Divine Womanhood: A Legacy of Life and Love
Co-Written by Jenny D. Webb (from The Dents in My Armor Podcast)
In Genesis 3:20, we read, “And Adam called his wife’s name Eve; because she was the mother of all living.”
It’s a quiet verse. Tucked in after the Fall and before the coats of skins. But this small moment holds a profound truth: God had already placed a divine purpose within Eve. She was called the mother of all living before she had ever given birth. Her identity—her divine womanhood—was not defined by physical motherhood alone, but by her divine relationship with God and the life-giving influence she would have in the world.
That same truth is at the heart of every woman’s identity.
We live in a world that often tries to define womanhood by outward achievements, appearance, or traditional roles. Motherhood, in particular, is often seen as a line drawn in biological sand: either you are or you aren’t. But our divine worth is not tethered to biology. It is found in our capacity to nurture, to lift, to bless, to mother—in whatever sphere we are placed.
Divine womanhood is not about a title; it’s about a way of being. It’s about loving others the way Christ does. And it manifests itself in the sacred work of “mothering” souls, even when the world might never label it that way.
I’ve seen this firsthand in tender, unforgettable ways.
Years ago, when my husband’s grandmother passed away, we stood at her graveside as a family. Our daughter was only four years old, holding her grandmother’s hand tightly as we walked away from the cemetery. My mother-in-law was quietly weeping. And then, in that sacred silence, my daughter gently looked up at her and said, “Grandma, it will be okay. Jesus woke up Grandma Ruby, and He’s taking care of her now.”
In that moment, my tiny daughter—years from even understanding what the word “mother” truly meant—was embodying divine womanhood. She was offering comfort. Hope. She became a nurturer, a healer. A four-year-old child mothered her grieving grandmother. No one would have thought to call it that—but that’s what it was.
This is the quiet power of divine womanhood. It crosses the lines of age, experience, and title. It shows up wherever love is needed most.
Several years later, I found myself in a very different moment of grief. I was overseeing a weeklong stake Young Women’s camp with more than 120 campers and staff. I had spent months planning, preparing, praying for it to be an uplifting experience. At the start of the week, I’d invited each young woman to choose a Christlike goal—something she could quietly practice to draw closer to the Savior.
What none of them knew was that I was in the depths of personal sorrow. My father had recently passed away, and every evening after a long day of leading and loving, I would return to my tent and quietly cry. It was hard—trying to serve joyfully while carrying the weight of grief.
But one young woman, unbeknownst to me, had chosen a goal that would change everything for me.
She decided that her Christlike goal would be to give me a hug every time she saw me at camp. Multiple times a day, I would hear her voice ring out, “Sister Webb!” and there she would be—arms open, smiling, full of light and love. She wrapped me up in the kind of hug that reached deeper than words.
What she didn’t know is that her nurturing sustained me that week. I had the strength to serve because her Christlike love was holding me up. She mothered me in the middle of my sorrow.
That’s the miracle of divine womanhood. We don’t have to wait for a certain title or milestone. When we seek to nurture, comfort, and support those around us, we are walking in the footsteps of Eve—and of our Savior.
A dear friend once told me about a moment in her life when she was celebrating a big personal accomplishment. She was proud and excited—hoping someone close to her would notice. But her own mother never acknowledged the milestone. Days later, she received a handwritten letter and a small box of chocolates in the mail from a longtime friend. The note simply said, “I am so proud of you. I hope you feel seen today.”
With tears in her eyes, my friend said, “I know it’s impossible, but I wish I had a mother like her.”
It wasn’t about genetics. It was about love. That friend had stepped into a divine role—being the kind of woman who sees and nurtures and celebrates others. The kind of woman who mothers souls.
These stories are personal to me, but I know they echo a truth many women have felt. Whether we have children, long for children, never had the opportunity, or are well past those years—our ability to mother is rooted in something eternal. It flows from our divine connection to our Heavenly Father and the spiritual gifts He has given us as women.
In The Family: A Proclamation to the World, we read:
“Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children.”
But the role of nurturing isn’t confined to biological motherhood. Every woman, regardless of circumstance, can fulfill the divine call to nurture those in her care—friends, family, neighbors, and even strangers. It is holy work.
President Russell M. Nelson has taught:
“Every woman is a mother by virtue of her eternal divine destiny.”
That means you. That means me. That means the young woman giving hugs at girls’ camp. That means the friend with the box of chocolates. That means the four-year-old hand in hand with her grieving grandmother.
The divine womanhood we carry is not measured by the number of children we bear or raise, but by the number of hearts we lift. By the lives we touch. By the way we choose to embody Christlike love in a world that is desperate for healing.
In the eyes of the world, some may feel like their offering is small. A hug. A letter. A moment of comfort. But in the eyes of God, those offerings are mighty. They are sacred. They are the very fabric of His work.
So whether you are in a season of raising children or a season of empty arms… whether you feel like you are mothering every soul you meet or wondering if you matter at all—remember Eve. She was called the mother of all living before the fruit was ever tasted, before the world even knew her name. She was divine because she belonged to God. And so do you.
You are a daughter of God. You are a woman of divine purpose. And within you is the holy capacity to create, to nurture, to lift, to love.
That is divine womanhood. And it is beautiful.
With love,
Jenny
Co-host of The Dents in My Armor Podcast
Prepare with Us
The Honey and Lilies Blog is dedicated to helping your prepare spiritually, mentally and emotionally, physically, and temporally.
Tune In
Join Meghan each week for inspiring messages, and diving into the scriptures to help you live the gospel, seek truth, and become a true disciple of Christ.
Dive Deeper
We are excited to offer online, self-paced courses to help you deepen your faith and understanding of the gospel and your covenants.