I Wasn’t Raised This Way — and That’s the Point

One of my favorite ministries I have ever been part of was the Ladies Jail Ministry. I’ve shared with the women there many times, “But for the grace of God, I would be sitting right alongside you.”

I recognize these women – not by name or face, but by their stories.

Trauma? Yep, I know that one.
Abuse? Oh yes – me too.
Drugs and alcohol? Daily.

The stories I hear from them are already etched into my memory from my own childhood.

One Sunday afternoon, I was talking with a young pregnant woman in jail and asked if I could pray for her. She was only 19 years old. She asked me to pray for her children – she was pregnant with her fifth child and had four more at home.

As we talked, I learned that this was normal in her family. Her mom was the same way. So were her sisters. Generation after generation.

In my first blog, I shared that my childhood was less than ideal. For many years, I believed my mom was simply a bad mom – and I resented her deeply for it. How could she have allowed so much to happen? How could she have looked the other way? What I’ve come to understand is that she was continuing a cycle of dysfunction.

Just like the women in jail – and just like me at one time – many people don’t know any other way of life. The idea of a happy family with a mom and a dad, laughter around the dinner table, and a sense of safety felt like something that only existed in movies and TV sitcoms, definitely not real life.

That’s certainly what I believed. The friends I grew up with all lived the same way. Don’t get me wrong – I’m sure there were healthy families somewhere in my neighborhood. I just didn’t know them.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned more about my mom and her childhood. My grandmother was my hero. I loved her with my whole heart. Her lap was mine at Christmas. She hugged me every time she saw me. She didn’t look through me…she talked to me, smiled at me, and truly listened. When things got bad, she didn’t look away. She offered me sanctuary (one I was too stubborn or too young to accept at the time).

What I didn’t understand then was that I got the good version of my grandmother. The version who had grown, learned, and figured out how to love. My mom got the version that was still trying to survive and make sense of life. My mom’s relationship with her mother was complicated. I could analyze it from every psychological angle, but instead I’ll stick to what I know to be true in my own life.

From my childhood, one thing was clear: I wanted something different for my family.

I wanted to be present for my kids. I wanted a big family – loud, messy, and filled with love. I imagined a perfect little family someday: a mom, a dad, no problems. There was just one issue…I had no idea how to build that kind of life. At that point, I didn’t even understand my salvation or the presence of the Holy Spirit in my life. That realization came later and is a story for another day.

My first son, Jason – he is my heart. My first true love. He was also the one who experienced the most broken version of me. I was still full of pain, confusion, and unresolved trauma, and I got many things wrong while raising him. My words weren’t always kind. I wasn’t always present. Even now, thinking about who I was back then still hurts.

I’ve often said I wouldn’t go back and change anything because it shaped who I am today. And while I don’t dwell in the past, if I could change one thing, it would be this: I wish I had known how to love better so I didn’t wound the son I love with my whole heart. He, too, has had to learn how to break cycles of dysfunction.

With my other children – those we gave birth to and those we adopted or fostered – I was able to get a few more things right. Not everything (that’s a whole other set of stories! 😂), but more.

So how did I move from broken and dysfunctional to genuinely grateful, able to love and be loved? I invited God into my life and began seeking Him and His Word.

If you’re like me – someone who had a difficult childhood but longs for something different for your children – here are a few things I’ve learned along the way:

1. Realize God doesn’t make mistakes.

I used to beat myself up thinking my kids deserved a better mom. But God gave them me for a reason. Just like He gave me my own mother. I wouldn’t choose many of the events of my past, but I allowed them to make me better, not bitter.

I didn’t get it right in the beginning, especially with Jas. But the closer I grew to God, the easier it became. I surrounded myself with people whose lives I admired and quietly studied how they lived. (I was still too prideful to ask for help—another lesson learned the hard way!). Psalm 18:30 says “His way is perfect”

2. Forgiveness is not an option – it is a necessity.

Not just forgiving others, but forgiving yourself.

This one is hard. Trust me…I’m still working on it. Forgiving myself has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. I haven’t arrived, but I try every day. I remind myself that God’s plan included my mistakes. I didn’t surprise Him. He created me. And while some people talk about “footprints in the sand,” I’m pretty sure my story includes drag marks – God pulling me forward when I wanted to stay stuck in shame. Eph. 4:32, “…forgiving one another as God in Christ forgave you.”

3. Apologize when you get it wrong.

Change doesn’t happen overnight. I had many setbacks. But learning to apologize – to my children especially – has been vital. I am not a perfect parent (my kids will gladly confirm that! 😂). Parenting is hard even in the best circumstances. But apologizing teaches humility, models accountability, and shows our children what grace looks like in action. Col. 3:13

4. Get connected to a Bible-believing church.

Influence matters. The wrong influences helped create the chaos I grew up in, but the right influences reshaped my future, and my children’s. I can say with absolute certainty that my kids would not be who they are today without our church family and the people who prayed with us and for us.

5. Pray—specifically.

I’ve learned to pray very intentionally. I ask God to help me be the mom that each of my children needs. All five of them are incredibly different. Some need comfort. Some need firmness. Some need both – and then some. God can do infinitely more with a surrendered heart than I could ever do on my own. Phil 4:6, 1 Thess. 5:17