The Sacred Middle - Where Grief, Motherhood, and Faith Intersect
A Response to Chappell Roan and The Call Her Daddy Podcast
The Comment that Made Me Pause
The internet has been buzzing over the past week after a video clip of American singer-songwriter Chappell Roan’s (27) interview on the Call Her Daddy podcast went viral. In this candid exchange from the March 26 episode, the Pink Pony Club singer shared the following observation about the moms in her life:
Her words sparked a frenzy of responses from moms across the internet - many of them angry or frustrated by how motherhood was portrayed.
I’ll be honest - her words caught me off guard. My first impulse was sadness, even a little defensiveness. I felt a need to protect the beauty of motherhood. I felt offended on behalf of the women in her life she may have been referring to. I couldn’t help but wonder how I would feel if a friend without children had said something similar about me - if my honest words about my struggles had been misunderstood or misrepresented on a viral podcast to paint me as “miserable.”
But as the initial sting settled, I paused. I sat with the tension. And I began to reflect on why her comment felt so personal.
In that quiet moment, I sensed the gentle prompting of the Holy Spirit asking me a hard and holy question:
Do I speak of my children, about my children, to my children, and over my children in a way that is pleasing and honorable to them and to the Lord?
And that led me to another question, one I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since:
Is there a way can we be honest about the struggles of motherhood while also honoring our children and the sacredness of our calling?
The Thoughts We Think, the Words We Speak
Ironically, I just began a Bible study from Proverbs 31 Ministries with a group of women from church titled The Thoughts We Think, The Words We Speak: Ephesians Study Guide. So this scenario and the question rolling around in my brain felt especially timely. And as a mother walking through the uncertain waters of grief and postpartum at the same time, I found it striking that I would be led down a path to examine the thoughts I believe about my unique journey - and the words I use to describe it on a regular basis.
In the last year, my husband, Josh, and I have grieved the loss of our medically complex daughter, Marsaili, and welcomed the birth of our third child, Brielle. To say it’s been a whirlwind would be an understatement. We also began our first year of homeschooling for our oldest, Liam, and I sought treatment for postpartum anxiety and depression. This past year - and the two years before it, filled with repeat hospital stays and the weight of medically complex parenthood - haven’t been easy. At times, we felt like we were drowning. But in all of it, we’ve never wanted any of our children to feel like they are burdens, even when life has been incredibly heavy.
Our words matter. Our thoughts matter. And our children learn very early how to perceive them - and how to internalize them. The things we say about them, over them, and to them shape what they come to believe about themselves. In the same way, the way we talk about motherhood - the blessings and the challenges - shapes our own perception of this sacred, stretching, sanctifying calling.
In The Thoughts We Think, The Words We Speak, the authors say this in the introductory text:
“All throughout Ephesians, Paul teaches us how to think and speak differently - not just because of how it impacts the people in front of us, but because we are fighting a much bigger spiritual battle. The thoughts we think and the words we speak matter more than I imagine most of us know.” - pg. 4
Paul, the author of Ephesians, spent much of his ministry reminding the early church what it truly meant to live as if Christ had risen from the dead and the Holy Spirit now dwelled within them. In this letter in particular, he calls believers to speak and act with integrity - even in moments of anger. He exhorts us to let our thoughts and words be truthful, honorable, kind, compassionate, and encouraging to one another (Ephesians 4:25–32).
His companion, Luke, recorded Jesus teaching the same principle in his gospel account. In Luke 6, we see Jesus describing how the condition of our hearts inevitably spills out in our words:
“No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. Each tree is recognized by its own fruit. People do not pick figs from thornbushes, or grapes from briers. A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.” Luke 6:43-45, NIV.
The mouth speaks what the heart is full of.
Let that settle.
Or maybe read the way other translations say it:
“…for his mouth speaks from the overflow of the heart.” -CSB
“…for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.” - ESV
“…for his mouth speaks from that which fills his heart.” - NASB
In other words, the words we speak and the thoughts we think are a direct reflection of what - or who - fills our heart and our mind.
The way we speak to and about our children and our motherhood journey matters. The words we repeat to ourselves matter. What we share with others matters. It is a reflection of who is dwelling within us - and who is ruling over us: Satan or Christ.
I’ve said before that while I believe motherhood can be a “burden” - in the sense that it’s a weighty, refining, sanctifying load - our children are never burdens. Motherhood is just as much a blessing as it is a burden. It’s also a burden we were never meant to carry alone.
The Way Cultural Misunderstanding Impacts Our Experience: Struggle ≠ Misery
Our culture is a strange, hypocritical one. Scroll through social media for a single day, and you'll find as many calls for better support for mothers as you will posts shaming them for their vulnerability. You’ll see just as many posts claiming that children should be treated with respect and dignity as you will see posts that advocate for certain public spaces to be made child-free spaces simply because people can’t handle the very normal behaviors of children. We live in a soundbite culture - where the loudest, catchiest take wins, no matter how tone-deaf or inconsistent it may be.
Mothers, therefore, exist in this space of conflicting struggles - they desperately desire support, community, and the freedom to speak vulnerably without being labeled as ungrateful or negative. But our culture is fueled by negativity. If we speak up, we are told we are complaining too much. That “at least we can have kids.” That we “chose this life, so why are we complaining about it?”
So we often stay silent, risking isolation and further loneliness in some of the most emotionally turbulent times of our lives. Despite being a culture that is more physically connected than ever before, we are a culture craving the deep and meaningful support that we so desperately lack - especially in motherhood.
I would venture to say that this tension is even more pronounced for grieving mothers. Grief is already a weird and unsettling experience. It’s already isolating. Add to it the complexity of the way our culture handles motherhood and you have a recipe for women who feel like they are stuck - struggling to believe the truths the Lord says about them and their journey when the lies of the world are so very, very loud.
When did we become a culture that prizes contradiction over consistency? That values detachment over genuine connection? When did honesty about our struggles become mistaken for misery?
Lament vs. Grumbling – A Biblical Framework for Emotional Honesty
This cultural confusion between sharing our struggles and being accused of ingratitude or negativity is not just frustrating - it’s spiritually stifling. But I believe it’s a confusion that could be cleared up among Christian women if we would simply open our Bibles and look closely.
Scripture does not shy away from pain or suffering. There's an entire book called Lamentations, y’all. Let’s start there.
A lament is a holy, passionate expression of pain. It is rooted in trust - in the belief that God hears us, loves us, and cares for us. Lamenting is not void of tears. It is not without discomfort. But it is a far cry from grumbling.
Grumbling is a complaint that stems from distrust. It accuses God of being unkind or absent. It distances us from Him, building resentment in our hearts instead of hope.
The Israelites in the wilderness grumbled (Exodus 16:2–3; Numbers 14:2).
David lamented (Psalm 6; Psalm 13; Psalm 22).
Miriam and Aaron grumbled against Moses (Numbers 12:1–2).
Job lamented (Job 3; Job 10:1–3; Job 30:16–23).
The Jewish people grumbled in the temple (John 6:41–43).
But Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane? He lamented - so intensely that He sweat drops of blood (Luke 22:41–44).
If Jesus could lament to that depth, surely God can handle ours.
It is vital that we learn to discern the difference. Not every complaint is grumbling. Some are acts of faith - expressions of trust that God is near, that He listens, that He responds. Lamenting is not a threat to our faith in Christ - it is often evidence of it. It reveals a confidence that God sees us, hears us, understands us, and fights for us.
So can we speak of our struggles without diminishing our sacred calling?
I believe we can - and we must.
Becoming Safe Spaces and a Culture that Cherishes Motherhood
I still believe wholeheartedly that Chappell Roan wasn’t inherently “wrong” for speaking truthfully about her experiences with the mothers in her life. Her words came from her story, and stories matter.
However, I still feel compelled to ask these questions - especially to my fellow women:
Whether we are mothers or not, can we be the kind of friends who hold space for lament without judgment?
Can we honor one another’s stories, even when we don’t fully understand them?
Can we resist the urge to label someone as miserable or ungrateful simply because they had the courage to be vulnerable?
And to mothers, specifically, I ask:
Can we commit to honoring both our children and our motherhood journeys - even while expressing real concerns and griefs?
Can we build communities where honesty and hope walk hand in hand?
Can we remind one another that even the hard stories are not “too much”? That every story - yes, even the messy and painful ones - still carries value?
With a spirit that is slower to react and quicker to listen, I believe we can do all of these things. We can shape a future that truly cherishes mothers and their children, even in the most challenging, chaotic, and tender seasons.
Honoring Our Stories, Our Children, and One Another
Since we first received the news that our late daughter had many medical complications, I made a commitment to myself and to the people around me: I would speak honestly of this motherhood journey God has chosen for me, and I would express faith in His goodness and sovereignty in the process. I want to be a mother who consistently speaks about her children in ways that honor them. I want the words I speak to let people know that regardless of what challenges we face, we are grateful for this journey.
These are the children the Lord has entrusted me to raise with love, compassion, and kindness. They come to me for comfort, and I never want them to question whether my arms are a place of safety or of tension - whether my words will be words of encouragement or ridicule.
I want to be a woman who holds space for honest emotion, for sacred sorrow, and for the kind of lament that doesn’t push God away, but draws me nearer to Him.
I want to be a voice that bridges the gap - between grief and faith, between motherhood and meaning, between silence and sacred honesty.
Because the truth is this:
There is room in motherhood for both joy and sorrow.
There’s space for delight and for mourning.
And there is a God who meets us in both.
Who sees. Who hears. Who stays.
So let’s not be afraid to tell the truth - about the hard days, the holy moments, and the heartache that threads through both.
Let’s be mothers, sisters, and friends who make room for the whole story.