Finding the Child I Need

There’s a saying I once brushed off in my early years of motherhood: “God doesn’t always give you the child you want—He gives you the child you need.”

Back then, in the thick of temper tantrums, teenage defiance, and long silent dinners, I couldn’t grasp how anything about this struggle was something I needed. I prayed often—not always patiently. I wondered if I was failing. I questioned my worth as a mother.

This Mother’s Day, I find myself not only looking at my son differently but also looking at my own mother with new eyes.

Raising my son wasn’t easy. His journey into young adulthood came with rebellion, harsh words, and an aching silence that stretched for what felt like forever. It broke my heart more times than I can count. I mourned the child I thought I had, the boy I dreamed of when I imagined myself becoming a mother.

But through every tear, I grew.

God was not absent in those years—He was refining me. Peeling away my pride. Teaching me patience not through comfort, but through discomfort. Teaching me love that chooses to stay.

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you…”—Jeremiah 1:5

As my relationship with my son begins to mend—slowly, vulnerably—I am reminded that healing often comes not as a grand gesture, but as a small, quiet miracle. A phone call, even a text returned. A shared memory. A laugh that surprises you both.

And now I see it—my son was never a mistake. He was the mirror I needed to face myself.

His rebellion awakened a memory in me: the way I once slammed doors and challenged my own mother’s wisdom. The way she waited for me with grace, even when I didn’t deserve it. The forgiveness she offered freely.

"Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long…”—Exodus 20:12

I finally understand what it cost her. And how deeply she loved me.

To all the mothers still waiting, still praying, still holding space for healing—I see you. To those grieving children who are distant or struggling, know that the story isn't over. God is still writing.

If you're a scrapbooker or a journaler like me, consider using this season to reflect in art. Create a page not just of the sweet baby days, but of the journey—the lessons, the turning points, the Scriptures that carried you through. Our pages don’t have to be perfect. They just need to be true.

"Love is patient, love is kind… it keeps no record of wrongs."—1 Corinthians 13:4-5

This Mother’s Day, I thank God for the child I needed. And for the mother who loved me when I was that child, too.

With grace and gratitude,

Marilyn