Wholeness (Not Perfection): the Secret to Loving Well

It’s interesting how deep the longing runs in each of us for our biological parents. Even as adults, there’s often a quiet ache where we wish mom or dad had shown up differently. Some of us feel it more strongly than others, but in one way or another, most of us carry wounds from unmet expectations.

Growing up in a blended family, I remember the constant “scorekeeping” — who was “real,” who was “step,” and who was “half.” There were unspoken rules about belonging and complicated dynamics about who had the greater claim. As a child, I silently vowed that I would never, ever get divorced. I would give my children the secure family they deserved.

But life rarely follows the script we write for it. Twenty years later, I found myself remarried, navigating the very same complexities I swore I’d avoid... this time as a stepmom. Suddenly, I was the “not real mom.”

What I’ve learned, though, is that love in a blended family asks more of us than tidy titles. It asks us to open our hearts even when we don’t receive the same affection back. It asks us to show up with consistency when bonds feel fragile. It asks us to give without guarantee.

And here’s the truth: we can only give that kind of love when we are deeply cared for ourselves.

When a woman is depleted, resentments grow quickly. When she ignores her own needs, the smallest family conflict can undo her. But when she is rested, nourished, and centered in her identity, she can love with steadiness — even when the love isn’t returned in the way she longs for.

To love well in a blended family (or in any family, really), we must first tend to our own body, soul, and spirit. That might look like creating space for silence, protecting healthy rhythms, eating food that fuels, or strengthening the body God gave us. It might look like having a trusted friend or counselor to process the hard parts.

Because here’s the paradox: the best way to love others (stepchildren, spouses, biological children, siblings, parents) is not to sacrifice ourselves completely, but to show up as whole as we can. A woman rooted in peace can love from overflow.

So maybe the titles will always be complicated. Maybe “real” will always matter to children in ways we can’t fix. But our role is not to prove ourselves. It’s to love faithfully, and that begins with caring well for the one person we can steward fully — ourselves.