🌸When Someone Else's Blessing Makes You Question Your Own

Scripture: Psalm 51:10 (KJV)“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.”

Have you ever heard someone's wonderful news, smiled, congratulated them, and genuinely meant it—only to find yourself thinking about it later?

Maybe someone got the job you've been praying for. Someone else's child received an honor while yours is struggling. A friend is celebrating another anniversary, another vacation, another milestone. Someone bought a beautiful home, published a book, started a business, or received an opportunity you've been hoping would come your way.

You're happy for them.

At least you want to be.

But somewhere between celebrating their good news and going about your day, a little thought slips in.

Lord, what about me?

And sometimes that thought turns into something else.

Why her? Why not me?

I don't think we always recognize jealousy or envy when it first shows up. Sometimes it doesn't look like resentment. Sometimes it looks like disappointment. Sometimes it's comparison. Sometimes it's the quiet sadness of watching someone else receive what you've been asking God for.

And sometimes, if we're willing to admit it, we simply don't like seeing someone else get ahead.

That's not particularly comfortable to say out loud, is it?

But God already knows what's in our hearts.

The question is, what are we willing to let Him do about it?

When Comparison Changes Our Perspective

One thing I've noticed about comparison is how quickly it can make us forget what God has already done.

We can be perfectly content with our lives until we see what someone else has.

Suddenly, what was enough yesterday doesn't seem like enough today.

The home we thanked God for feels too small. The work we were grateful to have seems less important. The accomplishments we were proud of begin to lose their shine.

Nothing about our circumstances has changed.

Only what we're comparing them to.

And isn't that something?

We can go from gratitude to dissatisfaction without losing a single blessing.

Proverbs 14:30 reminds us:

“A sound heart is the life of the flesh: but envy the rottenness of the bones.”

Envy doesn't just affect how we see other people. It affects how we experience our own lives.

It can rob us of peace, strain friendships, and make it difficult to appreciate what God is doing right in front of us.

Sometimes the Problem Is Deeper Than Jealousy

I think it's important to ask ourselves what is underneath those feelings.

Are we jealous because someone else has something we want?

Or are we hurting because we've been waiting so long?

Maybe we're disappointed. Maybe we're afraid we've missed our opportunity. Maybe we feel overlooked, forgotten, or left behind.

Those feelings deserve our attention, too.

God doesn't ask us to pretend we're not disappointed. We can tell Him that we're tired of waiting. We can admit that it hurts to watch others move forward while we feel stuck.

But there's a difference between bringing our disappointment to God and allowing it to become resentment toward someone else.

Someone else's answered prayer is not proof that God has forgotten yours.

And another woman's blessing does not diminish your worth.

God's love isn't something we have to compete for.

Lord, Change My Heart

David's prayer in Psalm 51:10 has been on my mind:

“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.”

Notice that David didn't simply ask God to help him behave better.

He asked God to change his heart.

Because we can say all the right things and still carry the wrong spirit.

We can congratulate someone while secretly resenting their success. We can offer a compliment while wishing we had what they have. We can smile on the outside while struggling on the inside.

And sometimes we may need to pray something as simple and honest as:

Father, I don't like what I'm feeling right now. I want to be happy for her, but I'm struggling. Please help me.

I believe that's a prayer God welcomes.

Not because envy is harmless, but because we're bringing Him the very thing that needs to change.

We don't have to clean up our hearts before coming to our Heavenly Father. We come to Him because we need His help.

And the beautiful thing about God is that He doesn't merely tell us to stop being jealous.

He can teach us to become genuinely content, generous, and joyful.

Learning to Celebrate Without Comparing

What would happen if we began looking at other people's blessings differently?

What if, instead of asking, Why not me? we simply said, Thank You, Lord, for what You've done for her?

Not because our own desires no longer matter.

Not because waiting suddenly becomes easy.

But because we trust that God is still at work in our lives, too.

We can celebrate a friend's promotion while continuing to pray about our own career.

We can rejoice over someone else's family milestone while trusting God with the concerns we carry about our children.

We can appreciate another woman's gifts without questioning the value of our own.

And when those jealous thoughts return—and sometimes they will—we can take them right back to our Father.

Changing our hearts may not happen in one prayer. Sometimes God works on us through repeated moments of surrender.

We notice the thought. We acknowledge it. We ask Him for help. And we choose not to feed it.

Little by little, gratitude begins to replace comparison.

And love makes more room for someone else's joy.

A MOMENT to Reflect

Maybe today is a good day to ask ourselves a few questions.

Am I genuinely able to celebrate someone else's good news?

Have I allowed comparison to make me dissatisfied with something I once thanked God for?

Is there a disappointment I've been carrying that I need to talk to my Heavenly Father about?

And perhaps the most important question:

Am I willing to let God change my heart, even when the change needs to begin with me?

We don't have to pretend that jealousy and envy never visit our hearts.

But we don't have to invite them to stay.

A MOMENT in Prayer

Heavenly Father,

You know my heart better than I know it myself.

You see the places where I've compared my life to someone else's, the times I've struggled to celebrate another person's blessings, and the disappointments I've carried quietly.

Forgive me when envy has taken the place of gratitude.

Help me recognize the blessings You've already given me. Teach me to celebrate others without questioning my own worth or Your love for me.

And Father, where jealousy is rooted in hurt, disappointment, or unanswered prayers, please help me bring those feelings to You rather than allowing them to grow into bitterness.

Create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit within me.

Help me trust You with my life while genuinely rejoicing in the good You are doing in someone else's.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

A MOMENT to Remember

You can celebrate what God is doing in someone else's life while trusting Him with what He is still doing in yours.

Every MOMENT Matters.
Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT MOMS
MOMENTMOMS.org

🌸 The New Men-o-Pause — What Our Mothers Never Told Us

“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven.” — Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NKJV)

Last week, I was at my routine dental appointment with my hygienist, Tinishia.

Now normally, having someone flossing and cleaning your teeth is not when you expect to have a deep conversation about womanhood. But somehow, in between the flossing, rinsing, and me trying to answer questions with dental instruments in my mouth, we started talking about menopause.

And I laughed.

Not because menopause is always funny.

But because sometimes when women finally start comparing notes, you realize that things you thought were happening only to you are apparently part of a club nobody told us we were joining.

Tinishia started sharing some of the symptoms she and her friends had experienced.

Night sweats.

Mood swings.

Changes in sex drive.

Feeling hot for absolutely no reasonable reason.

And, of course, the experience of sitting somewhere perfectly respectable—work, dinner, or even church—when suddenly your body decides:

This would be an excellent time to become a furnace.

One minute you are listening to the sermon.

The next minute you are wondering whether anyone would notice if you quietly removed three layers of clothing.

😂

I have been having more of these conversations with women “of a certain age,” and what surprises me is how many of us experienced things years earlier without realizing they could have been connected to perimenopause or menopause.

Some women started much earlier than they expected.

I did.

Looking back, there were nights when I had to change out of my pajamas twice because I had sweated through them.

Twice.

I did not think, Oh, this must be perimenopause.

I thought something along the lines of:

What in the world is wrong with me?

At another point, I remember feeling emotionally unlike myself and wondering whether I was experiencing some strange, very delayed postpartum-type change.

In hindsight, my body may have been beginning a transition that I did not yet have words for.

Nobody had really explained it to me.

And that is what I keep hearing from other women too.

One part of the conversation kept coming back to me:

Why did so many of us know so little about what could happen to our own bodies?

Some of our mothers told us about periods.

Pregnancy.

Having babies.

Maybe “the change.”

But for many of us, menopause was presented almost like a light switch.

Periods stop.

Menopause begins.

The end.

Except apparently there can be quite a bit happening in the hallway between those two rooms. 😂

Sleep can change.

Energy can change.

Our bodies can change.

Our moods may feel different.

Our temperature-control system can apparently resign without giving two weeks’ notice.

Our interest in intimacy may change.

Our hair, skin, concentration, weight, and even the way we feel in our own bodies can shift.

And because every woman experiences this season differently, it can be easy to wonder:

Is this menopause—or am I slowly turning into a sleep-deprived version of She-Hulk? 😂

But underneath the humor is something I think women need to hear.

Our changing bodies are not betraying us.

They are changing.

And change can be uncomfortable, confusing, frustrating, and sometimes deeply emotional.

There can even be grief in realizing that the body we knew so well for years suddenly feels unfamiliar.

But God is not unfamiliar with us.

The God who created us as little girls, walked with us through young adulthood, motherhood, careers, marriages, disappointments, celebrations, and everything in between is still with us in this season too.

Menopause does not make us less feminine.

Less beautiful.

Less useful.

Less desirable.

Less ourselves.

And it certainly does not make us less loved by God.

Maybe part of entering this season with grace is learning to become curious about our bodies instead of immediately criticizing them.

To ask questions.

To talk to our healthcare providers.

To keep track of what we are experiencing instead of assuming we are imagining it.

To ask the questions our mothers may not have known to ask.

To say to another woman, “Wait—you too?”

And sometimes simply to laugh.

Because there is something healing about discovering that the 2:00 a.m. pajama change, the forgotten word that was absolutely in your brain five seconds ago, or the sudden personal heat wave in the middle of Sabbath service may not mean you are falling apart.

It may mean your body is moving through a season that deserves attention, information, patience—and grace.

And I think we should talk about it more.

Not because menopause needs to become the subject of every conversation. 😂

But because women should not have to quietly wonder what is happening to them while sitting next to three other women who are secretly wondering the exact same thing.

There is wisdom in sharing what we have learned.

There is comfort in hearing, “I experienced that too.”

And there is freedom in realizing that growing older does not mean disappearing.

Maybe this is the new Men-o-Pause.

Not simply a time when our bodies force us to pause—

but a season when we intentionally do it.

Pause long enough to listen to our bodies.

Pause long enough to ask better questions.

Pause long enough to stop comparing ourselves to the woman we were at 30.

Pause long enough to appreciate the woman God has carried into this season.

She has lived.

She has learned.

She has survived things.

She has raised people, loved people, lost people, helped people, prayed for people, worked, served, started over, changed her mind, changed her hair, changed her priorities—and apparently changed her thermostat too. 😂

She deserves some grace.

And perhaps she deserves a fan.

A very good fan.

🌸 The MOMENT

Maybe your body has been doing something lately that made you stop and think:

What exactly is happening here?

Instead of beginning with criticism, begin with curiosity.

What have you noticed?

What questions do you want to ask?

What would it look like to care for the woman you are becoming instead of wishing you still felt exactly like the woman you used to be?

And perhaps call another woman “of a certain age.”

You may discover she has been sitting in church trying not to melt too. 😂

🙏 A Prayer for This Season

Father,

Thank You for being present in every season of our lives—even the ones nobody adequately explained to us.

Help us treat our changing bodies with patience instead of criticism and with wisdom instead of fear.

Give us the courage to ask questions, seek appropriate care, listen to what our bodies may be telling us, and extend grace to ourselves when we do not quite feel like ourselves.

Remind us that our worth has never been determined by our age, our weight, our energy level, our appearance, our fertility, or how comfortable we feel in our skin on any particular day.

Help us see ourselves through Your eyes.

And when the night sweats come, the moods swing, or our internal thermostat decides to do whatever it wants…

Lord, please send wisdom.

And maybe a ceiling fan.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen. 😂

🌸 Carry This With You

Your body may be changing, but your value is not.

You are still growing.

Still becoming.

Still beautiful.

Still useful.

Still deeply loved.

And God is still with you in this season.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

When Motherhood Does Not Come the Way You Imagined

Scripture:

“The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart.” — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV)

There are some losses that do not come with a funeral.

No obituary.

No gathering of people bringing food.

Sometimes there is only a woman sitting quietly with the knowledge that the child she hoped to hold will not be in her arms.

I know something about that grief.

I had several miscarriages.

Even now, I can remember what it felt like to hope, to imagine, to wonder who that little person might become—and then to have that hope disappear.

Pregnancy loss can be difficult to explain because sometimes the rest of the world moves on much faster than your heart does.

People may not know what to say.

Some say nothing.

Others try to make you feel better.

“At least you can try again.”

“Everything happens for a reason.”

“Maybe it just was not meant to be.”

Usually people mean well.

But sometimes what a grieving woman needs most is not an explanation.

She needs permission to grieve.

Because you are not only grieving a pregnancy.

You may be grieving the baby you imagined holding.

The name you were considering.

The birthday you calculated.

The little face you wondered about.

The child you had already begun making room for in your heart.

And for some women, the grief becomes even deeper when they realize that biological motherhood may never happen.

That can hurt.

Deeply.

Especially in a world where women are frequently asked:

“When are you going to have a baby?”

“Do you have children?”

“Are you going to try for another one?”

Sometimes people do not realize how much history can be sitting behind a very simple question.

Mother’s Day can hurt.

Pregnancy announcements can hurt.

Baby showers can be both joyful and painful.

You can genuinely celebrate someone else while quietly grieving something you wanted for yourself.

Those feelings can exist in the same heart.

But something else I have learned is that motherhood does not always arrive the way we imagined it would.

For some women, it comes through pregnancy.

For some, through adoption.

For some, fostering.

For others, it may look like helping raise a niece, nephew or grandchild.

Sometimes it is mentoring a young woman who needs someone steady in her life.

Sometimes it is becoming the woman a child calls when she needs advice, prayer, encouragement—or simply a safe place to land.

And sometimes a woman may never have a child of her own at all.

Her life is not therefore empty.

Her womanhood is not incomplete.

And her capacity to nurture, teach, protect, encourage and love is not determined by whether her body was able to give birth.

For me, adoption became part of my story.

But adoption did not erase my miscarriages.

Becoming a mother another way did not mean those babies never mattered.

That distinction is important.

Gratitude does not cancel grief.

And grief does not mean you are ungrateful for the life you have now.

I can be profoundly grateful for the daughter God placed in my life and still acknowledge that there were children I once hoped to carry and raise.

Both are part of my story.

Maybe they are part of yours too.

I wonder how many women we sit beside at church, work with, laugh with, or pass in the grocery store who have quietly carried this kind of grief.

Women who have smiled through baby showers.

Women who have answered uncomfortable questions graciously.

Women who have stood in a Mother’s Day service wondering whether there was a place for them.

Women who have wondered whether something important about being a woman passed them by.

If that is you, I hope you hear this:

Your ability to pour life into someone is bigger than your ability to give birth to someone.

You can pour courage into a child.

You can make someone feel safe.

You can teach.

You can nurture.

You can advocate.

You can listen.

You can show up.

You can love.

And none of that requires us to pretend that the loss did not hurt.

There is room for both.

There is room to say:

I wanted that baby.

I grieved that baby.

I wish my story had been different.

And there is also room to ask:

God, what can love look like through me now?

Not as a replacement.

Not as a way of pretending the loss never happened.

But as another chapter.

Sometimes motherhood comes through the body.

Sometimes it comes through adoption.

Sometimes it comes through an open front door, an extra chair at the table, a phone call from a young person who trusts you, or years of faithfully showing up in someone’s life.

And sometimes the most mothering thing a woman can do is simply become a safe place for another human being.

The path may not look anything like the one you pictured when you were younger.

Mine did not.

But I am learning that a life can hold grief and gratitude, loss and love, what might have been and what God is doing now.

One does not have to erase the other.

Maybe today is simply a MOMENT to remember the women whose motherhood stories came with tears.

And to remind them:

You are seen.
Your losses mattered.
Your love matters.
And your story is still a story worth honoring.

Just wondering…who has mothered, nurtured, guided or poured into your life in a way you will never forget?

Every MOMENT Matters.

Love,
Monica
MOMENTMOMS.org

🌸 What If “One Day” Is Today?

“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” — Psalm 118:24

The other day I realized something about myself.

There is hardly a day that goes by when I do not say some version of:

I will do that later.

When this happens, then I will…

One day.

And I started thinking about how much of my life I have quietly stored away for one day.

I have things in my house that I am saving for a rainy day.

A gift I bought for someone and somehow never gave.

Dishes I am saving for the right holiday or the right gathering.

Clothes I am waiting to wear when I lose a little weight, change my hair, or have somewhere special enough to go.

There are things I want to learn.

Places I want to go.

People I mean to call.

I still tell myself that one day I am going to speak Spanish fluently.

And somewhere along the way, I realized that I have been waiting for “one day” for much of my life.

But what exactly am I waiting for?

I think sometimes we imagine that our real life is going to begin when everything lines up just right.

When we have more time.

When we feel more confident.

When the house looks better.

When our body changes.

When the children are older.

When the money is right.

When life settles down.

Then we will wear it.

Use it.

Learn it.

Visit.

Call.

Celebrate.

Begin.

But life does not always send an announcement saying, This is the day you have been waiting for.

Sometimes the ordinary day we are living right now is the day.

I am here.

I am able.

I am healthy enough to enjoy some things now.

There are people I love who can still receive the gift, hear the words, answer the phone, sit around my table, and make a memory with me.

That matters.

I do not want to keep saving everything good for a version of life that may never look exactly the way I imagined.

Maybe I should use the dishes.

Wear the outfit.

Give the gift.

Make the call.

Start learning the Spanish I keep talking about.

Take the picture before I lose the weight.

Invite someone over before everything in the house is perfect.

Do something with what God has already placed in my hands.

There is wisdom in planning for tomorrow. But I am beginning to see that there is also wisdom in not postponing every bit of joy until tomorrow gets here.

Not the day when everything finally comes together.

This day.

Maybe “one day” is not somewhere out in the distance.

Maybe, for some of the things we keep postponing, one day is today.

Your MOMENT

What have you been saving for “one day”?

Something you own?

Something you want to learn?

Someone you need to call?

A place you want to go?

A part of yourself you keep telling yourself you will enjoy later?

You do not have to change your whole life today.

But maybe choose one thing you have been saving for one day—and bring it into today.

Use it.

Wear it.

Give it.

Call them.

Begin.

Every MOMENT Matters.

🌸 When You and Your Spouse Keep Having the Same Argument

“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another…” — Ephesians 4:32

There are some arguments in marriage that seem to have remarkable staying power.

You can have the conversation on Tuesday, think it is finally settled, and somehow find yourselves right back in the same place two weeks later.

Maybe it is money.

The children.

Household responsibilities.

How much time one of you spends working.

Family boundaries.

Communication.

Something that happened years ago that still finds its way into present-day disagreements.

Sometimes you can recognize the argument almost as soon as it begins.

Here we go again.

And that can be exhausting.

Because eventually you are not only frustrated about the issue.

You are frustrated that you are still having to talk about the issue.

You may start wondering:

Why does he not understand what I am saying?

Why do I have to keep explaining this?

Why does this always turn into the same argument?

And I imagine there are times when he is wondering something very similar about you.

Marriage has a way of putting two people with different histories, habits, personalities, expectations, wounds, and communication styles under the same roof and asking them to build one life together.

That can be beautiful.

It can also be hard.

Sometimes the disagreement on the surface is not actually the deepest issue.

The argument may be about money, but underneath it someone feels insecure.

It may be about chores, but underneath it someone feels unappreciated.

It may be about how much time you spend together, but underneath it someone feels lonely.

It may be about an in-law, but underneath it someone feels unsupported.

Sometimes we keep arguing about the same thing because we have not yet understood what the other person is really trying to say.

And when we are tired, hurt, or already feeling defensive, listening becomes even harder.

We begin preparing our response while the other person is still talking.

We remember every other time this happened.

We reach into the past for evidence.

And before long, a conversation about one issue becomes a trial where both people are presenting exhibits.

That usually does not bring anyone closer.

Ephesians 4 reminds us to make room for kindness, tenderness, and forgiveness.

That does not mean pretending a problem does not exist.

It does not mean swallowing your feelings to keep the peace.

And it certainly does not mean that one spouse should be responsible for fixing everything.

Sometimes love looks like having the difficult conversation.

But perhaps the goal does not always have to be:

Who is right?

Maybe another question is:

What would help us understand each other better this time?

That small shift can change a conversation.

Maybe you need to stop talking for ten minutes before words become cruel.

Maybe you need to say, “I think we are starting the same argument again. Can we slow this down?”

Maybe you need to listen long enough to hear the feeling underneath the complaint.

Maybe there is something you genuinely need to apologize for.

Maybe your spouse does too.

And sometimes the issue may be bigger than what the two of you can untangle alone. Asking a trusted pastor, counselor, or marriage professional for help is not an admission that your marriage has failed. Sometimes it is simply deciding that the relationship matters enough to learn a different way forward.

One thing I have learned about relationships is that repeating the same argument does not necessarily mean there is no love left.

Sometimes it means there is something important that still needs attention.

Something still needs to be heard.

Something still needs to heal.

And perhaps instead of asking God only to change our spouse, there are moments when the prayer becomes:

Lord, show me what You want to change in the way I enter this conversation.

Not because everything is your responsibility.

But because your response is the part you can bring before God.

You may not resolve years of frustration tonight.

But you can choose not to add another wound to it.

You can speak a little softer.

Listen a little longer.

Pray before responding.

And remember that the person sitting across from you is not supposed to be your opponent.

This is someone you once chose.

Someone you still share a life with.

Someone who may be carrying hurts and fears that sound very different when they come out as frustration.

The same argument does not have to keep producing the same ending.

With grace, honesty, humility, and sometimes outside help, a different conversation is still possible.

A MOMENT to Reflect

Before your next difficult conversation, ask yourself:

What do I really want my spouse to understand—not simply what do I want him to admit?

That answer may help you say what is actually on your heart.

A MOMENT Prayer

Father,

You know the places in our marriage where we keep getting stuck.

You know the words we have repeated, the feelings underneath them, and the hurts we do not always know how to explain.

Help me listen without preparing my defense.

Help me speak honestly without being hurtful.

Show me where I need humility, where I need courage, and where I need to extend grace.

Help us remember that we are not enemies trying to win an argument.

We are two imperfect people who still need Your help loving each other well.

Bring wisdom to what we cannot seem to resolve and peace to our home.

Amen.

🌸 A MOMENT to Carry With You

You do not have to keep having the same conversation in the same way.

Sometimes healing begins when just one part of the pattern changes.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

🌸When Your Teenager’s Attitude Hits a Nerve

“So then, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath.” — James 1:19

There are moments in parenting when it is not even what your teenager says.

It is the way they say it.

The sigh.

The eye roll.

The one-word answer.

The tone that seems to say, Why are you even talking to me?

And before you know it, something inside you has been hit.

You may have started the conversation calmly.

Then came the attitude.

And suddenly you are no longer responding only to what happened in that moment. You are responding to the disrespect you felt, the exhaustion you are carrying, the three other things you already asked them to do, and perhaps the thought:

After everything I do for you, why are you talking to me like this?

Teenagers can push buttons they did not even know existed.

And sometimes they know exactly where the buttons are.

But there is something I have had to remind myself about parenting:

I do not have to respond to every moment at the same intensity that it arrives.

Sometimes the wisest thing I can do is not answer immediately.

Not because the behavior is acceptable.

Not because disrespect should be ignored.

But because correction usually goes better when I am responding instead of reacting.

James tells us to be “swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath.”

That is hard when someone has just spoken to you in a way you would never allow from another adult.

But teenagers are still learning.

They are learning how to manage emotions.

How to express frustration.

How to disagree.

How to become independent without treating the people who love them as though they are the enemy.

And while they are learning how to become adults, we are learning something too.

We are learning how to parent a child who is no longer little.

The child who once told you everything may now close the bedroom door.

The child who once wanted your opinion may suddenly seem irritated that you have one.

The child who needed you for almost everything is beginning to push toward a life that will eventually require much less of your supervision.

That change can feel personal even when it is part of growing up.

Still, grace does not mean there are no boundaries.

You can say:

“I want to hear what you have to say, but I am not going to continue this conversation while we are speaking to each other this way.”

You can correct the behavior without attacking the person.

You can address the tone without saying things you will wish you could take back later.

You can take a few minutes and come back to the conversation.

And when you get it wrong—and every parent eventually does—you can apologize.

An apology does not weaken your authority.

Sometimes it teaches your child more about maturity than another lecture ever could.

There will be moments when your teenager needs correction.

There will also be moments when what looks like attitude is covering something else.

Embarrassment.

Pressure.

Friendship problems.

School stress.

Feeling misunderstood.

Trying to figure out where they fit.

None of that makes disrespect acceptable.

But sometimes asking one more question before giving one more speech changes the entire conversation.

“Are you okay?”

“Did something happen today?”

“Do you want to tell me what is really bothering you?”

You may not always get an answer.

But you have opened a door.

And sometimes parenting a teenager is a lot of door-opening.

You correct.

You pray.

You listen.

You set boundaries.

You try again tomorrow.

And you trust that God is working in a child whose story is still being written.

A MOMENT to Reflect

When my teenager’s attitude gets under my skin, what do I want her to learn from the way I respond?

Not just what do I want her to stop doing.

What do I want her to see in me?

A MOMENT Prayer

Father,

You know how deeply I love my child, and You also know the moments when parenting stretches my patience.

Help me slow down before I say something I cannot take back.

Give me wisdom to know when to correct, when to listen, when to wait, and when to ask another question.

Help me address behavior without wounding the heart of the child You have entrusted to me.

And when I get it wrong, give me humility to make it right.

Please keep shaping both of us.

Amen.

🌸 A MOMENT to Carry With You

One difficult conversation does not define your relationship.

You can correct what needs correcting and still leave room for grace.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

🌸 When You Are Caring for Aging Parents and the Roles Begin to Reverse

“Even to your old age, I am He,
And even to gray hairs I will carry you!” — Isaiah 46:4

There is a strange tenderness that comes with realizing your parents are getting older.

For much of your life, they were the ones who knew what to do.

They drove you where you needed to go. They reminded you about appointments. They worried when you were sick. They made decisions, handled problems, and somehow seemed capable of taking care of things you did not even know needed taking care of.

And then, little by little, something changes.

Now you are the one asking, “Did you take your medicine?”

You are driving to the appointment.

You are listening carefully while the doctor speaks.

You are checking the refrigerator, paying attention to the mail, asking about bills, noticing the stairs, watching how they walk, and wondering whether they should still be driving.

Sometimes the change happens gradually.

Sometimes one illness, fall, hospitalization, or diagnosis changes everything almost overnight.

And suddenly you are making decisions for the person who once made decisions for you.

That can be hard on the heart.

Because this is still Mom.

This is still Dad.

You may know that something needs to change while also understanding why they resist it.

They have spent decades making their own choices. They may not want to be reminded that they need help.

And you may not want to be the one telling them.

There can be moments of frustration.

Repeated conversations.

Questions you thought had already been answered.

Appointments they do not want to attend.

Help they insist they do not need.

And underneath your frustration may be something you have not said aloud:

I do not want to lose you.

Sometimes caregiving is not only physically tiring. It carries a quiet kind of grief.

You are watching someone you love change.

You may miss the parent who used to give you advice.

You may wish you could call Mom and have her take care of something for you again.

You may sit with your father and realize that the man who once seemed so strong now needs your arm to steady himself.

Those moments can catch you off guard.

And there may also be guilt.

Guilt because you are tired.

Guilt because you became impatient.

Guilt because part of you wishes someone else would handle the next appointment.

Guilt because you have your own family, work, health, responsibilities, and life that still need your attention.

But loving your parents does not mean you stop being human.

You can be grateful that they are still here and still feel overwhelmed by what caring for them requires.

You can honor them and still need help.

You can love them deeply and still need boundaries.

And you will not make every decision perfectly.

One of the things I love about Isaiah 46:4 is that God does not only speak about the strength we need to carry someone else.

He says:

“I will carry you.”

That promise belongs to your aging parent.

But it belongs to you too.

While you are trying to carry medications, appointments, decisions, worry, responsibilities, and the changing needs of someone you love, God is reminding you:

You are not the only one carrying this family.

He is still God to your mother.

He is still God to your father.

And He is still God to you.

You do not have to know how the entire season will unfold.

You only need grace for the part in front of you today.

A MOMENT to Reflect

What part of caring for your parent feels heaviest right now?

You do not have to solve it in this moment.

Just tell God the truth about it.

A MOMENT Prayer

Father,

Thank You for the people who once cared for me.

It is difficult sometimes to watch them grow older and to realize how much has changed.

Give me patience when I am tired.

Give me wisdom when decisions are difficult.

Help me honor my parent while also recognizing my own limits.

And when I begin to feel as though everything depends on me, remind me that it does not.

You love them even more than I do.

Carry them.

And Father, please carry me too.

Amen.

🌸 A MOMENT to Carry With You

You may be caring for the person who once cared for you.

But you are not carrying this season alone.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

🌸 A Moment For the Caregiver

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28

Caregiving can be an act of deep love.

It can also be exhausting.

Sometimes it looks like sitting beside a hospital bed. Sometimes it is helping a spouse get dressed, taking a parent to another appointment, picking up prescriptions, preparing meals, answering the same question again, or simply making sure someone you love is safe.

A lot of caregiving happens where no one else sees it.

People may ask how your loved one is doing.

They may ask what the doctor said.

They may ask whether things are getting better.

But sometimes no one asks:

How are you doing?

And even when someone does ask, you may not know how to answer.

Because you love the person you are caring for.

You are grateful you can be there.

You would probably do it all over again.

And you are tired.

Those things can all be true at the same time.

You can love someone and still need a break.

You can be thankful and still feel overwhelmed.

You can be strong and still have moments when you want somebody else to make the decisions, answer the phone, prepare the meal, or sit beside the bed for a while.

That does not make you selfish.

It means you are carrying something heavy.

Jesus never asked us to pretend that heavy things are light.

He said,

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden…”

He already knows you are tired.

He knows about the interrupted sleep.

He knows about the worries you do not say aloud.

He knows the decisions you are trying to make.

He knows what it feels like to watch someone you love change.

And He sees the things you do that may never receive a thank-you.

Perhaps today you do not need another list of things you should be doing better.

Maybe you simply need permission to admit:

This is hard.

And maybe your prayer does not need to be long.

It can simply be:

“Lord, I need You today.”

Sometimes rest will look like sleep.

Sometimes it may look like accepting help.

Sometimes it may mean letting someone else handle one thing.

Sometimes it is sitting quietly for ten minutes without answering anybody.

And sometimes rest is simply remembering that while you are caring for someone else, God is still caring for you.

A MOMENT to Reflect

What do you need today that you have been hesitant to admit you need?

You do not have to explain it to anyone.

Just bring it honestly to God.

A MOMENT Prayer

Father,

Thank You for seeing me as I care for someone I love.

You know the parts that are beautiful, and You know the parts that are difficult.

You know when I am tired, worried, frustrated, grateful, afraid, or simply trying to make it through another day.

Help me remember that I do not have to carry everything by myself.

Give me wisdom for what needs my attention today and peace about what can wait.

And remind me that the caregiver needs care too.

Thank You for caring for me while I care for someone else.

Amen.

🌸 A MOMENT to Carry With You

You can love someone deeply and still be tired.

You can be the caregiver and still need care.

And you do not have to carry today alone.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

🌸 When Your Adult Child Chooses Differently

Scripture

“And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins.” — 1 Peter 4:8 (KJV)

There comes a time in motherhood when advice becomes something your child can choose not to take.

That may be one of the hardest adjustments of all.

You can spend years teaching, correcting, praying, setting boundaries and trying to give your child a foundation that will help them make wise decisions.

Then one day, that child is grown.

And the decision is theirs.

They may choose a career you would not have chosen.

A relationship that concerns you.

A different way of raising their own children.

They may handle money differently.

Make decisions about where or how they live that you do not understand.

They may question things you thought were firmly settled.

They may even make choices that conflict with the faith and values you worked hard to teach them.

What does a mother do then?

Because loving an adult child is different from raising one.

There are some things a mother can no longer require.

There are consequences she cannot prevent.

There are lessons she cannot teach on her timetable.

And there are decisions she simply does not get to make anymore.

That does not mean she stops being a mother.

It means motherhood has entered a different season.

I have listened to mothers talk about this season.

Sometimes underneath the concern is fear.

What if this choice hurts my child?

Sometimes it is disappointment.

I thought she knew better.

Sometimes there is confusion.

Where did this come from?

And sometimes there is a quieter question that a mother may be almost afraid to say aloud:

Did I do something wrong?

Maybe that is one of the places where God needs to meet a mother's heart too.

Your adult child's choices are not a final report card on your motherhood.

You can teach well and your child can choose differently.

You can pray faithfully and your child can still make a mistake.

You can create a loving home and raise a child who eventually sees some things differently than you do.

Their ability to choose is part of becoming an adult.

And that leaves a mother with a different kind of work to do.

Not controlling.

Not rescuing every time life becomes uncomfortable.

Not withdrawing love to make a point.

Not turning every conversation into another opportunity to convince them.

Sometimes the work is learning how to remain close without taking over.

That doesn't mean you cannot speak.

Love is not silence.

There may be moments when you need to say:

“I love you. I don't agree with this decision, and I want to be honest about that.”

But what happens after you say it matters too.

Can you still listen?

Can you still have dinner together?

Can you still call just to ask how the day went without bringing the decision into every conversation?

Can your child disagree with you and still know there is a place at your table?

That can be difficult when you believe they are making a mistake.

Because sometimes rescuing looks a lot like love.

Sometimes control disguises itself as concern.

And sometimes withdrawing feels like the only way to communicate how seriously we disagree.

But there is another choice.

We can give our adult children room to experience God for themselves.

God is capable of reaching them without our constant commentary.

He can convict.

He can redirect.

He can teach.

He can close doors.

He can open others.

He can use consequences.

He can send people into their lives.

And He can do something mothers sometimes struggle to do:

He can work on His timetable instead of ours.

That does not mean every choice will eventually become the choice you wanted.

Sometimes the harder surrender is accepting that your grown child may build a life that simply looks different from the one you pictured.

And you may have to ask God to show you the difference between something that is truly harmful and something that is simply different from you.

That distinction matters.

Because the goal was never to raise another version of ourselves.

It was to raise a person who would eventually stand before God with a life, a conscience, choices and a relationship with Him that are her own.

So when you are tempted to chase, control, rescue or withdraw, there may be another prayer to pray:

Father, show me how to love my child well in the life she is actually living—not only in the life I hoped she would choose.

That kind of love does not require agreement.

But it may require trust.

Not only trust in your child.

Trust in God.

🌸 The MOMENT

If your adult child has chosen differently, ask yourself:

Does my child know that my love remains even when my agreement does not?

Then bring the part you cannot control to God.

You do not have to solve your adult child's life.

You can speak truth with love.

You can maintain healthy boundaries.

You can stop rescuing.

You can keep the door open.

And you can pray.

Sometimes the most faithful thing a mother can do is entrust to God the child she can no longer lead by the hand.

🙏 A Prayer for the Mother of an Adult Child

Father, You know this child better than anyone. You know the hopes her mother carried for her, the prayers she has prayed and the things that concern her now.

Give her wisdom to know when to speak and when to listen. Show her where loving has become rescuing, where concern has become control, or where disappointment is tempting her to pull away.

Help her see her child clearly—not only through the decisions she wishes were different.

Give her courage to maintain necessary boundaries without withholding love. When she is afraid, remind her that her child is never beyond Your reach.

And when the life her child chooses looks different from the life she imagined, help her trust You with the parts of the story she cannot write.

Keep the relationship tender enough for conversation, strong enough for truth and covered in Your grace.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

MOMENT: My adult child's choices belong to her. How I love her while she makes them belongs to me.

Pause. Pray. Love without taking over.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

🌸 I Don't Want to Forgive Yet

Scripture

“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.” — Psalm 51:10 (KJV)

There are some prayers that are easier to pray than others.

“Lord, protect my family.”

“Give me wisdom.”

“Help me make the right decision.”

And then there are prayers that catch in my throat because I know what I am asking God to do will require something from me.

Forgiveness can be one of them.

There are hurts we can talk ourselves through fairly quickly. Someone says something thoughtless. Feelings are hurt. An apology comes. We pray about it, talk about it, and eventually we move forward.

But some things cut deeper.

Someone betrayed your trust.

Someone lied about you.

Someone you loved knew exactly where you were vulnerable and hurt you there anyway.

A family member caused a wound that has followed you for years.

A spouse broke something between you that an apology cannot immediately repair.

Someone hurt your child.

Someone never apologized at all.

And then we read the words of Jesus about forgiveness.

We know what Scripture says.

We know what we have been taught.

But somewhere inside, there may still be a very honest response:

Father, I don't want to forgive yet.

I think we sometimes become uncomfortable admitting that to God.

It sounds wrong.

Unspiritual.

Like something a Christian woman should have worked through already.

So we may say the words before our hearts have caught up with them.

“I forgive.”

But underneath those words there may still be anger.

Grief.

Questions.

A desire for the person who hurt us to understand what they did.

Sometimes even a desire for them to hurt a little too.

God already knows.

That is why I don't think healing begins by pretending with Him.

It begins with truth.

Father, this hurt me.

I am angry.

I don't understand why they did this.

Part of me is still waiting for an apology.

Part of me wants justice.

And if I am being completely truthful with You, I am not ready to let this go.

That is an uncomfortable prayer.

But it is an honest one.

And honesty with God gives Him something we often protect from everyone else:

access to the wound.

Forgiveness does not require us to call wrong things right.

It does not erase consequences.

It does not automatically restore trust.

It does not always mean reconciliation.

And it certainly does not require returning to a relationship that is unsafe.

Forgiveness and access are not the same thing.

You can forgive someone and still need boundaries.

You can forgive someone and recognize that the relationship has changed.

You can forgive someone without receiving the apology you deserved.

And sometimes forgiveness is not one dramatic moment when every painful feeling disappears.

Sometimes it begins much smaller.

“Father, I am willing for You to make me willing.”

I love that prayer because it doesn't pretend.

It doesn't ask me to manufacture feelings I do not have.

It simply opens the door.

A little.

Enough for God to begin working.

Because when I hold tightly to what someone did to me, eventually I am carrying more than the memory of what happened.

I may begin carrying the anger into other relationships.

The suspicion.

The defensiveness.

The expectation that someone else will hurt me too.

The wound begins asking people who did not cause it to pay for it.

And I don't want someone else's wrongdoing to keep deciding who I become.

That is where forgiveness begins to look different to me.

It isn't saying:

“What you did doesn't matter.”

It is saying:

“What you did will not have the final word over my heart.”

God will.

I may still remember.

I may still need boundaries.

There may still be consequences.

There may even be days when I have to bring the same hurt back to God because I discovered another piece of it I had not surrendered.

But I can keep bringing it.

Not because the person who hurt me has earned something from me.

Because I want God to have all of me—including the part that still hurts.

🌸 The MOMENT

Maybe you are not ready to pray:

“Father, I forgive them.”

Don't give God words you don't mean.

Start where you really are.

“Father, You know what happened. You know what it did to me. I don't want this hurt to keep living in me. I am not ready yet, but I am willing for You to make me willing.”

And then stay there with Him.

You don't have to force the next sentence.

God already knows it.

🙏 A Prayer When Forgiveness Is Hard

Father, You know what happened, and You know what it cost me. You know the parts I talk about and the parts I have never said aloud.

I confess that I do not want to forgive yet. Part of me is still angry. Part of me still wants answers. Part of me wants the person who hurt me to understand exactly what they did.

I don't want to pretend with You.

So I am bringing You my heart exactly as it is.

Please do in me what I cannot do for myself. Keep bitterness from taking root in places I cannot see. Give me wisdom about boundaries, courage where truth needs to be spoken, and restraint where silence is wiser.

I am not asking You to make what happened acceptable. I am asking You to keep what happened from changing me into someone You never intended me to become.

Father, I am willing for You to make me willing.

Create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit within me.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

🌸 Continue the Conversation

What has God taught you about forgiveness?

MOMENT: Forgiveness does not begin with pretending the hurt no longer matters. Sometimes it begins by letting God into the place where it still does.

Pause. Pray. Be honest. Let God begin there.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

🌸 I Love My Child, but I Cannot Live Her Life

Scripture

“Trust in him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us.” — Psalm 62:8 (KJV)

There was a time when so much of my child's life was mine to manage.

I decided what she ate. What time she went to bed. Where she went. Who cared for her. I scheduled appointments, talked with teachers, bought the clothes, packed what she needed and tried to anticipate problems before they became problems.

When she was little, protecting her often meant doing something.

Then children grow.

And one of the harder parts of motherhood is realizing that the job begins to change before our hearts are completely ready for it.

They have opinions we did not give them.

Friendships we did not choose.

Conversations we are not part of.

Experiences we cannot arrange.

Disappointments we cannot prevent.

Eventually, they will make decisions we would not make.

And that can be frightening when you have spent years believing that part of loving your child means keeping her safe.

I am learning that there comes a point when loving my child also means recognizing where her life begins and mine ends.

That does not mean I stop parenting.

It does not mean I become silent when she needs guidance.

It does not mean I ignore something dangerous or pretend every choice is a good one.

It means I have to remember something that motherhood can make surprisingly difficult to remember:

My child belongs to God before she belongs to me.

I can teach her.

I can pray for her.

I can set boundaries while she is under my care.

I can tell her what I have learned.

I can remind her who she is.

I can create a home where she knows she can come to me.

But I cannot believe for her.

I cannot make every decision for her.

I cannot keep every hurt from reaching her.

I cannot follow her into every room she will ever enter.

And I cannot live her life.

That last one is difficult.

Because sometimes we can see something coming.

We recognize the friendship that may hurt them.

We know what can happen when a decision is made too quickly.

We remember mistakes from our own lives and desperately want to save our children from learning certain lessons the way we had to learn them.

Everything in us wants to reach in and rearrange the pieces.

But there will be moments when our children need something from us that feels much harder than fixing:

They need us to trust God with them.

Not casually.

Not because we have run out of things to do.

But because He can go where we cannot.

God can be with my child in the classroom when I am not there.

He can sit beside her at the lunch table.

He can be present in conversations I will never hear.

He can bring conviction when my words are no longer the words she wants to hear.

He can place people in her life who reinforce what she has been taught at home.

He can protect her in ways I will never know about.

And when she makes mistakes—and she will, because she is human—God can meet her there too.

Maybe part of raising a child is slowly learning to move our hands from holding tightly to holding faithfully.

There is a difference.

Holding tightly says, I have to make sure everything turns out right.

Holding faithfully says, Father, show me what is mine to do, and help me trust You with what is not.

I think I will be learning that prayer for a long time.

Because independence does not arrive all at once.

It comes in little pieces.

The first time they don't want your help.

The first decision they make without asking you.

The first thing they would rather tell a friend.

The first time you realize they have been working something out in their own mind before bringing it to you.

And eventually, the bigger things come too.

Education.

Work.

Relationships.

Marriage.

Faith.

The direction of their lives.

A mother's love does not become smaller as her child's world becomes larger.

But our role has to make room for growth.

And maybe one of the greatest gifts we can give our children is the freedom to become the people God is calling them to be—not simply the people we imagined they would become.

That requires something from us too.

It requires knowing when to speak.

Knowing when to listen.

Knowing when to step in.

Knowing when to step back.

And knowing that stepping back does not mean stepping away.

Sometimes it simply means making room for our children to recognize God's voice for themselves.

🌸 The MOMENT

There may be something in your child's life right now that you wish you could manage for her.

Before you step in, ask God:

“Father, what is mine to do here?”

And then ask the harder question:

“What belongs to You?”

The answer may not always be comfortable.

But motherhood was never meant to make us our children's God.

It gives us the sacred responsibility of helping them know the One who is.

🙏 A Mother's Prayer

Father, thank You for trusting me with the privilege of being her mother. You know how deeply I love her. You also know the places where my love becomes worry and where my desire to protect her makes it difficult for me to loosen my grip.

Give me wisdom to know when she needs my guidance and when she needs room to grow. Help me listen before I correct, pray before I react and speak in ways that keep the door between us open.

Protect her when I cannot. Give her discernment when I am not there to advise her. Surround her with people who will encourage what is good in her. When she makes mistakes, meet her with the same grace and mercy You have given me.

And Father, when I am tempted to take responsibility for things that belong to You, remind me that You love her even more than I do.

Help me raise her with open hands.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

MOMENT: My child needs my love, my guidance and my prayers. She does not need me to live her life.

Pause. Pray. Guide. Trust God with the rest.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

🌸 The Prayer I’m Still Praying

“Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.” — Psalm 27:14 (KJV)

There are prayers I have carried to God more than once.

Not because I believe He did not hear me the first time.

I return because He is my Father, and this is where I take the things that matter to me.

I have prayed for people I love. For direction. For doors to open. For situations to change. For things I cannot fix myself.

And sometimes the answer has not come when I hoped it would.

I am learning that there is a difference between waiting for an answer and waiting with God.

Waiting for an answer can keep my eyes fixed on what has not happened yet.

Waiting with God brings my attention back to Him.

That does not make the prayer less important. It does not mean I stop asking. It means I remember that my relationship with my Father is bigger than the answer I am waiting for.

I can trust Him without understanding His timing.

I can keep praying without allowing the prayer to become the only thing I think about.

I can leave room for God to answer differently than I imagined.

And I can continue receiving the life He has placed in front of me today.

There is still someone to love.

There is still someone who needs encouragement.

There is still laughter in my home.

There is still work worth doing.

There are still ordinary mornings, conversations around the table, phone calls, birthdays, sunsets, Sabbaths, friendships, and quiet moments with God.

These are not distractions from the waiting.

They are part of the life God is giving me while I wait.

Sometimes we can become so focused on what we are asking God to do next that we overlook what He may be doing now.

Perhaps He is strengthening something in us.

Perhaps He is protecting us from something we cannot see.

Perhaps circumstances are being arranged that we know nothing about.

Perhaps the answer will look different from the one we pictured.

And sometimes we simply do not know.

Faith does not require me to know.

It asks me to trust the One who does.

That is difficult for me because I like to know what comes next. I like a plan. I like to understand how the pieces fit together.

But God has not promised to show me every piece.

He has promised me Himself.

So I am learning to bring the prayer to Him and leave a little more of its weight there each time.

Father, this still matters to me.

I still desire an answer.

But I trust You with what I cannot see.

And then I can get up from prayer and tend to the life He has given me.

I can make breakfast.

I can encourage my child.

I can love my family.

I can do today’s work well.

I can call someone who needs to hear my voice.

I can laugh when something is funny.

I can make plans while remaining open to His plans.

I can notice His goodness without feeling as though I have forgotten the thing I am still praying about.

Because waiting on God was never meant to mean stepping away from life until He gives me what I asked for.

Waiting is part of walking with Him.

God’s silence does not mean His absence.

I do not know everything He is doing.

But I know Who I am waiting with.

🌸 The MOMENT

Is there a prayer that has begun to occupy so much of your heart that it is becoming difficult to see what God has placed around you today?

You do not have to stop praying it.

Bring it to your Father again.

And then ask Him:

“Father, while I wait, what would You have me notice today?”

Perhaps the answer for today is not an explanation.

Perhaps it is simply His presence.

🙏 A Prayer While I Wait

Father,

You know what I am waiting for. You know how many times I have brought it to You and how deeply it matters to me.

Teach me how to wait without becoming consumed by what has not happened yet.

Help me recognize Your goodness in the life You have given me today. Strengthen my heart when waiting becomes difficult. Keep me close enough to hear Your guidance and willing enough to follow it.

I trust that You see what I cannot see. I trust Your wisdom. I trust Your love for me.

And most of all, Father, I want to trust You—not only for the answer, but because You are my God.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

MOMENT: I may still be waiting for the answer, but I am not waiting alone.

Pause. Pray. Trust. Keep walking with Him.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

🌸 What Am I Still Holding?

Scripture

“Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts.” — Psalm 139:23 (KJV)

There are prayers I can pray rather easily.

“Lord, protect my family.”

“Lord, guide me.”

“Lord, open the right doors.”

“Lord, bless the people I love.”

But there is another prayer that feels different.

Lord, show me what I have not surrendered to You.

That has been on my heart.

Not what someone else needs to change.
Not what I wish God would fix around me.

What am I still holding?

Because I can love God, pray, read His Word, serve, encourage other people—and still have places in my life where my hands are tightly closed.

Sometimes it is a person.

We say we have given our children to God, but we are still trying to control every decision, protect them from every consequence and write the ending of their story.

Sometimes it is a marriage or another family relationship. We have already decided what healing should look like, what the other person needs to do and how God needs to fix it.

Sometimes it is work. We ask God to lead while quietly hoping He leads us exactly where we have already decided we want to go.

And sometimes what we are holding is not something precious.

Sometimes it is something God has already been asking us to put down.

The eating habits we keep excusing.

The relationship we know does not honor Him.

The need to stay busy because being still makes us uncomfortable.

The conversation that becomes gossip, even though we called it concern.

The resentment we keep rehearsing.

The need to be right.

The need to be needed.

The need to control.

And perhaps that is why surrender can be so difficult.

We usually have a reason for holding on.

Fear.

Love.

Comfort.

Loneliness.

Habit.

Pride.

Uncertainty.

Sometimes we are afraid of what God might ask us to release. Sometimes we are afraid of what will happen once we no longer have our hands on it.

But surrender is not telling God something He does not already know.

It is opening our hands before the One who already knows what is in them.

I am learning that surrender is not one grand prayer we pray once and never have to revisit.

There are things I gave God yesterday that I reached for again this morning.

So perhaps today's prayer does not need to be complicated.

Father, show me my closed hands.

Show me where I am asking You to lead while still insisting on my own way.

Show me what I have renamed, justified or become comfortable carrying.

Show me the people and outcomes I am trying to control.

And give me enough trust in You to loosen my grip.

Not because I do not care.

Because I believe You care even more.

🌸 The MOMENT

Take a quiet minute today and ask yourself:

What am I still holding that I need to surrender to God?

Do not answer for your spouse.

Do not answer for your child.

Do not answer for the person whose choices have been frustrating you.

Answer for you.

Then take it to your Father exactly as it is.

You do not need polished words.

You may simply need an open hand.

🙏 Prayer

Father, I surrender to You what I have been trying to manage without You, what I have been afraid to release to You, and what I already know You have asked me to put down. Search my heart. Show me what I cannot see and what I have chosen not to see. Teach me to trust You with my children, my marriage, my relationships, my work, my habits, my desires, my future—and myself. I do not want to give You only the parts of my life that are easy to surrender. I want You to have all of me. Help me open my hands. In Jesus' name, Amen.

MOMENT: Surrender is not caring less. It is trusting God more.

Pause. Pray. Open your hands. Trust.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

🌸KNOWN

For the woman who wonders whether anyone really sees her

Scripture: Genesis 16:13 (NKJV)
“You-Are-the-God-Who-Sees.”

You can be needed by a lot of people and still feel known by almost no one.

People may know what you do for them.
They know that you will answer the phone.
They know you will remember the birthday, check on the family, make the appointment, solve the problem, pray the prayer, show up when somebody needs you.

But sometimes you wonder:

Does anyone know me?

Not the capable version.
Not the woman who keeps everything moving.
Not the person everyone assumes is fine.

Me.

The woman who gets tired.
The woman who sometimes feels left out.
The woman who has things she does not know how to explain.
The woman who wishes somebody would notice without having to be told.

There is something especially painful about feeling unseen while surrounded by people.

You can sit at a table and feel alone.

You can belong to a family and still feel misunderstood.

You can serve in church, work with people every day, have contacts in your phone and names in your social media feed—and still long for one person who seems to understand what is happening inside you.

Hagar knew something about that.

Her story in Genesis 16 is complicated and painful. She found herself in circumstances she did not choose, mistreated, overwhelmed and eventually alone in the wilderness.

And it was there—in a place where she probably felt forgotten—that God met her.

What moves me most is the name Hagar gave Him:

“You-Are-the-God-Who-Sees.”

She did not simply discover a God who knew where she was geographically.

She discovered a God who saw her.

Her circumstances.
Her hurt.
Her fear.
Her future.

Her.

And I think some of us need that reminder.

God does not only know the polished version of you.

He knows the thought you stopped yourself from saying.

He knows why something hurt more than you admitted.

He knows why you have been quieter lately.

He knows the relationship you wish were different.

He knows the friendship you miss.

He knows what it feels like to be the one who checks on everybody else and sometimes wonders who would notice if you became quiet.

He knows the parts of your story other people misunderstood.

And you do not have to explain yourself perfectly before He understands.

That may be one of the safest things about being with God.

You do not have to perform being okay.

You can sit with Him without preparing the right words.

You can say, Father, I am lonely.

I feel overlooked.

I do not think they understand me.

I am tired of always being the strong one.

I do not even know exactly what I am feeling today.

And none of that makes Him pull away.

This is the Father who already knows.

There are times when God will bring people into our lives who see us well, and those relationships are gifts. We should make room for friendship, community and honest connection.

But even the people who love us most will sometimes misunderstand us.

They are human.

They cannot see every layer.

God can.

And perhaps that is where some healing begins—not in convincing everybody else to finally understand us, but in becoming more comfortable sitting with the One who already does.

Being known by God does not mean loneliness never hurts.

It means loneliness is not evidence that you have been forgotten.

Being overlooked by people does not make you invisible.

Being misunderstood does not change what God knows to be true about you.

And a quiet season does not mean He has stopped paying attention.

Maybe today you do not need to figure anything out.

Maybe this is simply a MOMENT to sit with your Father and let yourself be known.

No long prayer.

No perfect devotional thought.

Just:

“Father, here I am.”

And perhaps for today, that is enough.

A MOMENT to Reflect

Where in my life have I been feeling unseen or misunderstood lately?

Give yourself room to write without trying to make the answer sound spiritual.

Then simply pray:

Father, thank You for seeing me completely. Help me become comfortable bringing the real me into Your presence. When I feel overlooked, lonely or misunderstood, remind me that I am never unknown to You. Teach me to recognize Your presence and Your love even in the quiet places. Amen.

🌸 MOMENT

You may feel overlooked without being unseen.
You may feel misunderstood without being unknown.
Your Heavenly Father knows you—and He still draws near.

Pause. Pray. Be honest. Let yourself be known.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

🌺 You Are Seen, Known, and Loved

Scripture

“Since thou wast precious in my sight, thou hast been honourable, and I have loved thee.”
— Isaiah 43:4, KJV

The Reflection

There is a kind of loneliness that is difficult to explain.

You can be surrounded by people and still feel unseen. You can love deeply and wonder why that love so rarely seems to find its way back to you. You can show up for everyone else while quietly wondering, “Who will show up for me?”

Sometimes that loneliness is tied to loss.

People you thought would be part of your story for years to come are no longer here. A parent. A sibling. A spouse. A friend. Someone whose voice you would give almost anything to hear one more time.

There are empty chairs and familiar dates that do not feel the same anymore. There are moments when you instinctively think, I need to call them, and then remember that you cannot.

And sometimes we grieve more than people.

We grieve the life we thought we would have.

Maybe you imagined marriage and it did not happen, or it did not look the way you expected. Maybe you wanted children and that was not your story. Maybe you pictured a close family, lifelong friendships, a certain career, financial security, or simply having people around you who would love you as thoughtfully as you have loved them.

There are losses we announce.

And there are losses we quietly carry.

Yet somehow, you have continued to give.

You remember birthdays. You check on people. You encourage. You pray. You make the phone call. You notice when someone is struggling. You give your time, your resources, and your heart, sometimes when you could use some of that care yourself.

And when that love is not returned, it can make you question yourself.

Maybe I am too different.

Maybe I do not fit.

Maybe there is something about me people do not understand.

Maybe I will always be the one on the outside looking in.

But today, I want you to pause long enough to hear something that may be difficult to believe when you are hurting:

You are not invisible.

Your value is not determined by how many people recognize it.

Your worth does not rise and fall according to who calls, who remembers, who reciprocates, or who chooses you.

Your life is not less meaningful because it looks different from someone else's.

And you are not incomplete because something you deeply wanted is missing from your story.

You are not God's forgotten daughter.

You are His beloved daughter.

Isaiah 43:4 does not say you are precious because of what you accomplish, how much you give, whether you are married, whether you have children, or whether everybody understands you.

God says:

You are precious in My sight.

There may be people who failed to see you clearly.

There may be people who received your generosity without understanding the heart behind it.

There may even be people whose rejection left you wondering what was wrong with you.

But someone else's inability to recognize your value does not erase your value.

You can be misunderstood and still be deeply loved.

You can be overlooked by people and completely seen by God.

You can grieve what you have lost without believing that your life has lost its purpose.

And perhaps there comes a point when we have to stop asking only,

“Why don't they choose me?”

and begin asking,

“God, how are You teaching me to receive Your love and live fully in the life You have given me?”

You do not have to spend your life proving that you deserve a place at someone else's table.

There is already a place for you at God's.

You are allowed to receive.

You are allowed to need people.

You are allowed to desire friendship and companionship.

You are allowed to acknowledge when a relationship hurts.

You are allowed to recognize when you have been giving from a place that has become empty.

Your generosity is beautiful.

But generosity should not require you to disappear.

God cares about the woman behind the giving.

The woman behind the smile.

The woman behind the strength.

The woman who encourages everybody else and sometimes goes home wishing someone would encourage her.

He sees her.

He sees you.

And He has not forgotten you.

Your story is not over.

There are still moments of joy you have not experienced.

There are still people you have not met.

There are still prayers you have not prayed.

There are still places where your presence will matter.

There are still ways God can use your life to bring comfort, wisdom, compassion, laughter, encouragement, and love into this world.

So do not allow what is missing to become the only thing you see.

Look again.

Your life is still here.

Your heart is still capable of loving.

Your voice still has something to say.

Your presence still matters.

And God is still writing.

You are seen.

You are known.

You are remembered.

You are precious.

You are loved.

Your MOMENT of Truth

What others fail to recognize about me does not determine my worth.

I do not have to be understood by everyone to be valuable.

I do not have to be chosen by everyone to be worthy of love.

I do not have to have the life I imagined to have a meaningful life.

Some losses cannot be replaced.

Some questions may never be completely answered.

But I can still live.

I can still love.

I can still laugh.

I can still hope.

I can still receive.

And I can trust that God sees the whole story, even the chapters no one else understands.

I am not forgotten.

My MOMENT Affirmation

I am seen.

I am known.

I am loved.

I am not incomplete because my life looks different from someone else's.

My losses do not define me.

My relationship status does not define me.

Whether or not I have children does not define me.

Other people's rejection does not define me.

My generosity is a gift, but I am worthy of receiving too.

I do not have to earn my place.

I belong.

I matter.

God has not forgotten me.

There is still purpose in my life, beauty in my story, and room for joy in my future.

My MOMENT Prayer

Dear Heavenly Father,

You know me completely.

You know the parts of my story I rarely talk about. You know the people I miss, the dreams I have grieved, the questions I still carry, and the places in my heart that sometimes feel empty.

You know how often I have given to others while quietly wishing someone would give back to me. You know the times I have felt misunderstood, overlooked, unchosen, or invisible.

Today, Lord, help me see myself through Your eyes.

Remind me that I am precious.

Remind me that I am loved.

Remind me that my life has meaning even when it looks different from what I once imagined.

Heal the places where rejection has caused me to question my worth and the places where grief has made me afraid to hope again.

Help me release the belief that I must constantly give in order to deserve love. Teach me how to receive love, care, friendship, and kindness without feeling that I first have to earn them.

Place people in my life who see me, value me, and love me well. Give me wisdom in my relationships and courage to create healthy boundaries where they are needed.

When loneliness becomes heavy, remind me that I am not alone.

When I miss the people I have lost, hold my heart gently.

When I feel forgotten, remind me that You remember me.

When I feel like the odd one out, remind me that I belong to You.

And when I cannot see what comes next, help me trust that my story is not finished.

Thank You for loving me, not because of what I do, what I give, or what I have accomplished, but because I am Yours.

Help me believe it.

Help me receive it.

Help me live from it.

I am seen. I am known. I am loved.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

Take This MOMENT With You

Before you move on with your day, take a few minutes to sit with what came up for you while reading. You do not have to answer every question. Start with the one that speaks most directly to where you are today.

1. Where in my life have I been feeling unseen, overlooked, or misunderstood?

2. What am I still grieving, whether it is a person, relationship, dream, or life I thought I would have?

3. What do I freely give to others that I need to allow myself to receive too?

4. If I truly believed that I am precious, known, and loved by God, what might change about the way I see myself or live my life?

Finish this sentence:

I am not forgotten because ____________________________________.

A Final MOMENT

Be still for a moment.

Take a slow breath and remind yourself:

I am not invisible.
I am not forgotten.
I am not incomplete.
I am not alone.
I am God's beloved daughter.
And my story is not over.

You do not have to force yourself to feel every word immediately. Just allow yourself to receive them.

You are seen. You are known. You are loved.

Pause. Pray. Receive. Remember.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

🌸Start Where You Are

📖 Scripture

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18

🌸 MOMENT Reflection

Start Where You Are

Sometimes life changes before we are ready for it.

Someone we love dies. A relationship changes. A job ends. A child grows up and needs us differently. Our health, responsibilities, family, finances or plans take a turn we did not expect.

And suddenly, here we are.

That is when the words “begin again” can start to feel different.

They sound hopeful. And they can be.

But telling someone to begin again can feel like a lot when they are still trying to understand what just happened.

A woman who has lost her husband may not be thinking about her “next chapter.” She may be wondering how she is supposed to walk into the house without him.

Someone grieving a parent may be discovering that it does not matter how old you are—you can still feel the absence of being someone's child.

A caregiver whose life has revolved around someone else's needs may not even know what she needs anymore.

And sometimes there has been no major tragedy at all. You just know something has changed.

So maybe beginning again does not always start with a plan.

Maybe it starts with telling the truth about where you are.

God, I am tired.

God, I miss them.

God, I thought my life would look different.

God, I do not know what to do next.

God, I am grateful...and I am still hurting.

Those prayers count too.

Psalm 34:18 does not say God is near only after the brokenhearted have recovered. It says He is near to the brokenhearted.

Right there.

In the middle of it.

I think sometimes we put pressure on ourselves to turn difficult experiences into lessons too quickly. We start looking for the testimony before we have even had time to acknowledge the pain.

But God does not need us to rush.

There are seasons when faith looks like moving forward.

And there are seasons when faith looks like getting out of bed, doing what needs to be done, whispering a prayer and trusting God with the rest of the day.

That is still faith.

Maybe you are standing at the beginning of something you did not choose.

You do not have to erase what came before.

You do not have to know where this is going.

And you certainly do not have to pretend that you are ready when you are not.

Start where you are.

Because you are not starting from nothing.

You are starting from here.

And God is here too.

Take a MOMENT

Before you think about what comes next, ask yourself:

Where am I—really—right now?

What has changed?

What am I carrying?

What do I miss?

What am I afraid to say out loud?

And what do I need from God today—not next month, not next year, but today?

A Prayer

Lord,

You know exactly where I am.

You know what has changed, what I am carrying, what I miss and what I still do not understand.

Help me not to rush myself just because the world keeps moving.

Meet me here.

Give me what I need for today, and when it is time to take another step, help me take it with You.

Amen.

MOMENT: You do not have to be ready for a new beginning to begin.
You are not starting from nothing. You are starting from here.

Pause. Pray. Be honest. Begin.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

🌸What If You Are Already Living Your Purpose?

Scripture

“For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.”
— Ephesians 2:10

THE MOMENT

I have been thinking about purpose lately.

We hear so much about finding our purpose.

What was I created to do?
Am I using my gifts?
Am I making a difference?
Am I doing what God wants me to do with my life?

Those are good questions.

But I wonder if sometimes we make purpose sound like this one big thing hidden somewhere in the future—and if we pray hard enough, plan carefully enough, or finally get our lives together, God will reveal it.

A career.

A ministry.

A business.

A book.

A platform.

Something with a name attached to it.

But what if some of our purpose is much closer than that?

What if we are already living pieces of it?

Maybe purpose was the child you stayed up with last night.

Maybe it was the friend you called because something told you to check on her.

Maybe it was doing your job well when nobody was applauding.

Maybe it was caring for an aging parent when you would rather have been doing something else.

Maybe it was apologizing to your child.

Starting over.

Praying for somebody who will never know you prayed.

Using something you have learned through your own difficult season to make somebody else's road a little easier.

None of those things may ever appear in a biography.

But that does not make them insignificant.

PURPOSE DOES NOT ALWAYS COME WITH A TITLE

I think sometimes we confuse purpose with position.

We think we will finally be walking in our purpose when we get the job, launch the ministry, finish the degree, publish the book, start the organization, or reach some milestone we've been working toward.

And God certainly can use all of those things.

But Scripture says we are God’s workmanship, created for good works He prepared for us to walk in.

I love that Scripture describes it as a walk.

Not arrive.

Not achieve.

Not become famous for.

Walk.

That sounds much more like a life than a destination.

Maybe purpose is something God unfolds as we keep walking with Him.

Some seasons may be very visible.

Others may feel painfully ordinary.

And some seasons may leave us wondering, What in the world am I doing with my life?

But an ordinary season is not necessarily a purposeless one.

MAYBE THE QUESTION CHANGES

Instead of always asking:

“God, what is my purpose?”

Maybe sometimes we ask:

“God, what is my purpose here?”

Here—in this season.

Here—in this home.

Here—in this workplace.

Here—in this relationship.

Here—with these gifts.

Here—with what I have learned.

Here—with the person You have placed in front of me today.

Because I am beginning to believe that purpose is not only about what we accomplish.

It is also about who we become while God is using us.

The patience we develop.

The compassion we gain.

The wisdom we can now share because we've lived through something.

The courage it took to begin again.

The faith we learned when nothing made sense.

Even the detours can become useful in God's hands.

AND PURPOSE CAN CHANGE SHAPE

This matters too.

What God called you to do at 25 may not look exactly like what He is asking of you at 45, 55, or 75.

Motherhood changes.

Careers change.

Relationships change.

Our bodies change.

Our responsibilities change.

Doors close.

Other doors open.

And sometimes the thing that once gave our lives tremendous meaning ends.

That can leave us wondering:

Who am I now?

But perhaps the end of an assignment is not the end of our usefulness.

God is not finished with us simply because a season is finished.

There may still be something to learn.

Something to give.

Someone to encourage.

Someone to teach.

Something to create.

Something to repair.

Something to begin.

Or perhaps, for a while, something to simply be present for.

A MOMENT TO THINK ABOUT

Maybe you don't need to figure out the rest of your life today.

Maybe you don't need a five-year plan for your purpose.

Look at what is already in your hands.

Your experiences.

Your gifts.

Your relationships.

Your story.

Even the parts you would never have chosen.

Then ask:

“Lord, how can You use what I have, where I am, in this season?”

The answer may eventually lead somewhere you never imagined.

But today?

It may simply lead you to the person standing right in front of you.

MOMENT PRAYER

Lord,

Sometimes I spend so much time wondering what I am supposed to do with my life that I miss what You are doing in my life right now.

Help me recognize purpose even when it looks ordinary.

Show me how to use what You have placed in my hands—my gifts, experiences, lessons, relationships, and even the difficult parts of my story.

When one season ends, help me trust You with what comes next.

And when I cannot see the whole plan, give me enough faith to be faithful in the part You have given me today.

Use my life in ways that matter, even when no one else sees them.

Amen.

Your MOMENT

Where might you already be living out your purpose without calling it “purpose”?

THIS WEEK'S MOMENT CHALLENGE

Don't try to figure out your entire calling this week.

Instead, each morning ask:

“God, what have You given me to do today—and who have You given me an opportunity to serve?”

Then pay attention.

The answer may not look impressive.

Do it anyway.

Because perhaps purpose isn't something we're supposed to spend our whole lives chasing.

Maybe it is something we discover while faithfully living the life God has placed in front of us.

Pause. Pray. Notice. Walk.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org

🌸Still His Daughter

My daughter is a daddy’s girl from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

There is a special softness in the way she looks at her father. She knows she is loved. She knows she can call for him. She knows that when Daddy is near, she has his attention, affection and protection.

Sometimes, as I watch them together, I think, She is such a blessed little girl.

My parents were separated for years and eventually divorced when I was young. I did not grow up knowing what it felt like to be a daddy’s girl—not even close. For a long time, I thought that kind of relationship belonged to other daughters.

As I grew older, however, God began to show me something that my childhood had not taught me:

I am a Daddy’s girl too.

Not because my earthly experience was perfect.
Not because the years I missed no longer mattered.
But because I have a Father in heaven who has always known my name.

📖 “You received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, ‘Abba, Father.’”
— Romans 8:15

Abba is a word of closeness. It reminds us that God is not a distant figure watching our lives from far away. Through Christ, we are welcomed into a relationship with Him as beloved daughters.

Some women grew up with fathers who made them feel safe, seen and deeply loved. That is a beautiful gift.

Others grew up with fathers who were absent, emotionally unavailable, inconsistent or unable to give the love their daughters needed. Some are grieving fathers they loved dearly. Others are still healing from relationships that were complicated or painful.

Our stories are not the same.

But the invitation of our heavenly Father is extended to every one of us.

He does not ask us to pretend that an empty place never existed. He meets us there.

📖 “A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy dwelling.”
— Psalm 68:5

God sees the little girl who wondered why her father was not there.

He sees the woman who learned to be strong because she felt she had no one to protect her.

He sees the daughter who is caring for an aging father, grieving a father or trying to forgive one.

And He says, You are still Mine.

You can call for Him.

You can bring Him the questions you never had the opportunity to ask. You can tell Him about the moments that still hurt. You can rest in His presence without earning His attention or competing for His affection.

His love is not inconsistent.

His presence is not temporary.

His promises are not dependent upon your performance.

Watching my daughter with her father reminds me of what a blessing it is for a girl to feel secure in her daddy’s love. But it also reminds me that the deepest security available to any of us comes from knowing that we belong to God.

Whatever your relationship with your earthly father has been, it does not determine your worth as a daughter.

You are known.
You are wanted.
You are protected.
You are loved.

Through our Father in heaven, we can all discover what it means to be held by a faithful Father.

We are still His daughters.

And in the most beautiful and eternal sense, we are all Daddy’s girls.

🌸 Your MOMENT to Reflect

What part of your earthly-father story do you need to place in the hands of your heavenly Father?

🙏🏾 A MOMENT Prayer

Father, thank You for calling me Your daughter. Meet me in the tender places of my story—the memories I cherish and the places that still need healing. Help me receive the love, security and belonging You offer me. Remind me that I do not have to earn Your attention or wonder whether You will remain. Teach me to rest in the truth that I am known, wanted and deeply loved by You. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Pause. Pray. Reflect.
Every moment matters.

Trust God. Let’s Do This.

I recently heard the sweetest story.

Two little sisters, ages four and three, were walking into a new daycare classroom. The three-year-old was struggling with the change. Everything was unfamiliar, and she didn’t want to go.

Her four-year-old sister took her hand and said:

“Trust God. Everything is going to be okay. Let’s do this!”

Four years old.

She couldn’t promise her little sister what was waiting on the other side of that classroom door. She didn’t know whether she would like her teacher, make new friends, or have a good day.

But somehow, she knew enough to say, Trust God.

It made me think about Joshua.

God was leading Joshua and the Israelites into unfamiliar territory. There were things ahead that Joshua couldn't predict or control. Yet God didn't give him every detail about what was coming. He gave him something better:

“Be strong and of good courage… for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”
— Joshua 1:9

The assurance wasn't that everything ahead would be easy.

The assurance was that God would be with him.

I wonder how many of us need that same reminder today.

Maybe you're standing at the door of something new. Maybe you're dealing with a change you didn't ask for. Maybe you know you need to move forward, but part of you would rather stay with what feels familiar.

Faith isn't having all the answers before we walk through the door.

Sometimes faith sounds like:

Trust God.
Take the hand that's reaching for you.
And take the next step.

And I love that she didn't stop at, “Everything is going to be okay.”

She added:

“Let’s do this!”

There comes a point when we have prayed, worried, questioned and thought about something long enough.

Now we have to walk.

Not because we know exactly what will happen.

Because we know Who is walking with us.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding.”
— Proverbs 3:5

🌸 Your MOMENT to Reflect

What change, new beginning, or unfamiliar place are you resisting right now?

Maybe today you don't need to figure everything out.

Maybe you just need to hear the wisdom of a four-year-old:

Trust God.
Everything is going to be okay.
Let’s do this!

Pause. Pray. Reflect. Grow.

🌸When “I’m Sorry” Isn’t Enough

Have you ever heard yourself say something and almost immediately thought, I shouldn't have said that?

That happened to me recently.

I was frustrated with my daughter because she hadn't done something she was supposed to do—or hadn't put the effort into it that I knew she could have.

In the middle of correcting her, I used the word lazy.

And almost immediately, I felt convicted.

Not because I shouldn't have corrected her. She needed correcting.

But I knew I had chosen the wrong word.

I could have said, “You didn't do what you were supposed to do.”

I could have said, “You didn't put enough effort into this.”

Or even, “I know you can do better than what you gave this.”

Those words would have addressed what she did.

Instead, I used a word that could sound like I was describing who she is.

And she's not lazy.

More importantly, that's not a word I want my child carrying around in her head in my voice.

So I apologized.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you lazy. I was frustrated with what you did, but I chose the wrong word. That wasn't fair to you.”

Later, I started thinking about that apology and something occurred to me:

Where in the Bible does someone actually say, “I'm sorry”?

I couldn't immediately think of an example.

What I could think of was something much deeper:

Repentance.

And there's a difference.

We can be sorry because we got caught.

Sorry because someone is upset with us.

Sorry because things became uncomfortable.

We can even be genuinely sorry that someone was hurt.

But repentance asks something more of us:

What am I going to do differently because I recognize that what I did was wrong?

That brought me to the prodigal son.

When he finally came to himself, he decided to go home. He had hurt his father, wasted what he'd been given and made some terrible choices.

But when he returned, he didn't begin with excuses.

He said:

“Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight…” — Luke 15:21

In today's language, I hear:

Dad, I was wrong.

No “but.”

No explanation of what was happening in his life.

No list of things his father might have done differently.

He owned what belonged to him.

That made me think about the way we sometimes apologize to each other.

I'm sorry, but you made me angry.

I'm sorry if you took it the wrong way.

I'm sorry, but that's not what I meant.

I've probably used some version of those myself.

Sometimes the explanation may even be true. Maybe the other person really did hurt us. Maybe they misunderstood our intentions. Maybe there really is another side to the story.

But sometimes we need to let our apology stand on its own.

I was wrong.

I shouldn't have said that.

I can see how my words hurt you.

Please forgive me.

And then there's Zacchaeus.

When Jesus came into his life, Zacchaeus didn't simply feel bad about the people he had wronged. He decided to do something about it.

He said:

“If I have taken any thing from any man by false accusation, I restore him fourfold.” — Luke 19:8

His repentance had feet.

I love that.

Because saying “I'm sorry” can take a few seconds.

Changing the behavior that keeps requiring the apology can take much longer.

For me, repentance in that moment with my daughter isn't simply apologizing for calling her lazy.

It's remembering the next time I'm frustrated to correct what she did without labeling who she is.

That's the change.

And maybe that's the difference between being sorry and being repentant.

🌸The Pause

Maybe there's someone we owe an apology.

A spouse.

A child.

A parent.

A sibling.

A friend.

Someone at church.

Maybe even someone we haven't spoken to in years.

And sometimes we're waiting for them to apologize first because, after all, they weren't completely innocent either.

I understand that.

But what if God isn't asking me to settle their part today?

What if He's asking me about mine?

That doesn't mean taking responsibility for something we didn't do.

It doesn't mean pretending someone else's behavior didn't hurt us.

And it certainly doesn't mean returning to a relationship that is unsafe or unhealthy.

It simply means that when God shows me my part, I don't hide behind theirs.

That's hard.

Especially when we believe we have a pretty good case for why we said what we said or did what we did.

But maybe healing sometimes begins with being willing to say:

I'm sorry.

I was wrong.

Please forgive me.

No “but.”

And then, when possible, living differently enough that our actions begin to say what our words already did.

🌸MOMENT Prayer

Lord, show me my part.

Not everyone else's. Mine.

Help me recognize when my words have wounded someone, even when hurting them wasn't my intention.

Teach me to correct without tearing down, especially with the people I love most.

If there is someone I have hurt, give me the humility to acknowledge it without immediately defending myself. Give me the courage to apologize when I need to, and then help me change whatever needs changing so that my repentance becomes more than words.

And when I am the one who has been hurt, help me leave room for repentance, grace and healing without abandoning wisdom or healthy boundaries.

Thank You for the grace You continue to give me every time I come to You and admit:

“Lord, I was wrong.”

Help me extend that same grace to others.

Amen.

🌸Today’s MOMENT

Is there an apology I need to give without adding a “but” behind it?

And one more question:

Am I correcting someone's behavior—or labeling who they are?

Pause. Pray. Reflect.