For This House
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
I’ve always been the person who would rather go thirsty than ask for a glass of water.
Literally. I could be sitting in your living room, parched beyond belief, and I’d still smile politely and say “No, thank you, I’m fine” if you asked if I needed anything. The thought of inconveniencing someone else makes my stomach twist into knots. Someone once joked that I’ll apologize to a wall if I bump into it—and honestly, they’re not wrong.
Acts of service is my love language, but only in one direction. I find genuine joy in serving others, anticipating their needs, and making their lives easier. But the thought of someone going out of their way for me? That’s when the guilt creeps in, that feeling that I’m somehow burdening them with my existence.
This character quirk of mine (or flaw, let’s be honest) didn’t seem particularly problematic—until I became a mother.
Now I have two beautiful daughters, and suddenly, my reluctance to speak up, to make waves, to potentially inconvenience others doesn’t just affect me anymore.
It affects them.
Recently, I found myself in a situation that forced me to confront this head-on. Without sharing too many details (some stories aren’t for public forum), it involved making decisions about who we welcome into our home—decisions that would inevitably disappoint some people.
My palms were sweaty. My heart raced. The people-pleaser in me was screaming, “Just let it go! Don’t make things awkward! Don’t rock the boat!”
But then I looked at my daughters. In that moment, God reminded me of Esther 4:14: “Perhaps this is the moment for which you have been created.”
While Esther was saving an entire nation and I was just protecting my little family, the principle felt surprisingly relevant. Sometimes God places us in uncomfortable positions because that’s exactly where we need to be to fulfill our purpose.
My purpose as a mother isn’t to make everyone happy. It’s to create a safe, nurturing environment where my daughters can grow in faith and understanding at a pace that honors their development.
As Christians, my husband and I believe that children are a reward from the Lord (Psalm 127:3). We’re entrusted with these precious lives for such a short time. We’re called to guide them through this world with wisdom, introducing them to hard truths and complex realities when they’re developmentally ready—not before.
We don’t want to shelter our girls in a way that leaves them unprepared for life. But we do believe that childhood is sacred and that certain conversations and influences should wait until they have the emotional and spiritual foundation to process them.
In Proverbs 31:8, we’re told to “speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.” My little ones cannot yet advocate for themselves. They cannot yet discern what influences might be harmful or what conversations might be beyond their years. That’s my job as a parent—even when it makes me uncomfortable, even when it might disappoint others.
The situation forced me to draw a line. To say, “This is what our family needs right now,” even though I knew it wouldn’t be well-received by everyone.
I found myself sitting at the kitchen table after the girls were in bed, rehearsing what I would say, feeling flustered and anxious. The familiar worry crept in—was I inconveniencing others? Was I being unreasonable? Was I making something out of nothing?
But then my husband gently reminded me of something so simple yet profound: “Our girls shouldn’t suffer because we’re afraid of disappointing people.”
Those words hit me like a thunderclap. He was right. My reluctance to speak up—my own personal discomfort—couldn’t be allowed to compromise what our daughters needed.
There’s a beautiful verse in Isaiah 41:10 that says, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
I’ve always loved this verse, but it took on new meaning as I prepared to have a difficult conversation. God wasn’t just with me—He was strengthening me specifically for this task, this responsibility of motherhood that sometimes requires courage I don’t naturally possess.
When I finally had the conversation, setting the boundary that protected our home and our daughters, I was surprised by how calm I felt. The anxiety was still there, buzzing in the background, but it was overwhelmed by a sense of rightness, of knowing I was fulfilling my God-given role as mother and protector.
I wish I could say this experience completely transformed me—that I’m now boldly advocating in every situation without a second thought. The truth is, I still struggle. I still feel that twist in my stomach when I need to speak up or set a boundary.
But I’m learning. And growing. And I’ve realized something important: advocating for my daughters isn’t just good for them—it’s healing something in me too.
Each time I push past my discomfort to protect them, to create the environment they deserve, I’m unlearning harmful patterns. I’m teaching them, through my example, that their needs matter. That they don’t have to diminish themselves to accommodate others. That speaking up isn’t selfish—sometimes it’s the most loving thing you can do.
My three-year-old watches everything I do. If I can’t advocate for myself—if I can’t even ask for a glass of water when I’m thirsty—what am I teaching her about her own worth?
So I’m taking small steps. I’m practicing using my voice, not just for my daughters but with them in mind. Because someday they’ll face their own difficult conversations, their own moments of needing to speak up. And I want them to remember that their mother showed them how, even when it wasn’t easy.
Even when she was afraid.
Even when she would have rather stayed silent.
Because nothing—not my comfort, not others’ convenience, not even peace at any price—is more important than protecting the hearts and minds of the daughters God has entrusted to me.
And that’s worth finding my voice for.
Dear Father,
Thank you for entrusting precious children to our care as parents. Give us courage to use our voices when it matters most, even when our natural instinct is to stay silent. Help us model for our children that their worth isn’t tied to people-pleasing, but to Your love for them. Strengthen us when we’re afraid, and remind us that in protecting them, we’re fulfilling Your purpose for us.
Amen
Emily is a founder of For This House, and the middle sister to Lauren and Ally. She is a graphic design maven by trade, currently living in small-town and staying home with her two beautiful girls. Learn more about Emily.
Emily is a founder of For This House, and the middle sister to Lauren and Ally. She is a graphic design maven by trade, currently living in small-town and staying home with her two beautiful girls. Learn more about Emily.