school, bound and determined to finish school even though she was dealing with an unplanned pregnancy and a rather unsupportive birth father. (Jump ahead a couple of decades and he more than made up for it. He’s now a wonderful man with a wonderful family.) Elly knew that the best thing for her to do was to carry her child to term and to give her up for adoption. She got to spend a few hours with me when I was born, and snuck in her two best friends and her mom. How does someone have that kind of courage? I will never ever know. I’ve sat in that hospital bed with two homegrown babies of my own, and the thought—the excruciating thought—of that moment of surrender is one that I can’t fathom. But Elly was sure, and she stayed the course. Brave, brave Elly. Seven days later, Mom and Dad drove to Eau Claire, Wisconsin, where the agency office was located, to pick me up from the foster care worker. Dave, who was three and a half, was charged with the enviable task of making the final choice as to whether I would be Susan or Stephanie. He decided that Stephanie was far more rife with possibilities for torture in the years ahead. Stephanie it was, with Louise as a middle name for my mom’s side of the family—Great Grandma Louisa, Grandma Emma Louise, Mom Carol Louise, and me. The next 18 years were spent in as traditional a family as one could create in the ‘70s and ‘80s. Adop11

tion made us special. Dave and I looked nothing alike, although each of us favored one of our parents. Dave found his niche in science, model trains, and sports—and I found mine in music. On occasion, I wondered about my birth mom… “What is she like? Do I look like her? Does she sing?” but I really don’t remember ever wondering if she missed me or if she thought about me. Mom and I had our moments during my junior high and high school years, but even then, I knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. This was my family. Mom wrestled with depression, I think, for most of her adult life. She was impatient, and she was a little OCD around the house, especially with laundry. She wasn’t a great cook, but she was at my school almost every day because of her commitment to the parent groups and volunteer opportunities. She was a rock star in this department. Mom turned the other cheek when I started a job for which I had to raise my own funds. She didn’t like it, but she let me do it without giving me a hard time. I was a Gen-Xer being raised as a Baby Boomer, so I was in the unique category of both wanting to be independent as a young adult of the ‘80s, but also living in the context where the lens through which we saw the world looked more like Leave It to Beaver than The Facts of Life. I had a charmed childhood and, with a few small exceptions, a pretty charmed adolescence, too. Mom was a big reason why.

Dealing with Loss Nothing in this life has ever made me feel as anchor-less, as adrift, as living my life without my mom. What a strange, unchosen, holy road. The hardest day for me since losing Mom was actually the first New Year’s Eve after she died. I woke up that morning not expecting it to be that big of a deal. After all, we had made it through Thanksgiving, her birthday, and Christmas. I have to confess that the New Year’s meltdown took me by surprise. As the day went on, I felt more and more… unsettled. Upset. But it was different than any of the grief stuff I had felt before. I finally realized at eight that night that I did not have the capacity to process a calendar year in my life that didn’t include my mom. My body knew before my head and heart did that turning the calendar meant that Mom was left behind. It was excruciating. I was in bed by 8:30, unable to face the dropping of the ball and the moment the year would end. 12

The next morning, there was a sense of relief, but even now the thought of that night is hard to bear. The confluence of those events—my first birthday without Mom being my 40th, Dad selling my childhood home and moving to be near us—has led me only to my knees, and to a place of stillness before the Lord. It’s the only place where my grief is assuaged by knowing that the Lord knows grief and pain deeper than I ever will, and that He cries by my side, too. This broken, broken world, crying for redemption… cancer… the result of the fall. I hate it.

Doubly Blessed And for my 40th birthday? Mom would have sent me flowers and cards and would have laughed and celebrated with me like she did on my 39th just last year. How is it possible? I don’t know. But I’m learning to navigate these waters day by day, holiday by holiday. And my heart is full of the richest memories imaginable stemming from life with Mom. I’m grateful. And sad. And being refined. And learning to love more deeply and to number my days. Elly sent me flowers today. Big, gorgeous flowers—because today I have turned 40. And that means that 40 years ago, she followed through and did the very hardest thing. Who gets the great blessing of having two real moms to love? Who gets that? I do. What an unbelievable privilege to share in the lives of these two extraordinary women.

Perspective is Everything! By Ann M. Cook

kind of have a love/hate relationship with Mother’s Day. On the one hand, being a mom to my three kids has been the most fulfilling and important undertaking I’ve ever been part of. Raising our chil-

dren, through all the ups and downs of life, to become responsible adults with faith, integrity, and character is my biggest contribution to the world—motherhood should be celebrated! On the other hand, I lost my mom in my early 20’s and she never got to meet my kids. She would have been an amazing grandma—visiting often, spoiling them relentlessly, and helping a lot! When Mother’s Day rolls around every May, I have an underlying sadness for a short while that can’t be willed away. No matter what we do or how we celebrate, at the end of the day I often feel a certain emptiness or void that can’t be filled.

Waiting for an Answer I have often prayed, “Please Lord, if it’s in Your will, please let me live long enough to meet and know my grandchildren—because my mom never did.” As the kids grew, finished high school, and graduated college, I kept this prayer in my heart, hoping someday for it to be answered with a “yes.” I’d meditate on Philippians 4:6–7, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Through many of life’s blessings and trials I’ve come to know and experience God’s peace—it’s always there to protect my heart and mind through my relationship with Christ—no matter what happens in this life. When I was turning 53, the age my mom was when she died from a ruptured brain aneurysm, I was a little nervous that I wouldn’t live to be older than her. I don’t know why, I was just anxious about it, thinking my feelings would calm down after my birthday. I had been told by a couple doctors that aneurysms weren’t hereditary, but my brother in-law, who’s an MD, said, “Why don’t you get a scan of your 14

head, you’ll feel better!” So I did. Later in the day, after I had an MRI, I received a call from my doctor. She said, “I’m really surprised to tell you this, but they found an aneurysm in your brain, and you need to see a neurologist very soon. It’s not an emergency, but you’ll need to have this fixed within a couple of months.” I was in total shock! I found out aneurysms can be hereditary after all. I feared going through what my mom did. If this didn’t end well for me, I didn’t want my children to live through grief like I experienced, having their Mother’s Day tainted by loss. My neurologist recommended a much less invasive procedure called a “coiling,” not brain surgery, to correct this. I was very fortunate to have found the aneurysm when I did. Before I scheduled my procedure, my daughter and son-in-law told us they were expecting their first baby—our first grandchild! I was elated! They were hoping this would give me something to look forward to and help with my fear. I was so grateful for this news, hoping it was the blessing from the Lord I had prayed for.

The Answer Revealed My family surrounded me with prayer and support before I went in for my “coiling.” The procedure was successful, and five months later Carolyn Grayce was born! When I held her in my arms and looked into her eyes on her first day of life, my heart was filled to overflowing with joy. My prayer was answered, and I was able to start the amazing adventure of being a grandma. I marveled at how much joy this brought me as I had none of the responsibility, loads of fun, and the wisdom to realize God is in control no matter what happens—everything really is going to be okay. Since then, Owen and Isabel joined their sister, and Megan and Mackenzie were born to our son and his wife. Holding each one for the first time has been one of the highlights of my life. I’m incredibly blessed to have five grandchildren and am amazed at how God multiplies the love I have for each one; all of them have brought me so much happiness and delight. 15

Since they’ve been born, Mother’s Day seems to come and go with less distress and much more joy. I still miss my mom, but I’m so thankful I’m able to be Nana and Grandma. I’m also thrilled to experience wonderful times with my three adult children—an experience I didn’t get to have with my mom. She would have loved being with our kids, but when I really think about it, she kind of saved me and allowed me to have this privilege. If her aneurysm hadn’t ruptured, I would have never thought to get checked out. God brought goodness out of a terrible loss. This has given me a new perspective about Mother’s Day. Instead of a love/hate relationship with the day, I’ll be focusing on my memories of Mom along with the joy I’m able to experience with my family. This truly is a gift to celebrate each second Sunday of May!

Want To Be a Good Mom? By Laura Story

ecently, I was invited to speak and lead worship at a conference for moms. I am a bit new to this role, having a four-year-old and two-year-old twins, but I was willing to share whatever wisdom

I have gathered over these brief five years. We loaded up the van early that morning, carrying the sleeping kids from their beds straight to their car seats. After collecting the rest of the band, instruments, and equipment, we were on our way. It wasn’t until we arrived at the conference that I realized I had left behind the kids’ suitcases… and their beds, and their toys, and literally everything they needed for the entire weekend. I had even managed to leave behind their shoes! To make matters worse, one of the twins wasn’t feeling well, and he threw up on me. We’d run to a store and buy more clothes, and then he’d do it again. The cycle just kept repeating itself. Not sure if you can relate to such an epic mom fail? This one was so blatant and public that one of the child sponsorship programs for the conference jokingly offered to make packets with my kids’ faces on them to display on their table. Needless to say, my seminar had less to do with the deep insights I possess as a maternal role model and more about all the ways I am learning to rely on Jesus! What does it take to be a good mom? Is it reading the right books or attending great parenting seminars? These resources can be helpful if they inform us rather than present us with an unrealistic ledger by which to measure our performance. Is the secret finding good role models to emulate? To the degree that they encourage and inspire you, rather than create an image of perfection from which you constantly fall short, they are helpful. The truth is, it doesn’t take much to make us feel inadequate as women, as wives—and especially as moms.

The good news is that being a good mom isn’t something that hinges on superb baking skills or a supernatural ability to keep our cool when our kids are driving us up the wall. Being a good mom begins with throwing out the paradigm of self-sufficiency and put-togetherness; it begins with embracing our humanity, our brokenness and, most importantly, our inability to be a “good mom.” It begins with throwing ourselves in the arms of Jesus and humbly acknowledging our desperate need for grace. When the church at Philippi was first getting started, they were nothing more than a band of struggling followers. As the very first Christian community in Europe, they sought with zeal to be “good Christians,” even though the calling must have felt beyond what they could grasp. It was to this small group of fledgling disciples that Paul wrote this good news: “he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:6). There are a few things to notice about this verse. First, if you belong to God and have trusted the finished work of Jesus for your salvation, God has begun a good work in you. Despite your background, your childhood, and your maternal instinct (or lack thereof), God is committed to making you a great mom.

Reliance on God James 1:17 tells us He is the giver of every good and perfect gift. Every life that has ever begun to grow in a womb and every child placed in a home through foster care or adoption is placed there by God. You are not a mom by mistake, whether you planned your pregnancy or not. God has chosen you to be a mom, and He is working in you to make you a great mom. In order to recognize this work, we must acknowledge that the great mom God is calling us to be may look different from what our culture tells us. Being a great mom doesn’t mean feeding your kids only free-range meat or having the right answers to your five-year-old’s endless list of questions. It doesn’t even mean always making the right decisions about the parties your middle schooler wants to attend. The most outstanding characteristic of a godly mom is a total reliance on God.

I was recently talking to a young couple who are considering having children, but are reticent due to their own dysfunctional families. When they shared their fears of making mistakes and failing as parents, my comforting response was, “Oh, don’t worry! You totally will. You will blow it big time. You’re gonna make so many mistakes and fail in ways you can’t even imagine!” While it probably wasn’t the answer they were looking for, I reminded them that feelings of “not being enough” point to the reality that God doesn’t tell us we have to be enough, because He is enough. As with any endeavor in which God calls us to step out in faith, He never leaves us alone in it. He is with us always.

Surrender to God Second, Paul reminds us that this good work God is doing in us is still in progress. Other translations of Philippians 1:6 use “perform” or “perfect.” Guess who is the one performing and perfecting? Not us, but God the Father. The perfect embodiment of love, grace, wisdom, and every quality we long to exhibit as parents is persevering with us in our failure, continuing to mold us into His image. How does this perfecting take place? Through prayer, by reading His Word, and by building relationships with other moms who are striving to know Him deeper. It begins with letting ourselves off the hook. He doesn’t call us to be perfect; He calls us to be surrendered.

Growing Up Together in Christ Lastly, we must remember that we are both on this journey—as parent and child—to become mature followers of Christ. We were set on this earth not to show our kids what the perfect mom looks like, but to point them toward a perfect Holy God. What will my children learn from me about faith? What will they learn about humility and repentance? I will never forget the first time I had to ask my four-year-old, Josie, for forgiveness. She was eighteen months old and had gone to the upstairs bathroom to wash her hands. Before we knew it, the sink was clogged and there was a stream of water coming out of our downstairs ceiling fan. 19

My reaction? I completely lost my temper, yelled at her, and later had to repent. I asked for her forgiveness and told her that Mommy is still learning how to be a mommy. Most importantly, I told her how thankful I was that God delights in showing grace to all His children, those who do hundreds of dollars of damage to a home and those who respond in anger to their own children. Let go of trying to be a “good mom.” Stop looking to those around you as the standard and start looking

He is doing a good work in you, and that work does not hinge on your faithfulness, but on His. to God the Father as the author and perfecter of your faith.

Let God Change Your Nothing into Something By Anne Williamson

t is very hard to watch new members being added to the church nursery, rejoicing with the proud parents, and never join the club. It’s challenging to always be available for church ministry because

you never have night feedings or need to pick up children from sports or attend school events. And it takes grace to visit birthing centers armed with flowers and gifts as you witness the delight of a new mom while, slowly, your dream child dies.

Hannah’s Heartache The pain and anguish of childlessness is a theme often repeated in the Bible. The private sorrow that pervades every area of one’s life has been experienced by countless generations, and it is as intensely real today as it was in Old Testament times. Consider the story of Hannah in 1 Samuel 1. At a time when a woman’s role was to be a mother, Hannah had no role. She longed to fill her arms with children and her days with the busyness of motherhood. She wanted to love her own little people and see her husband delight in them. Instead, she suffered deep anguish at the hands of Peninnah, her husband’s other wife, who often taunted and provoked her. Hannah knew her husband loved her, but he did not understand her suffering. She had no one to turn to except the Lord. Every year, the family traveled to Shiloh to worship and offer sacrifices at the temple. Hannah went through the same humiliation year after year from her rival, Peninnah. Her thoughts had changed from hoping for a baby to despair that no baby would come. Hannah knew that God was the giver of life and the giver of children. So, in deep anguish, she asked Him for a child. If God were to give her a child, then she wanted to give Him something in return. What precious thing could she give Him? That which the Lord had given her—her child! She would give the child to the Lord’s service, and if the child was 21

to serve in the temple, she would need to have a boy. Hannah’s prayer was thought out and specific— she asked the Lord for a son and promised to give him back in return.

Hannah’s Faith You see, Hannah believed in a God who listened and cared for her—He could be trusted. Maybe her years of unhappiness had driven her to talk often to God. Each time she watched Peninnah go proudly through a pregnancy and birth, she must have turned to God in tears, asking, “Why not me?” But turning to God in anguish had also brought her closer to Him. Peninnah’s cruel behavior didn’t show any evidence she was close to the Lord. She wouldn’t have been a suitable mother for the special man God planned to lead the nation. Hannah regarded God as holy, as the giver of children, food, riches, and honor. She realized justice was in His hands. Hannah was a very suitable mother, and the long wait as a barren wife taught her so much; this was not an accident. God eventually gave Hannah a son, Samuel, and his very name, “asked from God” was a constant reminder that he was a gift from the Lord. Hannah, faithful to her promise to God, took her little boy, her dearly longed for little boy, to the temple and said, “I prayed for this child and the LORD has granted me what I asked of Him. So now I give him to the LORD” (1 Samuel 1:27–28). If Hannah had any misgivings about life at the temple, she kept this to herself. The priest Eli’s sons were a disgrace. He showed no ability to train children well, yet Hannah left Samuel in his care. She trusted God, and she had taught Samuel during those important early years to honor the Lord, to trust in His faithfulness, and above all, to spend his life in God’s service. Hannah’s courage to pray what she did and follow through with her promise is inspiring!

Our Response Was Hannah’s peace dependent on the Lord hearing and answering her prayer? We often pray “according to Thy will,” but are we really prepared to accept whatever God thinks is best? How do you take the pain of nothing and trust in God’s goodness? How do you let go and live with the hurt and still serve 22

God wholeheartedly? While experiencing the pain and hurt of childlessness, could I rest my faith in who God is? God can transform our nothingness into somethingness. He gives us something; He gives His grace and His presence, which are sufficient for each and every day. Like Hannah, in accepting God’s will as the best possible plan for me, I’ve found His peace. In admitting that what I want will never be as satisfying as what He wants for me, and therein lies His peace. In accepting the comfort He offers, lies His healing and hope. Will you yield to the somethingness the Lord has for you today?

Still Relevant, Valued, and Blessed! By Susan A. Vernick

no longer have young children in my home. Rather, I have a home bursting with teenagers and college-aged “children,” and I love it—most of the time! As I approach my mid-forties (okay maybe

a little beyond that), I am often reminded of those “days gone by.” Almost daily on social media and in conversations with my friends, there seems to be this longing for when our children were younger. Those days seem to be missed with an almost tangible grief. Of course, we should cherish the memories of how precious they were and, yes, the problems did seem smaller. Yet we can so quickly forget the challenges and struggles of having little ones. Remember sleep deprivation, constantly being “on-duty,” never going to the bathroom by yourself, and the house often being a mess? Romanticizing those early years can cause us to think that we are currently lacking in value and relevance. The belief that decades of parenting produces experience and wisdom is often lost in a culture that frequently values youth over age. It can feel like we are only blessed and valued when we are raising young children. As we move our children through the nursery, out of the toddler rooms, and into the “youth” groups and classes, we feel it—don’t we? I know I have. However, if we aren’t careful, we can begin to buy into this mindset. We can slip into feeling loss and grief and begin to lose sight of the fact that we are still abundantly blessed, relevant, and valued. Scripture reminds us to value all phases of parenting. Every season has its value and blessings! Deuteronomy 6:6–7 says, “These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.” This command is not age specific; we’re teaching our children all our lives. Although our roles change in terms of involvement, influence, and guidance, we are still par24

enting. We can envision a teenager or young adult walking and talking with their parents about deeper spiritual things in this passage. Isn’t this a beautiful picture? A child of any age can be depicted here. What a privilege this is! We are often tempted to take our eyes off our current situation and to look back at what’s no longer there, to what we don’t have. Oh how dangerous this can be. Didn’t Eve do something similar? She was surrounded by the beauty of the garden, but could only see the fruit she couldn’t have. We as parents are surrounded by the beauty of a growing and aging family—this is God’s design, and raising children takes time. Proverbs 31:28 says, “Her children rise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her.” I don’t know about you, but it has taken years for my children to be mature enough to call me blessed and to express their thanks for me! Focusing on our families as they are in front of us or looking longingly at what was in the past is a choice we need to make. While there is certainly some grief and loss when it comes to moving through the seasons of parenting, it’s important to embrace the journey we’re on so we don’t miss the opportunities before us. We need to have the courage to hold on to the present and be engaged with what is currently going on with our children, however fearful or uncertain we might feel. God promises to guide us and give us wisdom for the moment.

Our families are the greatest and most precious gift God has given us. Remember—they’re a gift, not an idol to be worshipped. Our children will grow into adulthood and

become independent of us; this is part of God’s plan and it is good! We are relevant, valued, and blessed not because of who we are as moms or what we’ve done for our families, but because of who we are in Christ. His death and resurrection brought us into relationship with Him. This gives us meaning, relevance, and value that can never be taken away. What an amazing blessing!

Living a Life of Impact By Lisa Elliott

ack when I was a young mom, running here and there “being all things to all people,” I had an encounter that left a profound impact on my heart. It took place one Sunday morning in the

church foyer between me and an elderly gentleman I highly respected. My children affectionately called him “Papa Murray.” Papa Murray was a man whose loving and gentle spirit shone through his eyes. You could hear his heart beating from across the room. He spoke with a smile. No matter what trials of his own he was facing, or what age or stage he was in, when you asked him how he was he’d say, “I’m at the peak of life!” And everybody knew he believed it! Even at a ripe old age, with great-grandchildren of his own, he weekly volunteered to watch the children in the nursery to give us young moms a break so we could enjoy our ladies’ coffee hour. Talk about being a blessing for the generations to come! He was one of those people who I wanted to be like when I grew up. This particular day, Pappa Murray’s words impacted my heart for eternity. “Lisa,” he said, “I don’t know how you young moms do all you do with all the activities that have you running hither and yon.” “You raised six kids of your own,” I responded, “how did you do it?”

“Things were different back then.

All I know is that God gave us our children to enjoy, not endure!”

There is no doubt in my mind that it was the Lord who met me in the foyer that day. That simple conversation penetrated so quickly and acutely into the depths of my heart, I hardly knew what hit me. It not only changed my attitude toward parenting, it changed my perspective on life! Papa Murray’s words

took on a totally different meaning years later when I found myself at my 19-year-old son’s funeral. As I looked out into the crowd of the thousand-plus people gathered in the high school gymnasium, I spotted none other than Papa Murray. He had traveled several hours and multiple miles to make it to this sad occasion. I made up the distance between us as I ran across the crowded floor, wrapped my arms around his neck, and wept into his shirt sleeve. However, they were not tears of sadness, but rather tears of gratitude. I emotionally recounted the conversation we shared fifteen years earlier—thanking him for stopping me in my tracks that day—preventing me from what could have easily become a lifetime of regret. The interesting thing is, while the conversation I shared with Papa Murray all those years ago is one I’ll never forget, Papa Murray didn’t recall it at all! Neither of us could have foreseen the ripple effect of his words but God Himself. I share this heart-treasured memory anytime I have the opportunity—especially with young moms. Not simply because of the impression Papa Murray’s words left on my heart, but because I believe the principle of his words is worthy of passing on to future generations. It’s one that I communicate with my oldest daughter, who is now a young mother herself. Even as we speak, my daughter has just given birth to my first granddaughter. I can’t wait to get my hands on her! I can’t wait to hold her in my arms and savor every blessed second I have to enjoy her. To embrace every single chance I get to speak of God’s faithfulness and goodness in my life. God has given us life to enjoy, not to endure, and life is too short to miss today! We may never know the impact a brief conversation, a simple word of encouragement, or an impromptu exchange will make in the life of another person. Who is someone you want to be when you grow up? Can you name someone who’s had a profound impact on your life? Perhaps you could be someone like that. How will you impact someone today? What do you want to pass on to future generations? “…so the next generation would know them, even the children yet to be born, and they in turn would tell their children” (Psalm 78:6). 27

Sage Wisdom By Jill Briscoe

Have you ever wondered what to say, Or what to do throughout the day? When faced with children wild and strong, To give advice on right and wrong? Do you, like me, need wisdom’s light, To pierce a dark dilemma’s night? When Solomon had had a dream, And God had come, or so it seemed. And offered him a choice so rare, And told him not to dare or despair. When overwhelmed by life’s demands, To give his way into God’s hands. The Spirit’s wisdom can be ours, When running out of human’s powers However young, however old, He’ll give you words and you’ll be bold, To speak God’s wisdom like the Sage, To benefit your day and age! © Jill Briscoe

Our Authors Jill Briscoe was born in Liverpool, England. She has traveled the globe with her husband, Stuart, in ministry for over 60 years, and has authored over forty books. Jill is the founder of Just Between Us. Ann M. Cook, MSN, RN, is a retired nurse and nursing instructor. She and her husband, Randy, enjoy three grown children, a son-in-law, a daughter-in-law, and five delightful grandchildren. Lisa Elliott is a long-standing contributor to Just Between Us, an award-winning author of three books, and a sought-after speaker. She has four children (one in heaven), a son-inlaw, daughter-in-law, and four grandchildren. Terri Foster is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in Focus on the Family, HomeLife, Today’s Christian Woman, and The Upper Room. She and her husband live in South Carolina. Natalie B. Hall teaches Sunday school and enjoys inspirational writing and painting landscapes. She is happily retired and lives with her husband in North Carolina. Stephanie Seefeldt serves as organist and choirmaster at Zion Episcopal Church in downtown Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, where her husband, Scott, is vicar. She has led worship all over the world and ministered alongside Jill Briscoe, Joni Eareckson Tada, Anne Graham Lotz, and many others. Stephanie is also mom to four children and a new daughter-inlaw. Laura Story is a songwriter, worship leader, author, recording artist, and Bible teacher. She is also a Grammy, Billboard, and Dove Award winner for her songs. She and her husband have four young children. Susan A. Vernick is a seasoned author of two children’s books, Danny’s Special Collection and The Gift Box. She has also written for numerous print and online publications. Susan has an etiquette consulting business with her two daughters and writes an etiquette column for the newspaper along with being featured on local TV. Additionally, she is the wife of a U.S. Army veteran and the mother of four children. She lives in North Chili, New York. Anne Williamson is the author of the Lion book, Having a Baby, and has been involved in writing Bible study materials for the church in Russia. She and her husband have three children

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