When I first became a mom, I never would have said I thought holiness meant control. What I told myself was that I was pursuing holiness in my vocation, trying to live it as perfectly as possible.

That doesn’t sound like a bad goal, right? But only later did I begin to see that what looked like striving for sanctity was often an unconscious attempt to manage everything, a hidden belief that control would keep it all together. Though I write these words two decades after first becoming a mother, the lessons I’m sharing about control and surrender are ones I’m still learning every single day.

And honestly? That’s why I didn’t “get” St. Thérèse of Lisieux for a long time. She didn’t seem intense enough. I, who prided myself on being allergic to “lukewarm,” yearned for a spiritual drill sergeant. Where was the heroic striving, the dramatic virtue? My heart thought, that can’t possibly be the whole story of holiness.

Miscarriage and the Illusion of Heroic Virtue

Looking back, I can see threads of why control became the hidden force underneath my motherhood. One of the most formative wounds was this: In the early years of our marriage, six pregnancies ended in miscarriage, three before our first living child was born. Those losses cut deeply, and they shaped how I saw myself as a mother.

Deep down, I absorbed a hidden rule: If I couldn’t control whether my children lived, then I must control everything else to guard against more heartbreak. I never would have admitted that, even to myself. I didn’t think I was clinging to control at all. In fact, I told myself I was trusting God. That actually I was pursuing heroic virtue, carrying the cross, proving my love.

But underneath that striving was fear. Bone-deep, visceral fear. And motivated by that fear, a desperate need to control what could not be controlled.

The Wake-Up Call of Illness

After years of carrying that hidden tension, my body told the truth I couldn’t. I developed severe chronic illness as a post-covid complication. Overnight, the control I thought I had dissolved. I couldn’t push harder, couldn’t muscle through. My body forced me to stop.

It felt like failure. But in reality, it was an invitation. A breaking open that let me glimpse the truth. I wasn’t truly trusting God, I was trying to play God. I was grasping for control under the guise of pursuing virtue, trying to perfect myself instead of being transformed by Him. 

Every mom experiences these moments differently. For me, it was illness. For others, it might be loss, a child’s diagnosis, or the daily grind that finally brings you to your knees. In truth, I’d had many invitations before—miscarriages among them—that I didn’t know how to accept at the time. These wake-up calls aren’t one-and-done. The Father keeps offering us new chances to surrender, moment by moment. This is where St. Thérèse meets us. Her “Little Way” reminds us that holiness isn’t about checking off perfection before we can rest in God. It’s about making one small decision of trust right now, in the present moment. And then again in the next moment.

Thérèse’s Lesson in Littleness

Thérèse longed to do something great for God, but her health was fragile and her opportunities small. At first, she fought against her littleness, just as I fought against mine. I didn’t want to be little, I wanted to be “great”.

But then she discovered the secret: holiness isn’t about climbing to God through heroic effort. It’s about being little enough to let Him carry you. She wrote, “I want to find an elevator to lift me up to Jesus, for I am too little to climb the steep stairway of perfection.” That’s the heart of surrender. Not muscling my way upward, but letting myself be carried higher than I could have ever climbed through my own strength.

She also wrote, “It is to recognize our nothingness, to expect everything from God as a little child expects everything from its father.” That childlike dependence is what I’m slowly learning to trust. It doesn’t mean expecting God to do my work for me. There’s a difference between being childlike and being childish. My responsibilities as a mom remain — but the inner disposition shifts. Instead of carrying them with fear and pressure, I can carry them with an open heart, trusting that God is carrying me.

The Little Way in Mom Life

Thérèse’s Little Way is itself a path for letting go of control. Instead of climbing the long staircase of perfection by effort alone, she chose the ‘lift’ of God’s mercy, trusting Him to raise her up. For parents, this means loosening our grip on outcomes and daring to let God carry us where we cannot carry ourselves.

Thérèse’s Little Way isn’t abstract—it’s gritty and practical, especially in motherhood:

• Small Acts of Love: Holiness is choosing patience with a whining child, gentleness when I’m tired, or listening instead of snapping. Thérèse compared this to “scattering flowers” before God’s throne, small acts gathered from amid daily thorns.
• Embracing Littleness: It isn’t just about admitting I can’t do it all. Most moms already know that. The question is what that means when you’re responsible for little lives. For me, it means seeking help, asking for grace, and letting God step into the gap instead of doubling down on effort.
• Trusting Over Outcomes: I can plant seeds of love but I can’t force the harvest. My job isn’t to control results but to remain faithful in the planting.

Why Surrender Brings Peace

Psychology tells us that control is often a mask for anxiety. We try to manage everything because we fear uncertainty. But clinging to control actually increases stress. Surrender lowers anxiety and makes space for resilience. Spiritually, it returns us to reality: God is in control, not us.

When I take even small steps to live this way, my kids get a mom who is a little more present, a little less frantic. And I get to breathe again. It’s not a finish line I’ve crossed—it’s a daily conversion I’m still learning to lean into.

A Simple Practice

Next time you feel that anxiety rising in your chest, try this:

1. Pause.
2. Whisper: “Father, I trust You. Please carry me.”
3. Do one small act of love—a smile, a hug, or even just a deep breath before responding.

That’s the Little Way in action. It’s something we can learn, one step at a time.

Conclusion

Parenthood will never be under perfect control—and maybe that’s the point. Thérèse teaches us that holiness is hidden in the ordinary, the small, the surrendered. Moms don’t need to climb a ladder of perfection. We just need to stretch up our arms like little children and let God carry us. Thérèse once said her vocation was simply “to be love in the heart of the Church.” That can be our vocation too as parents: not to control, but to love in the small, hidden ways that shape eternity.