Reclaiming Motherhood

I’m learning a motherhood that was never taught to me.
It’s one I’ve only experienced in glimpses: brief, fleeting moments that felt like home. I’ve consumed plenty contrived versions of it; filtered through the glow of a phone screen, or splashed across glossy magazine pages. The kind of motherhood I long for feels sacred and familiar, yet somehow new. It’s not the kind I inherited, but the kind God is patiently teaching me to build, one small obedient step at a time.

I’m not exactly here to write about this for myself. I have plenty of journals, notebooks, and half-filled pages tucked into every crevice of my home. Evidence of all my hopes, strivings, and the quiet conversations I carry with God.
This space is something different.
It’s a message of hope, of renewal, and spiritual growth. It’s an invitation into your heart space, into a deeper place than you may have been before.
It’s not a place that can be known by study or achievement, but one that must be shown—slowly, by grace, through surrender.

This process isn’t something I’ve already mastered. It’s something I’m living, here and now. I’m learning as I go, trusting God to author through me: in my words, in my home, in the hidden rhythms of motherhood, and in my heart and mind. I have continually been left in awe and gratitude as I witness his teaching and spirit flowing through me.

The space I hope to allow Him to build through me is one of His order and beauty.
There is such perfection in the design of His ways. His ask of us is simple, though not always easy: Obedience. Through our willingness to yield and follow, He allows us to experience glimpses of Heaven on earth.

We are His children, learning and growing painstakingly—sometimes painfully—each day. He waits for us there, not in frustration or impatience, but with compassion, patience, and joy. He delights in guiding us, in watching us become.

Sometimes I think that part, His tenderness, is missing from how Scripture reads. Women were not able to write at the time of Jesus, so the men who wrote the Bible did so faithfully and reverently, but with the honest mistake of not being whole; missing what a woman lends: Feeling. Warmth. Beauty. The half of God’s image that is a woman’s to bear.

The small, human details of Jesus: His laughter, His gentleness, the way His presence felt when He looked into someone’s eyes.
That, I believe, is where women’s hearts and voices help complete the picture: by filling in the feeling of faith, the nurturing from the Lord, and the sacred ordinary that breathes between the verses.

That’s what I long to do here.
To light a path for other young women, journeying alongside them into the art and beauty of homemaking.
To rediscover what it means to love our husbands and children above ourselves, to order our homes as though preparing them for eternal everlasting within the Kingdom—because, truly, that is exactly what we are doing.

It’s not about perfection, or performance, or the illusion of a spotless home. It’s about creating spaces where love dwells freely. It’s about establishing rhythms of work and rest, tending to the sacredness of daily tasks, and through business, trade, and creative affairs, finding ways to strengthen the well-being of our families.

I’m still in the thick of it.
I’ve never succeeded in these things by my own strength. But through the Lord’s gentle guidance and the quiet strengthening that comes as I have finally learned to ask Him for help, new clarity and action are beginning to take hold. The effects are subtle yet immediate: a softened heart, a renewed focus, a peace that lingers even in the undone places. In the literal sense, clutter is finally clearing, organization is beginning to feel effortless, and beauty and respite is settling into every corner of our home.

I want to share what I’m learning along the way. Not once I’ve “arrived,” but right here: in the middle of becoming. I want to show the process, the vulnerability, the mess, the heartbreak. The moments of feeling utterly lost, forgotten, or even forsaken — and the light that still comes in the morning.
Because it always comes.

Not just for you, but for me too.

I want to learn everything from the space of a fresh heart. From the most practical things, like the best way to scrub a toilet, to the most tender, like creating an atmosphere of peace, openness, and quiet joy.
The kind that makes a home hum with love.
The kind of home you walk into and never want to leave.
The kind of family that feels like a once-in-a-lifetime grace.

I know that’s what God wants to build in all of us, if we let Him.
One small, faithful act of homemaking, motherhood, and surrender at a time.

I would love for you to join me.