Faithful Friday 10
The Strength We Really Need
Happy Friday, friends!
I hope your week has held more mercies than messes—but if not, grab that cup of coffee (or a glass of wine if it’s evening) and settle in for our weekly chat.
A little housekeeping before we dive in. Some of you might remember the Weekly Wash-Up I tried out a few weeks ago. I loved pulling together recipes, mom hacks, and little finds, but doing it every single week felt like too much. So instead of forcing it, I’m pressing pause and reshaping it into a monthly newsletter for my paid subscribers—something more curated, substantial, and easy to savor when it lands in your inbox.
As I keep writing and growing in this space, I want to try new things, see what resonates, and not be afraid to shift if something isn’t working. My hope is that this always feels like a place where you find encouragement and connection, not just email after email of fluff.
With that said, let’s turn the corner into today’s reflection. All week, I’ve been sitting with the idea of strength: what it really means, and how differently I see it now as a mom. Growing up, I always thought verses about strength were about physical endurance, running faster, pushing harder, muscling through. But motherhood has taught me something deeper: the kind of strength I actually need is spiritual. It’s the strength that shows up when I’m overwhelmed, stretched thin, or just plain weary, and it comes only from leaning on God.
I started writing this post earlier this week, and I almost shifted in light of all that happened this week in our country, but I actually think this will resonate loudly for this moment.
Oh, and in case you missed it: click here to see what’s saving my sanity this week!
"Strong" by Anne Wilson.
“I hit my knees with my hands held high
Saying, dear Lord Jesus, you know I can’t do this on my own
I can’t do this on my own
Lord knows I’ve tried, but I’m good at falling down
Thank God You’re good at picking me up off the ground…”
I was driving to pick my boys up from school when this song came on. I actually laughed out loud at that line: “Lord knows I’ve tried, but I’m good at falling down.”
It resonated so deeply. I am not the mom who has it all together! I’m not the Type-A, white-SUV mom with a color-coded schedule, a spotless shirt, or (to my husband’s dismay) a car free of Goldfish crumbs and every ball known to man.
Every single day, I fall short of my own expectations as a mom, and even more so, the expectations I think God has for me. But we have a heavenly Father who cares so much that even though He knows we will fail, He is there every single time to pick us up and dust us off.
We don't have to muscle through. We have to admit we can't do it on our own and surrender.
Because true strength isn't something we earn. It's something we receive. And that’s exactly where our scripture meets us today.
Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
Isaiah 40:28-31
I distinctly remember this verse being painted on the wall above the track in our hometown YMCA. Back then, it felt like a way to inspire people to take one more step, to run one more lap. I completely understand and appreciate the sentiment. I mean, kudos to the Y for having scripture in a place where young (and old) people had to look at it repeatedly :).
But now, with a heart that’s (a little) better at discerning scripture, I see two things more clearly:
First, this isn’t about physical strength. That might get us through a workout, but only God’s strength carries us through fear, anxiety, and the daily weight of motherhood.
Second, we can’t do anything to earn this strength. We can’t push harder, carry more, or endure longer to qualify for it. It’s a gift. A characteristic God possesses and freely gives when we need it and ask for it.
For years, I thought strength meant pushing harder. Motherhood has shown me it means leaning deeper.
Another verse hangs on the wall of my bathroom, beside my vanity mirror. “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). Some precious high school friends sent me this piece of artwork while we were in the midst of Jones’s diagnosis. I love looking at it every morning as I get ready for my day, and it has helped me redefine what strength means, especially in this season of motherhood.
It’s not about doing it all or doing it perfectly (not that I ever could). It’s about remembering that when I fall apart, He’s still got me.
The verses from Isaiah, this one from Corinthians, and so many others sprinkled throughout the Bible point to one true thing: we will never possess the strength on our own to push through everything life throws at us.
And maybe, the strongest thing we can do as moms is to admit our weakness. To fall on our knees before His throne and finally, completely, let God be the One who sustains us.
Okay, I might surprise you with what’s working this week:
Apologizing.
Yep, you read that right. Apologizing.
And I’m not talking about teaching my kids how to apologize. I’m talking about me apologizing to them.
As I’ve mentioned, I am far from the perfect parent. I snap. I get grumpy. I forget library books, and I “accidentally” throw away toilet-paper-roll masterpieces.
It’s easy to think that as the adult, I’m somehow immune from saying I’m sorry. But lately, I’ve started asking myself: What is this teaching them?
It teaches them their feelings don’t matter in that moment. It teaches them to look for excuses not to apologize to each other. And most importantly, it fails to model one of the most important things Christ showed us: asking for forgiveness.
So, this is what’s working: when I know I’ve done something that warrants it, I apologize. At first, they just stared at me, heads tilted, eyes wide. But now? They smile and say, “It’s okay, Mama.”
It’s in that humble, knee-level moment, admitting I’ve fallen short, that I stop trying to muscle through on my own strength. I lean into His. I receive the grace to try again, and in doing so, I give it to them, too.
One note I am adding this morning (Friday): How important to model this to our children in this society?! To model that we don’t always get it right. That it’s okay to be wrong. Forgiveness and apologies should be at the center of who they become.
Lord Jesus,
You are our true source of strength.
We confess our weakness before Your throne, and we rest in the promise that Your grace is sufficient. Let us remember that Your power is made perfect in our weakness.
We come weary, Lord. We feel afraid, disheartened, and anxious about the world our children are growing up in.
Remind us that You have given us a spirit of courage, not fear. Remind us that You placed our children here, in this time, for a purpose.
Help us point them back, again and again, to the only place strength is found: in You. May we encourage them to be brave, knowing the God of the universe is holding them up.
Amen
Until next week, friends, Blair
Because Motherhood is hard. But you? You’re held.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.”
{Mathew 5:7}