Tag Archives: marriage

Grace in the Blended Spaces

Being a stepmom is probably one of the hardest things I have ever done. People look at us as a family and often say we make it look so easy. Those who don’t know us well usually assume that all three children are mine — and are surprised to learn that two out of the three are my stepchildren.

My biggest fear is that women contemplating divorce might look at me and think that starting over isn’t so hard. But it is. Very hard.

Ask any parent — raising children is no easy task. Raising children who aren’t biologically yours brings unique challenges, filled with complexities that require patience, prayer, and perseverance.

The DNA Divide

When my biological child acts out in a certain way, I can almost always recognize myself or his father in his behaviour. That makes it easier to respond with understanding. With a stepchild, however, you only know one half of their DNA intimately. The other half is a mystery. A person known from afar and through comments and conversations with the children.

And that mystery extends beyond genetics — it shapes the way they see the world, how they process emotions, and what triggers them. Learning to love and parent into that unknown space takes humility and grace that only God can supply.

The Parenting Puzzle

Different parenting styles are another ongoing challenge. Establishing rules and consistency at home becomes complicated when the other household operates differently. Sometimes it’s even the small things — what foods are sent along, or what products are introduced — that create disruption. Especially during the younger years, when parents control to a larger extent what children are exposed to. It takes years to discern which battles are worth fighting and which are best surrendered to peace.

In our case, all the children live with us permanently. This means that by default, I am the parent who enforces structure, discipline, and boundaries. Their biological mother, who only sees them during short school holidays, naturally becomes the “fun mom.” When the children are with her, it’s a holiday. When they return, it’s back to real life — homework, chores, rules.

It used to frustrate me deeply. I tried to involve her more with the harder side of parenting, especially as my stepdaughter entered her teenage years. But I quickly learned that words and promises made over a phone call often don’t hold up in reality.

A Promise Before God

Eight years later, I have been raising my stepchildren for three years longer than they lived with their biological mother. Yet she remains their mom — and always will. There were moments when I was ready to give up, but I made a promise to my husband before God — a covenant — that I am determined not to break.

We live in a time when marriage is often treated as a contract rather than a covenant. The sacredness of marriage as designed by God has faded into the background. The world tells women to “choose happiness,” to leave if things get hard. “The children will be fine,” they say.

But those words are far from the truth. When you live in a blended family, you see clearly just how deeply the fracture of divorce runs — and how far it takes us from God’s original design.

A Call to Restore

I’m not saying that it’s impossible to find joy in a second chance. I love my husband. We do life together as a team. But hear me clearly — if there is a way to restore your marriage, fight for it. Seek God first. Pray without ceasing. Do not give up simply because it’s hard.

Unless your life or your children’s lives are in danger, do everything in your power to bring your marriage back under God’s covering. Many marriages fall apart not because of tragedy, but because couples have drifted away from the Word — from God’s plan for unity, love, and stewardship of family. Instead they shifted their focus to the world’s view on marriages. Easy to step into and easy to jump out.

“But at the beginning of creation God ‘made them male and female.’
For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife,
and the two will become one flesh.
So they are no longer two, but one flesh.
Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”
— Mark 10:6–9

Marriage is hard work. It refines you. It teaches humility, forgiveness, and compromise. But when you put God at the centre — truly at the centre — it becomes a space of grace rather than struggle.

When you put an ex-spouse at the centre, chaos reigns.
Choose wisely.

Unfiltered: Smoke Signals

Sharing personal stories with the hope of helping someone else is essentially the purpose of this blog. As well as figuring out this thing called life for myself.

I’ve been going through a rough patch the last few days. It felt like too many personal and work issues collided all at once — pressing on every nerve and fraying every edge.

Physically, I was wiped out by an exceptionally heavy period. The kind that leaves you drained and disoriented. I couldn’t train for the better part of three days. And after almost four weeks of focused, intentional weight training, that felt like failure. Not even a long walk. The movement my body had come to rely on was suddenly unavailable, and it hit me harder than I expected. Blue days followed.

Missing Out

There was a fundraiser at my daughter’s school — a Warrior Race kind of day. Normally I would’ve jumped at the chance to join a team and run, climb, laugh. But not this time. Not with the fatigue and discomfort. We went, stayed for a couple of hours, and left before the fun really began. Another notch up on my scale of frustration.

Back at work, small fires caused by other people’s slackness meant I had to step in and sort things out. Again. The irritation crept in like smoke under a door. I felt used. Taken for granted.

Then Came the Cigarette

But the thing that finally pushed me over the edge was a small, almost cinematic moment. My husband’s new habit of smoking a cigarette before bed.

It started a couple of weeks ago when he casually announced he was going outside for a smoke. I was surprised — this from a man who didn’t even smoke in his twenties. At first, I brushed it off. But now it’s become a thing. He goes out when I’m in the bath, then comes back in, cold and smelling like smoke, being all warm and enamoured with me.

I didn’t want to be harsh or dismissive, but kissing my man after a cigarette just didn’t sit well with me. And worse — it felt like while I was focused on getting strong and healthy, he was sliding in the opposite direction. We were out of sync. I lost it. I asked him what on earth he was thinking starting this now, at his age. His answer was soft: it helps him relax and unwind under the stars.

We talked it through. We resolved it, mostly. But it stirred something deep in me.

“When you share a life with someone, their choices aren’t just theirs anymore.”

When It’s Your Person

If this were a friend, I’d be curious. Maybe concerned. But I wouldn’t be shaken. But this — this is the man I’ve chosen to walk through life with. So no, I can’t just let it go. It’s not about judging. It’s about sharing a life. Sharing teenagers who are watching. A business that depends on both of us being healthy and strong. A future we’ve built brick by brick.

So many questions:
What example are we setting?
Why now?
What is he carrying that I don’t see?

Living with Love and Limits

Today I’m calmer. And I’m sitting with the question: Why did this shake me so deeply?

Maybe it’s the unspoken agreement in marriage — that we will do our best, for the sake of each other and the shared life we’re building. When one of us breaks that rhythm, even in a small way, it feels like a breach. Like something sacred was missed or misunderstood.

Loving someone means wanting the best for them, not just for their sake, but for yours too. Because we’re in it together.

And maybe the deeper question is this:
How do we love fully and unconditionally, while still drawing boundaries that protect us both?

It’s made me think of the families dealing with deeper struggles — addiction, depression, disconnection. This wasn’t that. But the feeling, I imagine, carries a similar weight.

How do we stay soft in the face of disappointment?
How do we hold space without losing ourselves?
How do we speak the truth, without shattering the love?

I don’t have the answers.
But I’m asking the questions.

And for now, that feels like a good place to begin.