What happens when you lose the titles that once defined you? For six years I stepped away from my career to raise our children and support my husband’s dream. This is the story of how God met me in my insecurity and taught me where my true identity lies.
There was a season in my life when I had no impressive answer to the question, “So, what do you do?”
For six years I laid down my career in business and marketing to support my husband’s demanding work in the hospitality industry. While he worked long, gruelling hours, I was home full-time with our three young children.
When we opened our restaurant in 2019, I managed all the business and marketing from behind the scenes — building systems, strategy, and operations. The restaurant went on to receive two Chef Hats from the Australian Good Food Guide and TripAdvisor’s Best of the Best awards for 3 consecutive years. My husband stood in front as the chef and face of the restaurant. I was content to remain unseen, but the contrast of that life was often brutal.
Some days I felt like a single mother. I would stand at the ironing board late at night, pressing his chef jackets for the next day, and the painful thought would hit me: I’m ironing someone’s uniform… but where is this man? Does he even live here anymore?
The emotional whiplash was real. One moment I was working on business strategy, the next I was carrying a crying baby, doing groceries, or managing three little ones while exhausted. Every year of my children’s young lives brought different pressures and demands. There were many days I seriously wondered, Am I actually good at this? Should I just outsource the childcare and go back to work? Am I wasting my skills and my time?
In social settings, when people asked what I did, I would simply reply, “I’m a mother of three, and my husband is an executive chef.” That was all I said. I often felt invisible — quietly assessed and dismissed. The question that haunted me in those moments was, If I’m not producing or achieving anything visible, then who am I?
Yet even in that insecure and lonely place, God was gently doing something deep in my heart.
Every morning, I would strap my baby into a carrier pouch and walk circles around the house listening to sermons by John Piper, R.C. Sproul and Paul Washer. At 3pm during nap time, I did it again. While breastfeeding, I would sit in the quiet and pray for whoever came to mind.
As my hunger for God grew, so did my appetite for truth. I began reading Charles H. Spurgeon, Jonathan Edwards, Timothy Keller, Don Carson, and John MacArthur. I also started working through Systematic Theology. I devoured articles from The Gospel Coalition and books published by Matthias Media.
Even while raising three children, I enrolled in theological classes, studied trauma and PTSD, completed Clinical Pastoral Education, led worship at church for three years, and taught Scripture in public schools for four years — often bringing my eldest with me.
That hidden season also taught me how to truly care for the elderly. I learned what it feels like to lose your identity, to no longer be known for what you once did, and to feel invisible in the eyes of others. These lessons now shape the way I serve as a chaplain in a nursing home. When I sit with residents who grieve their past abilities, status, or independence, I don’t just listen — I can truly identify with the weight they carry. I can hold that space for them with deeper compassion and respect because I have walked a similar path.
Looking back now, I can see how precious that time actually was. I wouldn’t trade the years I spent raising my children firsthand for anything. That season taught me that time with them could never be bought back. But in the middle of it, I didn’t feel noble or spiritual most days — I felt confused, exhausted, and full of doubt.
It was during that season that the Lord brought me back to a truth I desperately needed:
“For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.” (Colossians 3:3)
My identity was never meant to be found in a title, a career, or what others thought of me. It was always meant to be hidden in Christ.
A Prayer for the Unseen
Lord, for every woman who feels invisible today, remind her that she is seen by You. When she feels like she’s lost herself, help her find her true identity hidden in Christ. Give her strength to keep serving faithfully, even when no one applauds. Teach her that time spent loving her family is never wasted. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Book Recommendation: Missional Motherhood by Gloria Furman
If you’ve ever felt like your days are swallowed up by nappies, meals, and endless laundry, this book will breathe fresh gospel air into your soul.
In Missional Motherhood, Gloria Furman lifts our eyes beyond the daily grind and shows how motherhood is part of God’s bigger mission in the world. Deeply biblical, honest, and full of grace, she gently dismantles the pressure and “mum guilt” so many of us carry, and instead points us to Christ as our strength and identity.
This is one of the most helpful books I’ve read on motherhood. Whether you’re in the thick of little years or reflecting on that season, it will encourage you that your ordinary days matter in eternity.
Highly recommended.
Book Recommendation: Suffering Is Never for Nothing by Elisabeth Elliot
This is a short, powerful book (transcribed from her final talks) that directly addresses the question so many of us carry: Is my suffering meaningless?
Elisabeth Elliot, who knew deep loss (including the murder of her husband Jim Elliot), speaks with hard-won authority and tender compassion. She shows from Scripture that our suffering is never for nothing — God uses it to teach us, refine us, and draw us closer to Christ.
It’s honest about the pain, but full of hope. No shallow answers, just solid biblical truth.
Highly recommended if you’re walking through grief, loss, hidden seasons, or wondering whether your pain has any purpose.
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