Altar of Heaven

When I first began diligently teaching my children the Word of God, they were just two and four years old—tiny hands folded in prayer, eager hearts soaking in His truth. Today our son is 19, graduating from boot camp in the United States Army, preparing to serve our country as a linguist. Our daughter, now 17, is preparing to graduate high school while working at the very same preschool where I once served when she was just a toddler. Time is like a river—always flowing, never standing still.

Motherhood has been one of the most rewarding callings God has placed on my life. And now, as I find myself in the middle of a season of transition, I am reminded that I must bend, or I will break. I am deeply grateful for the time I’ve had with my children—for the moments I chose to say “yes” to them and “no” to the distractions that would have pulled me away.

This transition is good. It is healthy. It is necessary. And yet, it is bittersweet. I think of the words Jesus spoke to His disciples in John 16:7:

“…it is for your good that I am going away. Unless I go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send Him to you.”

I see now that it is good for our children to go when their time comes. Their journey forward allows our voices to grow fainter so that the voice of the Father through the Holy Spirit becomes louder and stronger in their lives.

It is good.

Still, transitions often carry a sense of mourning. We mourn what could have been, or we mourn what once was. Yet, God gently reminds us: 

“Sorrow may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)

As we navigate these seasons, we must teach our children an important truth: Life will always bring transitions. People will come and go—through moves, broken relationships, or even passing into glory. Our homes, our jobs, our projects—they will all change. But through it all, one thing remains constant: God never changes. 

Walking through this transition, I find that 70% of my tears are tears of gratitude—thankful for the sacred moments spent in God’s presence with my children, for the times of worship, for the countless prayers whispered together. The remaining 30% is mourning the reality that time cannot stand still. But if time stood still, wouldn’t it become stagnant? Instead, I choose to rejoice, knowing that joy does come and that in His presence, there is fullness of joy (Psalm 16:11).

The unity I share with my children is not just in our home but in Christ. It is as Jesus prayed:

“…that they may be one as we are one.” (John 17:22)

To the Mother in Transition, if you find yourself in a season of transition, I am praying for you. I pray you embrace this time with grace. You are not alone. Give yourself permission to mourn, to feel deeply, to process the changes. If you have other children still at home, walk with them through their emotions too—they may not yet have the words to express their own sense of loss. Be patient. Speak openly. Communicate with your spouse, your friends, and most importantly, with God.

And keep pressing on.

Sixteen years ago today, I met Jesus Christ, and Deuteronomy 6:4-9 was one of the first passages that illuminated my heart—to teach my children diligently. This week, I watch our son step into the world, and in just two months, our daughter will graduate high school. Only the Lord knows the depth of gratitude I carry to be called their mother. Only He knows the strength He has given me for this calling.

I know I am not done; we are just entering a new season. 

But this week, I pause.

I celebrate.

I stack my stones of remembrance—marking this moment with thanksgiving and giving all glory to God.