This Mother’s Heart

These past couple of weeks have been full of small, beautiful moments—blessings disguised as paintbrush strokes, power tools, and the tug of a daughter’s hand at a fall festival.

Still, my heart has been heavy with concern for my oldest daughter, Siena, as she navigates the complexities of teenage life and the social layers that come with it. I remember those years so vividly—how each comment from a peer could feel like a roar, how each look could sting or soothe. And I know her road has already been harder than most. Before she came to us, she endured so much. So now, this mother’s heart constantly prays—for her safety, for her choices, for her joy. That she finds friendship rooted in kindness. That she discovers the kind of confidence that doesn’t come from fitting in, but from knowing who she is.

In the midst of these prayers, a quiet grace has unfolded between us. Since Jim was away for a stretch back in September, Siena and I took on a handful of DIY home projects together. I could tell she felt empowered when I handed her a paintbrush and asked for her opinion. Our first project: a marble-effect makeover of my outdated bathroom vanity. It was a bit of a gamble—I’d seen the idea online and figured, why not? If it didn’t turn out well, I’d just replace the counter later.

To my surprise, it turned out beautifully. Siena was meticulous in her efforts, and the two of us made a great team. We even gave the old mirror a fresh coat of paint and added new knobs to the cabinets. It wasn’t just the vanity that was transformed—her confidence seemed to grow, too. She started asking for more projects. She installed curtain rods, helped organize the closets, and then helped me build a filing cabinet for my office and a sideboard cabinet for the dining room. Watching her and Jim later work together to bring my dining room vision to life filled me with joy. They made a great team—one that worked with laughter, patience, and purpose. It reminded me that healing sometimes happens one small project at a time.

Meanwhile, the joy of fall continued to weave itself through our week. All three of us dressed up for the church’s fall festival. Siena went as a cowgirl, Roslynn transformed into an adorable baby fawn (she’s always so creative!), and I, in classic mom-fashion, threw on cat ears and whiskers. Halloween brought new discoveries in our little town—Siena enjoyed an escape room event at her school while Jim, Roslynn, and I explored the local trick-or-treating spots. It was different this year, a little uncertain not knowing exactly where to go, but somehow still sweet and full of learning. Roslynn was creative again in her Stitch costume, and we met kind strangers along the way.

I got the girls’ school pictures last week, and it tugged at me a little. They’re growing so fast. Sometimes it feels like I blink and another year has passed. That ache is constant in a mother’s heart—a prayer on repeat that they stay safe, stay kind, stay whole. That they find joy and belonging. That they continue growing into the beautiful, resilient young women they are meant to be.

So as the days grow shorter and the air colder, I sit here with my morning coffee at my desk in my home office, the dogs snoozing away in their beds around the office, and I reflect on it all. The last couple of weeks were full—of paint-splattered hands, costumes and candy, dinner conversations and whispered prayers. And underneath it all, a quiet but unwavering sense of gratitude.

Because this is motherhood. This is family. This is home.