Loneliness in motherhood is an opportunity to draw near to God in faith and trust him to provide the community we need—even if it’s different than we expected.

When we feel the loneliness and uncertainty of being a newcomer, the gospel reminds us that friendship is a good gift—created, redeemed, and restored by our God.

Grief can make way for a deeper experience of gospel hope this Christmas season, as we hold tight to Immanuel—God with us.

As we connect with others in gospel friendship, we reflect the love of the triune God who made us for relationship.

When we’re willing to make the first move in friendship, we can reflect the love and pursuit of our ultimate friend, Jesus.

No matter how wonderful our marriage may be, our deepest need for connection can only be satisfied in the Lord.

In an exhausting season when we give so much to care for our little ones, we have this hope and comfort—our Gentle Shepherd is leading us and carrying us close to his heart.

Though much of our daily life may be marked by change and challenges, our ultimate hope and purpose in motherhood remains the same—even in a pandemic. We can live faithfully in this season as we depend on the Lord and point our children to him.

We often desire to be seen and noticed, but when we’re hidden from others we may find the blessing of seeing the Lord more clearly.

I remember the first time I ever saw my husband with a baby. I found myself in a daydream in that moment, as love struck young women do, of what it would be like to raise a family with this kind, servant-hearted, steady man.

The daydream crumbled shortly after we came home from the hospital with our newborn son four years later.

Those first few weeks were really difficult. Caring for our child came much more naturally to me. Gradually, I started to just do things myself instead of asking for help because it was easier that way, but it didn't stop resentment from growing in my heart. I had looked forward to all the ways that parenthood would make us closer and more in love, but those first few months were nothing like I had imagined.

It was so much lonelier.

I wish I could sit down for coffee with that grieving, disillusioned mama and offer her the encouragement in this article, but instead, I pray that if you are struggling the way that I was in that first year, that this article would meet you in that place and offer hope.

Your Father sees, hears, and knows.

Your Father has given you all that you need.

Your Father is sovereign over this season.

Your Father is able to change hearts.

So this Father’s Day, if you have experienced something similar, celebrate your husband for what he is: the father of your children.

Reach deeply for the things he is doing well. Encourage him with the ways that you see God working in him and through him.Tell him that you know what a great responsibility it is and how much of a challenge it is and how you are committed to supporting him and praying for him.

Most of all, feel the blessing of your heavenly Father loving you not according to what you have done, but because of who you are in Christ, and extend that same patience, grace, and favor to your spouse.

Six years ago, I went to bed happily married and woke up a widow and single mom to seven.

In the dark hours of that Friday morning, I groggily woke to my husband’s breathing. I reached over with my eyes still closed to nudge him and wake him out of it. He didn’t respond and as I slowly became more aware of what was happening.

Dan was taken by ambulance to the ER and I ran upstairs to pray with my kids before heading to the hospital. Everything in me wanted to assure them it would be alright and Daddy would be okay.

But I couldn’t make that promise. And before the sun was fully up that morning, I walked back through the door from the hospital to tell them their dad had passed away.

Being a single mom was nowhere in the range of possible plans for me.

The stark reminders that I was now a single mom were everywhere. When I signed my kids up for camp or basketball or vacation Bible school, I put N/A in the space for spouse’s information. When my daughter graduated high school and my son was honored midfield for football, I stood with them alone.

But once I was stripped of those expectations, I could see what was really true. While my earthly identity as a wife has changed, my eternal identity as a child of God hasn’t.

Oh, how I miss the insight Dan always provided when we hit a parenting hurdle. But the source of all wisdom hasn’t changed. God promises that ‘if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.’

While Dan is no longer here to work and bring home a salary for our family, the source of all provision hasn’t changed. God promises to meet our needs.

While I no longer have Dan’s prudence and experience to help me make decisions, the source of true guidance hasn’t changed.

God promises abundant life and joy, and that promise holds whether I am married or single; in the throes of raising kids or preening an empty nest; working outside the home or at home full time.

While the circumstances may have shifted, the source of abundance and the reason for joy hasn’t.

“Is your husband out of town this week?” she asked.

“Yes. All week. Is yours?” I responded. She nodded.

“Want to come over for dinner?” I asked.

Motherhood is hard enough on a good day. What with the constant multi-tasking, unexpected illnesses, endless pile of laundry, the refereeing of squabbles, teaching the same lessons over and over again, all while trying to keep up with the daily responsibilities and duties of life.

It’s even harder when you feel all alone.

When my kids were young, I had a couple of friends whose husbands also traveled for work or often worked late at night. Having these friends was a lifesaver, literally, because at the time, I was in the midst of post-partum depression aftershocks. We took turns making dinner for ourselves and all our kids. Sometimes we met at a park and then took the kids to their favorite taco place. And when the weeks were especially long, we got together multiple times.

Not only did we keep each other company during those years, but we also encouraged one another in the gospel. We reminded each other of what was true. We prayed with and for each other. We walked with one another through life’s trials and challenges.