The Best Is Yet to Come

Honest Hope for Tired Moms

I saw a note today from a mother in the thick of the early years — her four little ones all under age nine.

Caitlan Rangel

asked a simple, vulnerable question:

“Does any mother of older children have words of encouragement for us mothers of younger children, both for this season and the seasons to come?”

And oh, how my heart leapt. I remember that season. I remember the feeling of endless giving, the weariness that sets in before noon, the crumbs and the diapers and the noise and the tears (theirs… and mine). I remember wondering if I was getting any of it right. If I was enough.

And I also remember asking for encouragement and hearing mostly warnings.

“Just wait for the teenage years…”
“Little kids, little problems. Big kids, big problems…”

It’s not that those things are untrue.

Every stage of motherhood brings new challenges, new worries, and new opportunities for growth—often painful growth. But to my sisters still in the season of sippy cups and car seats and nap time negotiations, can I whisper something to your tired heart?

The best is yet to come.

Not because you’ll magically sleep through the night again. (You will, by the way—eventually.) Not because life gets easier.

But because God isn’t finished with this story yet.

Motherhood, at every stage, is a sacred unfolding of grace.

The toddler years are sweet, no doubt, full of firsts and giggles and chubby-cheeked snuggles. But so are the teenage years, in their own wild, breathtaking way. I promise. Watching your child become who God created them to be—not just physically, but spiritually and emotionally—is one of the great privileges of this vocation.

There is joy in hearing your daughter articulate her faith in her own words. There is beauty in watching your son wrestle with hard truths and come out stronger. There is awe in realizing they don’t just need you—they see you. They love you back, not just with sticky kisses, but with the deep love of someone who knows what you've poured out for them.

Yes, there are still tears. Yes, there are new kinds of exhaustion. But there is also fruit. So much fruit.

And deeper still, beneath all the stages and milestones and struggles, is this:

We are not made for this world.

All of this—the joy, the fatigue, the longing—is pointing us home. That ache you feel at night, the wondering if it’s all adding up to something? It is. And the answer isn’t just around the next bend of motherhood—it’s in eternity. We were made for forever. For joy that doesn’t fade. For love that never ends.

So when you feel worn out, when the world tells you it only gets worse, let me offer another perspective:

It gets deeper.

It gets richer.

It gets holier.

You were made for this, not just to survive these days, but to be sanctified by them. To find meaning, purpose, and yes, even joy, right in the middle of the mess.

And when you can’t see it clearly, lean on someone like me who’s a little farther down the road, and I’ll remind you:

The best is yet to come.

More to read:

💙 About Girlfriends

Hope That Fills Empty Spaces

Messy, Beautiful: Thoughts After 25 Years of Homeschooling

Doing Dangerous Things Carefully