Becoming the Mother I Am

I was a stay-at-home mom. My husband worked while I took care of the house and the kids. I drove my sons to all their events. I cheered a lot at everything they did and probably looked happy as I was doing it. From the outside, everything seemed to be in place, but it wasn’t. My marriage was falling apart.

I couldn’t go on pretending. I didn’t want to leave my children, so I moved into the basement of our house, living separate-but-together with my husband. I thought something was terribly wrong with me. I felt empty, and at the same time I sensed something calling me deeper, to be more than a wife and a mom.

In prayer, I asked God to use me. I heard my heart calling me to ministry. I started to sweat, thinking, I can’t do that! In those days online schooling was not an option. I would have to relocate to another state for my ministerial training and essentially leave my sons for two years. My guidance was clear, but I was anything but calm.

Answering the Call

As panicked as I was, I knew I didn’t have a choice. I had defined myself as a wife and mother. Now I could no longer deny the pull I felt to grow beyond those roles and answer the call I felt so strongly. I worried less about how the coming changes would affect me and more about what my prolonged absence would do to my growing boys.

Justin, my 14-year-old, was involved in our church youth program and, while he knew it would be hard, he said he was excited for me. But 10-year-old Garen struggled to understand. He slept near me more often at night and was moody during the day. I could feel how unsure he was. So much was changing already. We hung out together, with me trying to normalize the idea of my moving away.

“Will we talk?” he asked.

“Yes, honey. We’ll talk every day.”

“Who will take care of me?”

“Your dad and our friends. It will be okay. You’ll see.”

I prayed and practiced giving myself over to my inner guidance by letting go and letting God. I felt raw while I was in school, but ultimately, I felt broken-open, vulnerable, and emotionally available in ways I had not been before.

I answered his questions, but it was becoming clear he didn’t have the words for what was really on his mind. I realized he wasn’t worried about who would pick him up from school or help him with homework. It was more than that. He wasn’t ready to be without his mom. He wondered what he would do without my cheers, my hugs, my comfort, without one of the two people who had been a constant, loving presence in his life. My heart ached for him.

And yet, I knew that to be the kind of mother my sons deserved, I had to go. Sacrificing my call to grow spiritually for the sake of my family’s temporary stability wouldn’t serve anyone.

I cried and grieved the loss of my old life. I prayed and practiced giving myself over to my inner guidance by letting go and letting God. I felt raw while I was in school, but ultimately, I felt broken-open, vulnerable, and emotionally available in ways I had not been before.

Through it all, I mothered Justin and Garen. We kept up with each other through phone calls and visited back and forth as often as possible. After a time of struggle and adjustment, my children thrived. My husband and I divorced but stayed deeply committed to co-parenting. Together and apart, we raised two sons who are brave, independent, and creative adults. The stay-at-home mom I was will always be part of me, but I know following my calling was the right thing to do. Even now, my sons tell me my temporary relocation helped us all move forward by creating space for our love to grow across the miles.