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

🌸 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

🌸 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

🌸 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

🌺 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