I remember the day I had THAT conversation with my boss, and handed in my resignation. I had a reliable job, a predictable rhythm, a reason to dress up, show up, and get things done. There was clarity in that world — performance reviews, deadlines, emails, rewards, outcomes. Yet I knew God was calling me out of it. Not because the work wasn’t good, but because from the moment I gave birth to my first son, I could sense Him whispering something deeper in my heart: Come home.
So with questions, fears, uncertainty and courage I said OK.
In many ways, it was beautiful. Slower mornings. More time with my babies. The chance to build something sacred behind the scenes.
But it wasn’t all soft lighting and a peaceful, pristine looking home.
What I didn’t expect was the quiet ache — the questioning of my worth, the mental weight of the mundane and of caring for all the people in my home, the way my world seemed to shrink even as my responsibilities multiplied. I left one kind of work and entered another — one that was far less recognised, but no less demanding.
I struggled to understand how valuable I could be, and yet, again and again, the Lord kept on reminding me: This work matters.
If you’re reading this as a mother who’s come home full time — or is thinking about it — and you’re struggling to feel the value in what you now do day after day, I want to gently offer this space and my thoughts. Not a formula or a fix, but a re-framing. A way to see our role not through the lens of the world, but through the eyes of a God who honours faithfulness in the hidden places.
This is for the mothers, the homemakers, the soul-weary women wondering if they’re doing enough.
I’ll be sharing some honest thoughts about why it feels hard to find value at home, and talk about how to find value here — not just in spite of the hiddenness, but because of it.
Cultural expectations & feminism’s influence
For much of modern history, staying home with your children was the norm. But in recent decades, the cultural message has shifted: women are told that success means being independent, career-driven, self-actualised, and visible in the public sphere. While there’s a lot of beauty in the opportunities now available to us as women, it can also create confusion and guilt when we recognise that are hearts are naturally tethered to home and yet we feel as though by saying yes to home, we are “wasting our potential” or “playing small.”
Many waves of feminism brought important progress: voting rights, workplace protections, and educational opportunities. But along the way, the narrative subtly shifted to suggest that “real empowerment” looks like career success, financial independence, and freedom from traditional roles. In that framework, choosing to stay home — to embrace motherhood as your main vocation — can be seen as backwards, even disempowering. It’s hard to feel proud of something the culture says we should have outgrown.
I am not sure if you’ve felt it, but I have felt the unspoken expectation that women should be mothers and entrepreneurs, and influencers, and side-hustling creatives. Being “just a mum” or “just at home” feels too quiet — too hidden — to count. But that’s a cultural lie, not God’s truth. Faithful homemaking might not be flashy, but it’s foundational. It builds souls. And the people right in our homes, matter just as much and even more than public applause.
Yet because society puts such weight on measurable outcomes, many of us who choose to be stay at home mums feel the need to justify our time: starting a small business, monetising a hobby, or curating a perfect online presence — just to prove that we’re still contributing. But this pressure can steal the peace and purpose of the home-centered calling, turning rest into hustle.
In Titus 2 and Proverbs 31, we see that home-making, child-raising, and nurturing a household are deeply valued by God. Not because they limit a woman, but because they root her in Kingdom work. It’s not about traditionalism — it’s about truth. God created women with the capacity to conceive, carry, nurture, cultivate, and lead in ways that often flourish in the context of home. That calling is not second-class. It’s sacred.
Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. Romans 12:2
Lack of Recognition & Value
What I didn’t fully understand when coming home, was that homemaking and motherhood involve countless tasks—cooking, cleaning, childcare, emotional support—but these contributions often go unnoticed. Unlike a job with promotions and recognition, being a homemaker doesn’t come with tangible rewards or external validation, making us easily feel as though our work is invisible and undervalued, if we do not find encouragement and conviction within.
As human beings, we long to know that what we do matters. That our labour isn’t just effort, but impact. When society consistently overlooks or minimises homemaking — treating it as “less than,” unpaid, or unambitious — it chips away at the sense of purpose that comes from it. It becomes hard to keep showing up with heart when the world acts like you’ve opted out of something more “valuable.” Especially when we are also dealing with the chaotic and unpredictable nature of raising young children.
Modern society tends to praise what earns money, what’s seen, and what scales, and in turn we do too. But homemaking is slow. It’s deeply relational, cyclical, and intimate. You don’t “finish” homemaking — you return to the same dishes, the same floors, the same emotional needs every day. Pouring, filing, loving, and caring. Without broader cultural affirmation, it’s easy to internalise the lie that this work isn’t “real” work.
More times than I care to admit, I have wondered Am I doing enough? Am I wasting my potential? Would I be more respected if I were doing something else? It’s especially on the days when fatigue is at an all time high, I am over touched, stimulated and extremely short on patience. I realise that taking the time to build a home requires maximum effort and strategy.
In Colossians 3:23, Paul writes: “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.” That includes laundry, nappy changes, making dinner, planning the week ahead. The unseen and the unglamorous. When we lose sight of the fact that homemaking is holy work — offered not just to our families, but to God — we start to believe the world’s narrative instead of God’s.
But here’s the truth:
Homemaking is not small. It’s kingdom work.
It’s soul-tending, heart-shaping, and legacy-building.
It’s building a haven in a chaotic world.
It’s servanthood, often without applause — but always seen by the One who matters most.
And when you feel the sting of being undervalued, remember: even Jesus washed feet. Not for applause, but for love.
Loss of Identity & Independence
Many women struggle with losing a sense of self when they dedicate their lives to their families. Before children, I had a career, hobby, and a clear idea of my creative pursuits. The shift to full-time homemaking felt isolating, especially with a lack of support and a big reduction in my time and energy to pursue creative outlets that would allow me to maintain my personal growth.
Likewise, homemaking can blur your sense of self. Before motherhood or homemaking, my identity was certainly tied to things like a career, personal interests, achievements, and even my name — not just “Mum” or “Babe” or “Where’s my sock?” Suddenly I found that my life had become centered around meeting everyone else’s needs, it can be easy to forget who you are apart from your roles.
Being a homemaker often means surrendering personal time, adult interaction, and even financial independence. You can’t clock out. The truth is that you can’t always make choices for yourself without considering how they affect everyone else. Even simple things — like going to the shop alone — become luxuries. That loss of freedom, if not acknowledged and supported well, can lead to quiet resentment or a sense that your life has been absorbed into everyone else’s.
Society doesn’t celebrate self-giving — it celebrates self-fulfillment and we live in a culture that preaches: Be your own boss. Chase your dreams. Put yourself first. But homemaking often calls you to do the opposite: to put others before yourself, to lay down parts of your life (even temporarily) for the sake of another. That’s radically countercultural — and when the outside world keeps shouting that you’ve “lost yourself,” it can be hard not to wonder if it’s true.
Without margin — emotional, spiritual, or creative — it’s also easy to feel like you’re just surviving, not becoming and thriving. And when you don’t see yourself growing, it can feel like you’re stuck, like who you were is slowly fading without something new rising in its place.
But here’s the truth:
Jesus said, “Whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 10:39). This isn’t about erasing ourselves, but about allowing God to reshape our identity in deeper, eternal ways. While the world tells us to find ourselves by doing more, the Gospel tells a different story: we find our truest self in the laying down, in the unseen faithfulness, in the love that gives.
You have not lost yourself.
You are being formed — in the hidden places, in the daily choices, in the humility of service.
You are becoming more whole, not less — even if it feels like a breaking.
Your identity is not erased by motherhood or homemaking; it is being refined, like gold in the fire.
Your value is not in what you produce or how free you feel — but in who you are, and Whose you are.
Monotony & Mental Load
Homemaking is a loop, not a finish line. You clean the kitchen… only for it to be messy a few minutes later. You fold the laundry… only for more to appear within hours. There’s no final product. No final “ta-da!” moment. It’s a well worn and well lived connected life and the constant repetition can make our work feel invisible — and even pointless at times — even though it’s deeply meaningful.
Also, the mental load of homemaking is relentless. We are the keeper of appointments, groceries, events, clothing sizes, emotional climates, relational tension, snack preferences, and who last took a bath. The planning is a full-time job in itself — and unlike a paid role, there’s no handoff at 5 p.m., no weekend shift rotation. You carry it all, often silently.
I’ve found that it’s also hard to feel creative or alive when I am running on empty. The monotony of routines — breakfast, dishes, naps, dinner, repeat — can numb the soul if there’s no space for rest, worship, or beauty. Without outlets to create, explore, or be poured into, it’s easy to feel like you’re just surviving, not living. That lack of stimulation or personal growth can make the role feel more like duty than delight.
The Truth Beneath the Tiredness
The world may not reward the daily acts of care, but the Kingdom does. In Matthew 6, Jesus reminds us that the Father who sees in secret will reward you. Folding laundry with love, wiping counters with grace, answering the same question a hundred times with patience — these are hidden offerings and in God’s economy, hidden doesn’t mean insignificant.
You are not failing because you’re tired of the monotony.
You are not less holy because you feel overwhelmed.
You are a human carrying sacred work that was never meant to be glamorous — only faithful.
You are building rhythms of safety, love, and consistency for your family. That kind of work is the foundation of flourishing — and though it feels like monotony, it’s actually soul-shaping repetition.
And yes, the mental load is real. But so is the God who offers rest to the weary, and wisdom to those who ask.
Financial Dependence
This is also a tough area for me, because we live in a world that says, “If you’re not contributing financially, you’re not contributing.” It’s subtle, but it’s everywhere — in media, conversations, even internal narratives. When you’re not bringing home an income, it can start to feel like you’re not pulling your weight, even though you are carrying the emotional, physical, and spiritual load of an entire household. When you’re not earning income, spending money — even on small things — can start to feel loaded with guilt or hesitation.
You may second-guess your needs, delay purchases, or feel like you have to justify everything. I have had to become more disciplined in this area which is a good thing, and share honest worries with my husband so that I remember that we are one team.
If you once earned your own income, managed your own schedule, and made financial decisions independently, the shift to relying on someone else — even your loving spouse — can feel like a loss of self. It definitely did for me! I’ve found myself grieving that freedom, even while being very grateful for my current role. Even in the most loving, grace-filled partnerships, money has power. When one person earns and the other doesn’t, there can be subtle dynamics of control, decision-making, or even self-censorship. You might feel like you have “less say” or like your contributions are less tangible — even though they are absolutely vital.
The Truth Beneath the Insecurity
Scripture reminds us in James 1:17 that “Every good and perfect gift is from above.” Your household may be operating on one income, but ultimately, it’s not your spouse who sustains you — it’s God. He is the provider, and He honours the unseen labour of the homemaker just as much as the work of the one earning the paycheck. The Proverbs 31 woman didn’t just bring home income — she brought wisdom, order, nourishment, and strength to her home. That’s kingdom wealth.
You may not sign a paycheck.
But you sign every permission slip, every grocery list, every appointment reminder.
You orchestrate peace, build schedules, soothe hearts, make dinners stretch, and turn houses into homes.
That’s not dependency.
That’s investment.
And it’s legacy work.
Comparison & Social Media Pressure
Social media shows the best 5% of other people’s lives — the spotless kitchens, perfectly dressed and coordinated children, mums who seem to juggle business, baking, Bible study, and beauty sleep without blinking. When I look at my life, it often doesn’t look anything like that. It feels as though I am living in my real 100%: the messes, the meltdowns, the mental fatigue, and this gap creates an ache — not because I am failing, but because I am human.
Homemaking doesn’t often look impressive online. Unless your home is photo-worthy, you have a lot of hired help, or you’re doing a trendy renovation, homemaking work is rarely celebrated on social media. Folding laundry, managing sibling fights, or planning meals on a tight budget aren’t “Instagrammable.” So the slow, sacred faithfulness of your daily work feels again invisible. Forgettable. Less than.
Maybe you see women your age launching businesses, writing books, or speaking at conferences while you’re just trying to get everyone to the breakfast table without tears and spilt milk. I tell you, those mornings can sometimes send me right over the edge and I start to wonder: Am I wasting my life? Should I be doing more? It’s easy to forget that your “more” might not be loud or public — but it is just as meaningful.
The Truth Beneath the Scroll
In Galatians 6:4, Paul says, “Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else.”
God didn’t call you to someone else’s life. He called you to this home, these children, this season. Not to impress the world, but to serve Him in secret — where true treasures are stored.
You don’t need to look like her.
You don’t need to do what she’s doing.
You are not behind. You are not less.
If you’re building a home of peace, if you’re shaping hearts with gentleness, if you’re staying faithful in small, unseen ways — you’re doing holy work.
Social media might not clap for you.
But heaven sees.
And heaven applauds.
Spiritual & Societal Misalignment
For Christian women, homemaking can be viewed as a calling, but modern culture often dismisses faith-based perspectives on motherhood and family life. I feel the tension between my biblical values and society’s messaging that a career is the only path to fulfillment. Society says: Be independent. Be ambitious. Be seen. The Gospel whispers: Be faithful. Be humble. Serve in secret.
These two voices aren’t always at war — but they rarely walk hand-in-hand. When you choose homemaking as your calling, you might feel like you’re swimming against the current of modern culture, where success is often measured by visibility, productivity, and external achievement.
Choosing to stay home, serve your family, and live quietly before the Lord is sometimes seen as regressive or even oppressive. The modern narrative says, You deserve more than dirty nappies and dishes. And that message can make even the most joyful homemaker second-guess herself. It’s hard to feel empowered when your life looks so radically different from the cultural script.
When your life is rooted in spiritual conviction, but the world doesn’t understand or value those convictions, it’s easy to feel isolated. Homemaking, done unto the Lord, is an act of worship. But worship isn’t always recognised. It doesn’t win awards or get likes. That can be disheartening — unless your eyes stay fixed on Jesus.
Sometimes, even Christian spaces elevate platformed ministry over quiet obedience. You might feel less “useful” because you’re not leading a study, writing a book, or starting a business — even though you’re building a home, sowing Scripture into your children, and laying down your life daily. It’s a lie that says only public faithfulness matters.
The Truth Beneath the Tension
You were never meant to fit perfectly here.
Your calling as a homemaker — shaped by the Spirit, anchored in Scripture — will look strange in a culture that chases self-glory.
But that doesn’t make it less sacred.
It makes it set apart.
You’re not behind. You’re not small.
You’re right where God has placed you — and that is holy ground.
Reframing our perspective
Homemaking will rarely get a standing ovation from the outside world.
There are no medals for folding the fiftieth load of laundry, no awards for whispering peace into a toddler’s tantrum, no public applause for creating a home where hearts can exhale.
But there is a quiet glory here.
A sacredness in the slow.
A strength in the unseen.
A worship woven into the wiping, the washing, the welcoming.
When we reframe our perspective, we begin to see homemaking not as a lesser path, but as a deeply formational one — shaping souls, stewarding peace, and partnering with God in the hidden rhythms of redemption.
We are not “just” at home.
We are curating spaces where people are known, nourished, and nurtured.
We are writing legacy in the ordinary.
And maybe the world will never quite understand.
But heaven does.
God sees every quiet sacrifice, every faithful choice, every moment when you lay down your life in love — and He calls it beautiful.
So let’s lift our eyes.
Let’s reframe the work.
Let’s remember that this, too, is Kingdom ground.
You are not less because you are at home.
You are planted here — with purpose.
And that, dear friend, is a holy calling.
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