Homemaking Isn’t Cute. It’s Holy.

I woke up to wicked laughter coming from the living room.

Not the sweet kind of laughter.
The suspicious kind.

The kind that makes your eyes fly open and your stomach immediately drop.

The two-year-old twins had clearly escaped their beds and were up to something.

I groaned and dragged my very pregnant body out of bed. I was 38 weeks along with our second set of twin boys, my feet already swollen before the day had even begun, contractions rolling in and out like background noise. I knew before my feet even hit the floor that this was going to be a long day.

I rounded the corner into the living room and just stood there.

Flour. Everywhere.

The boys were deliriously happy, covered head to toe in white powder. The dining room was coated. The kitchen counters were coated. The floor looked like it had snowed indoors overnight.

I snapped a picture to send to Jason and laughed — and then promptly cried.

It was barely 6am.
How could the day already be this off the rails?

You don’t need to have twins back-to-back while nine months pregnant to understand this part: making a home is hard sometimes. It’s exhausting. It’s discouraging. It’s often thankless. There are days where it feels like everything you just cleaned gets undone in five minutes flat and no one even notices the effort.

And yet… when I look back on that day now, I feel something very different.

The labor pains are long gone.
The swollen feet are back to normal.
The boys wipe their own bottoms now.
(I truly never thought I’d miss those early years… but here we are.)

I wouldn’t necessarily want to relive that exact morning again 😅  but with a little perspective, I can see the joy in it. The life in it. The sweetness hidden inside the mess and exhaustion.

That day wasn’t wasted.
It was building something.

⸻

The World Says This Work Is Small

The world has a lot of opinions about homemaking.

It tells us it’s outdated.
That it’s small.
That it’s soft.
That it’s a fallback plan instead of a calling.

We’re told the real heroes are the ones climbing ladders, collecting titles, stacking promotions, building something that can be measured and applauded and posted online.

If you stay home, don’t you know that’s risky?
Don’t you know you should protect yourself more?
Don’t you know you could be doing something “bigger”?

What we rarely talk about is the sacrifice it takes to care deeply for a home. The emotional energy. The physical labor. The constant decision-making. The invisible leadership. The way your heart is constantly poured out in tiny, daily ways.

And we almost never talk about the joy and quiet accomplishment that lives here too.

We’ve stopped seeing the glory in the ordinary.

The beat-up minivan.
The hand-me-down clothes.
The frugal meals.
The sticky counters.
The tired evenings.
The repetitive rhythms.

But there is something sacred happening inside all of it.

⸻

This Isn’t Soft Work

Homemaking isn’t cute.
It isn’t always aesthetic.
It isn’t slow mornings and perfect sourdough and filtered sunlight, at least, not always!

Sometimes it’s sanctifying.
Sometimes it takes grit.
Sometimes it takes a lot of grace on repeat.

Every time you choose patience instead of snapping.

Every time you choose prayer instead of panic.

Every time you choose faithfulness when no one is clapping.

Every time you clean the same mess again and still choose joy.

Every time you train a heart instead of just managing behavior.

You are pushing back darkness.

You are shaping souls.
You are guarding the tone of your home.
You are cultivating peace and order and truth in a world that desperately lacks it.

That is not small work.

That is Kingdom work.

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Sword in One Hand, Spatula in the Other

 

There’s this beautiful picture in Scripture of builders working with a tool in one hand and a weapon in the other: building while staying alert, grounded, and ready.

I think about that often in homemaking.

We’re wiping counters while praying for hearts.
We’re folding laundry while teaching obedience and gratitude.
We’re breaking up sibling fights while modeling forgiveness.
We’re feeding bodies while nurturing souls.

It looks ordinary on the outside.

But spiritually? It’s deeply significant.

You are not “just” a mom.
You are not “just” a homemaker.
You are guarding the gates of your home.

⸻

Rooted, Not Perfect

You don’t need to be Pinterest-perfect.

You don’t need the cleanest house, the prettiest meals, or the most impressive routines.

You need to be rooted in Christ.

That’s what makes your work powerful.
That’s what steadies you when the work feels unseen.
That’s what anchors you when the days blur together.
That’s what keeps your joy from being dependent on circumstances.

When the enemy whispers, “This doesn’t matter,” you get to whisper back:

“As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

⸻

So Sister, Keep Building

If you’re tired today…

If you feel unseen…

If the work feels repetitive or overwhelming…

If you’re wondering whether it’s really making a difference…

Let me remind you:

You are doing holy work.
Don’t quit.
Don’t shrink back.

Pick up your sword — and your spatula — and keep building.

The fruit of faithful homemaking often grows quietly.

But it grows deep.