My Assignment Has Shifted

I knew my assignment as mama and I didn’t take it lightly. I embraced it with my whole heart. I read the books, asked the questions, paid attention to the details. I showed up with intention, even when I felt unsure. I sacrificed, I guided, I corrected, I cheered, and I prayed so very much.

I am an all-in kind of person.

Motherhood wasn’t something I tried to survive, it has something I treasure. Even the hard parts felt like a privilege. The long nights, the hard conversations, the sacrifices, the moments of stretching and refining… it all matters because they matter.

And for a long time, I was needed for everything: Snacks. Rides. Lost shoes. Last-minute school forms. Questions I could never answer but talked through with them. I was the center of their world in all the small, ordinary, sacred ways. I understood the assignment. And I loved it.

And now…Now the assignment has changed.

My kids are all consider adults and they are truly wonderful. I genuinely enjoy them. I like being with them. I trust them. And I can see clearly—they are stepping into their lives in a way that no longer requires me at the center.

They can make their own appointments. They manage their schedules. They solve problems without immediately calling me (most of the time). They are building lives that don’t revolve around our kitchen table. This is exactly what I raised them to do.

But if I’m honest, it’s a little disorienting to feel the shift. To go from being constantly needed to… intentionally available. To move from hands-on to hands-open. I find myself learning a whole new way to be their mom.

How do I show up without hovering?
How do I stay close without overstepping?
How do I keep the door open without trying to pull them back through it?

This version of motherhood requires something different from me.

More restraint.
More trust.
More prayer than ever before.

Because I could still step in. I often know how to help. I have years of experience and a deep desire to make things easier for them.

But that’s not the assignment anymore.

Now, my role looks like listening more than speaking.
Waiting to be asked (sometimes… I’m still growing here).
Offering encouragement instead of solutions.
Reminding them who they are, not what they should do.

And trusting—really trusting—that what was planted over all those years is still growing.

There is a quiet kind of bravery in this season. In stepping back while staying deeply present. In believing that the love, the consistency, the prayers, and the everyday faithfulness took root.

This isn’t about losing our place in their lives, it’s about redefining it. We are still needed, just differently. I am still the safe place. The soft landing. The steady voice when the world feels loud. The one who believes in them without hesitation.

And maybe this is part of the beauty of it all. To watch them become exactly who they were created to be. To see the fruit of years we invested with open hands.

So here I am, learning this new assignment. Still their mom. Always mom.

Just with a little more space, a little more trust, and a whole lot of love.

The Home Stretch and Finish Line!

My “baby” finished high school last semester.

Not with a big ceremony or a last walk through crowded hallways, but quietly. His classes wrapped up, his books closed, and just like that, the rhythm of high school ended in our home. He’ll still walk in graduation ceremonies in May, but in so many ways, this season has already turned.

And now month, he just turned eighteen.

In 2026, our oldest is getting married, and our youngest is graduating high school. Somehow, all at once, I’m closing one chapter and opening another. My motherhood journey has gently, and quickly, shifted into the season of coaching young adults.

These days, my son’s life looks different than it used to. He’s working to save for college. He’s studying to improve his ACT score. He’s practicing percussion with focus as he prepares to audition for collegiate marching band. There’s a steady purpose about him lately, less little boy, more young man with a sense of purpose and direction.

It feels like the final lap of a race I’ve been running for twenty-two years.

For a long time, motherhood meant hands-on everything. Daily direction. Monitoring schedules. Checking homework. Managing rides, meals, bedtimes, and boundaries. I built worlds for my kids and invited them to live inside them, safe and structured and centered around our family rhythm.

Now the work looks different.

My kids haven’t all moved out of the house, but they have clearly built worlds beyond the ones I created for them. Their friendships, jobs, callings, schedules, and dreams stretch farther than my reach ever could. And with that comes a gentle, but absolute shift in my role.

I’m moving from hands-on mothering to hands-up cheering.
From daily directing to daily connecting.
From monitoring to guiding by invitation.

Instead of managing every step, I get to walk beside them, listen first, pray more, and speak when invited. It’s less about control and more about trust. Trusting the God who loves them even more than I do, and trusting the seeds planted along the way.

This season of motherhood has been mostly beautiful. The role changes with each child, because hearts are different.

One child thrives on affection and responds best to a whispered correction. Another needs space where too much structure feels stifling. In the same home, with the same parents, souls can need completely different approaches. And over the years, we’ve learned together how to love well.

Along the way, I’ve been too harsh sometimes.
Too lenient other times.
Too isolating.
Too inconsistent.

But in every season, I did the very best I knew how to do with what God placed in my hands at the time.

I carry a peaceful hope that love and connection will outweigh my mistakes. I want each of my kids to know I am a safe place, to fall apart, to laugh too hard, to ask hard questions, or to celebrate any accomplishment, big or small. I want them to know there isn’t only one “right” path. That God unfolds plans as we walk, not before we move. 

One of my favorite ways to talk about the future is simple:
Take a step in a direction and allow God to guide.

Scripture says, “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps” (Proverbs 16:9). We don’t need the whole map, just faith for the next step.

And lately, I’ve been watching my final guy take his.

There’s something tender about this last one moving into his next season. I find myself soaking in the glow of watching him move forward with discipline, humility, determination and hope.

I will always treasure the days when their hearts were all mine, the scraped knees, bedtime prayers, carpool talks, and the sweet simplicity of small hands wrapped in mine. Those moments shaped me as much as they shaped them.

But today, I’m also content with where we’ve arrived.

I’m excited about doing life with grown kids. About travel and shared adventures. About coffee dates, cheering sections, and spontaneous plans. About supporting their dreams without carrying their backpacks. About staying connected, not because they need me to manage their lives, but because they want me in them.

As I watch my baby finish his final lap of childhood, I see clearly now, this isn’t an ending. It’s a handoff. From mothering children to walking alongside emerging adults, cheering just as loudly, praying just as fiercely, and loving just as deeply.

I've still got big moments like prom and graduation ceremony just ahead, so there are moments left to mark these final days. The race looks different now, yes. But we will always be running together! 

Granny Hobbies Your Kids WillLove on a Cold Day

Granny Hobbies Your Kids Will Love on a Cold Day

Apparently, our kids and teens are officially cool with doing things that look suspiciously like what our dear grandmothers may have loved.

There is a growing trend among young people to embrace what the internet now calls “granny hobbies.” Knitting, baking, gardening, sewing, journaling. Slow, cozy, hands-on activities that feel calming instead of chaotic. Country artist Emily Ann Roberts even hosts knitting groups, and yes, pop culture royalty is in on it too. Taylor Swift has shared about making sourdough bread when she is home. If it works for her, it can work for my kitchen on a freezing Thursday afternoon.

Why the shift? Because these crafts offer something screens cannot. They give kids sensory satisfaction and real world focus. They provide a mental break from constant digital input. In a world full of notifications, scrolling, and group chats, granny hobbies invite quiet productivity. Kids use their hands, their creativity, and their patience while their minds get a rest.

A movie and popcorn are always fun, but when the cold keeps everyone inside and the walls start feeling closer, these screen-free ideas can turn a long day into a meaningful one.

First, baking. Baking is basically science class with sugar. Let kids measure, pour, stir, and sample. Start with muffins, cookies, banana bread, or homemade pizza dough. Everyone gets a job, and suddenly the kitchen smells like comfort and cooperation. Recently my own 17-year-old started sourdough from scratch and let the concoction mature in his room and then he baked his first loaf! We are all loving it!

Sourdough bread sounds fancy, but kids love the process. There is something magical about feeding a starter and watching dough grow. Let them name it, mix it, shape it, and watch it bake. It teaches patience and responsibility, and if the loaf is imperfect, butter fixes almost everything.

Crochet or knitting feels very granny, but kids are surprisingly drawn to it. Start with finger knitting or chunky yarn and big hooks. Scarves, headbands, or doll blankets work well. It is quiet, focused work that keeps hands busy and minds calm.

Button crafts are another simple win. Grab a jar of buttons and some cardboard or frames. Kids can make mosaics, jewelry, name art, or decorate keepsakes. Sorting, designing, and gluing tiny things feels creative without overwhelming the house.

Fairy gardens in a terrarium add a little wonder to the day. Use a glass jar, soil, moss, pebbles, and tiny figures. Let kids design paths, houses, ponds, and secret corners. Once it is done, they tend to check on their tiny world like responsible landlords. Add these pod creatures for an prehistoric vibe.

And when creativity starts fading, bring out the secret weapon. A complicated Lego set. Not the toddler kind, the big box that looks slightly intimidating. Even our teenagers still love it. They just pretend they do not at first. Then they are on the floor for two hours sorting pieces and solving problems. Legos build focus, patience, teamwork, and give kids something tangible to be proud of when the last brick clicks into place.

What I love most about these slow hobbies is what they do for us moms too. They invite us to pause and to sit instead of rush. To notice flour on noses, yarn on the couch, quiet conversations, and the gift of being together in the same space. Every season of motherhood looks different, but being indoors with our kids has always been part of it, whether they are toddlers underfoot or teenagers pretending they are too cool for crafts.

Sometimes God uses ordinary days to grow something steady in us. A loaf of bread, a knitted row, a Lego tower, a tiny fairy garden. None of it is flashy, but all of it is forming hearts, patience, and connection.

So yes, enjoy the movie and popcorn. But when winter traps us all inside, try a little granny wisdom. You might be surprised what your kids fall in love with, and what your own heart settles into while they do.