Just a Stay-At-Home Mom

Do you ever feel ashamed of this work?

Whenever I’m around professionals, I feel shame prickle my neck and cheeks. As they tell me about their journey from college to working their way to this position they’re currently in, I cringe when the silence comes—because we all know the next question.

“What do you do?” they ask nonchalantly. 

I look down at my feet and rub my neck. “Um, uh… I’m just a stay-at-home mom.”

They wave their hand and assure me that’s a full-time job on its own, but I can’t help but feel humiliated. I think about all the teachers who extolled my grades and my parents who prided themselves on such a “brilliant” daughter who would go on to get an education and a well-paying job. And yet… I’m just a mom. I want plaques on my walls to show my achievements, letters after my name to show my grand knowledge, and signed degrees to make me respected. However… I’m just a mom, doing the lowly work of getting stained by the average meals I cook and folding laundry for the third time today.

Maybe you feel that shame, fellow mom. What do we do? Do we continue to climb and strive, or do we simply learn how to settle? 

Or is there a third option?

Many people put their identity in their education, their career, their ministry, or their special giftings. If we try to introduce a room of people to a new-comer, we point them out by saying, “That’s John, he’s a family doctor… that’s Margret, she’s a beloved music teacher… that’s Tanya, she leads worship beautifully at church.” 

Me? I’m just a stay-at-home mom. What do I excel at? Cleaning up spit-up and changing diapers before the baby pees on me. I can fold a t-shirt with my eyes closed and sweep my kitchen floors better than your robot vacuum. I have no awards, plaques, or framed certificates. I don’t even have a first-aid course. But I can recite my son’s favourite picturebooks to you. 

What do you find in my bio on Instagram? Believer. Stay-at-home mom. That’s all I am. What else is there to say?

Yet we, and most of the world, have wrongly placed our identity. We’ve put our identity and worth into what skills we’ve developed, what titles we’ve been given by others, and what roles we fill. We’ve forgotten a truth the church established hundreds of years ago in a catechism still recited in churches today:

Question One: What is thy only comfort in life and death?

Answer: That I with body and soul, both in life and death, am not my own, but belong unto my faithful Savior Jesus Christ; who, with His precious blood, hath fully satisfied for all my sins, and delivered me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me that without the will of my heavenly Father, not a hair can fall from my head; yea, that all things must be subservient to my salvation, and therefore, by His Holy Spirit, He also assures me of eternal life, and makes me sincerely willing and ready, henceforth, to live unto Him. (emphasis mine)

Not one person belongs to themselves or another human being but belongs solely to God, their Creator and Redeemer. This means that not one of us can define our identity or worth, but can only look to the one who made us and declared us his own. We may feel worthless and identity-less in the world’s eyes, but we can look to our Heavenly Father who imprinted himself upon us with the imago dei, who fills us with the Holy Spirit and saved us by the blood of his Son. 

This identity makes us a servant to his glory (not our own), an equal member of his body, the church, and one brought into an unbreakable union with Christ. 

As O. Alan Noble writes in You Are Not Your Own, “Christ’s body here on earth is the church. When you accept your belonging in Christ and His sacrifice for your sins, you are united with His body. You have a place, a role, a purpose within a community across space and time. Human institutions will come and go, communities will form and disintegrate, congregations will grow and wither—but your union with Christ remains secure” (p. 159). Isn’t this a much better place to find our identity?

The trouble is that this kind of identity doesn’t carry much weight in this world, does it? People’s eyes don’t light up; they never gasp in wonder. They don’t ask further questions—they only smile and nod and look for someone more interesting to talk to. 

That doesn’t help our self-esteem. We want recognition, and there’s a part of me (and maybe you too) that believes you were meant for something greater. You have greater abilities; you could have been a teacher, professor, businesswoman, or doctor. You could have done great things, but now all that people see are a train of children behind you and a mom with stains on her clothes that she got on the way out the door.

While Scripture has much to say about pride, this story illustrates the contrasts between humility and pride beautifully:

The Bible tells a story about David, Saul, and Jonathan. God rejected Saul’s kingship; Saul had disobeyed, and Saul sought his own glory and wanted to do things his own way. In God’s rejection of Saul, God sent Samuel to anoint a new king to come after Saul rather than choosing from Saul’s own family line. The Lord chose David, and as soon as Saul realized it, he made it his personal mission to kill David. Again, Saul fought for his own glory. Yet Jonathan, Saul’s son, was David’s best friend. Which would Jonathan choose: being king or serving his beloved companion?

“And [Jonathan] said to him, ‘Do not fear, for the hand of Saul my father shall not find you. You shall be king over Israel, and I shall be next to you. Saul my father also knows this.’ And the two of them made a covenant before the Lord. David remained at Horesh, and Jonathan went home” (1 Sam. 23:17–18).

Jonathan, who would have followed in kingship after his father, had a different perspective. He loved David, and he loved God even more. He knew David would be king, and in recognition, he stripped himself of his royal armour and gave it to David (1 Sam. 18:1–5). Jonathan saw who God had chosen and submitted to David—and ultimately to God.

Saul battled God’s will and pursued David in a feeble attempt to keep his own glory. Despite God’s obvious choice of David and rejection of himself, Saul would fight for his own glory to his death. Yet Jonathan gave up his own glory he could have received as king. He humbly submitted to God’s choice of David and trusted that salvation would come through him.

Whose glory will we strive for, fellow stay-at-home mom? Will we strive for our own glory like Saul? Or will we strive for Christ’s glory, found in our God-given identity? Will we resign every could-be and could-have-been and all the accolades we may have received on bended knee to the One who called us to this humble job? Will we trust and find contentment in the everlasting identity Christ bestowed upon us… or forever live in striving?

RESOURCES FOR FURTHER STUDY:

• An Interview with Lara d'Entremont, Homemaker and Author by

  Ivana Greco

• The Worthy Work of the Stay-at-Home Mom by Lara d’Entremont

• You Are Not Your Own by O. Alan Noble