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The number one factor affecting your future is what you believe about your past.

As the year comes to a close, there are two ways to look at it. You can focus on what you lost—time, opportunities, things that didn’t work out. Or you can look at what you learned and allow those lessons to serve you now and going forward.

I choose the second.

Because nothing in this life is wasted.

With that in mind, I want to share the two gifts I would give my younger self—first as a young woman, and then as a young mom. These are lessons it took me decades to fully understand, lessons I wish someone had told me sooner so I could have maximized their benefit earlier. But since I’ve learned them now, I get to pass them on to you.

Gift #1: There Is More to You Than You Think

What I wish someone had told me 25 years ago is this:

There is more to you than you think.

When you understand that you are fearfully and wonderfully made, created in the image of God, that changes everything. Not only are you creative by design, there are capacities, strengths, and callings inside of you that may not even be visible yet—because it isn’t time.

Many of us were raised in systems that taught us to identify what we’re good at early and then build our entire identity around that one thing. While that approach makes practical sense, it can quietly lock you into a narrow view of yourself: This is who I am. This is what I do. This is all I’m capable of.

And when life inevitably tries to pull something else out of you—when circumstances stretch you or redirect you—you may resist it, because it doesn’t match the identity you’ve already claimed.

I’ve learned to master the pivot.

From the age of six, I was determined to be a pediatrician. Against the odds, against naysayers (including my own parents), I did it. I trained, I completed not one but two residencies, and then life pivoted again when I married a military man and chose to stay home and raise our children.

That decision placed me in what I now call the lab of motherhood for over 20 years.

And it’s only now—after studying psychology, practicing medicine, completing residencies, and raising children full time—that I can see how every stage was necessary. Each experience pulled something out of me that I didn’t even know was there.

Today, I’m doing work I never imagined I’d do: as a thought leader to organizations and mothers alike. Teaching how a mother’s influence and mental and emotional agility shape not just her family, but the foundation of society itself.

That understanding only came because I stayed open to the shifts and the storyline they developed.

So if life is nudging you, stretching you, or revealing something new about you—pay attention. Be curious. Don’t limit yourself. You are still becoming who you were designed to be.

Gift #2: You’re Doing Better Than You Think

The second gift is what I would tell myself as a young mom:

You are doing better than you think.

I came into motherhood with intention, vision, and passion. Determined to nurture my children in ways I hadn’t experienced myself. I wanted to be a student of my children and give them the benefit of my experiences so they wouldn’t have to learn every lesson the hard way.

And still—motherhood humbled me.

Because no matter how prepared you are, motherhood is demanding. There are seasons when everything feels like it’s going wrong at once. Your child’s behavior, your exhaustion, the relentlessness of responsibility—it can all make you question whether any of what you’re doing is actually working.

That’s when the tree metaphor in Psalm 1 changed everything for me.

When you plant a seed, you don’t see fruit for a long time. First, it grows roots—deep, invisible work—before it ever grows upward. Then come years of tending, protecting, watering, and fertilizing. There are droughts. There’s wind. There are seasons you cannot control.

And still—the tree grows.

Early motherhood is intense tending with no visible payoff. And on those days when you’re exhausted, discouraged, or convinced you’re failing, it’s easy to forget what consistency and intention are actually doing beneath the surface.

But intention plus consistency always equals a payoff.

Not instantly. Not on your timeline. But inevitably.

Your job is to tend the tree—not to rush the fruit.

That means having a vision for the adult your child will become and parenting toward that vision today. It means reminding yourself that growth takes time. It means being your own cheerleader when the fruit hasn’t appeared yet.

And it also means protecting the soil, watching for weeds: influences or patterns that interfere with the growth you’re intentionally cultivating. You are allowed to remove what threatens what you’re building.

You are not failing because today was hard. You are not starting from scratch because your child had an off day. Trees have seasons. Children do too.

Hey there, Mama “Bare”

You are more than a mom—but motherhood matters deeply.

You were you before you were a mother, and you will continue to discover who you are long after this season changes. God has placed things inside of you that will emerge at the right time, if you stay open.

And when it comes to your children, you are the woman for the job.

You may not be doing it perfectly, but if you are doing it intentionally and consistently, grace fills in the gaps. That is enough.

Don’t let your hard-earned lessons go to waste. Let them serve you now—and pass them on to your children so they can start further ahead.

You’re growing “trees.”

And trees take time.

I’m rooting for you!

If you have a comment, I’d love to hear from you. Please share it here.

**The views and opinions expressed should not be taken as medical advice. The content here is for informational purposes only, and because each person is so unique, please consult your health care professional for any health questions.