Lessons from Little Women: Finding Contentment When Life Doesn't Go as Planned

What the March sisters teach us about comparison, ambition, disappointment, calling, and learning to tend the life God has given us.

There are some books you read differently depending on how old you are when you pick them up.

As a girl, you might read Little Women and immediately decide which March sister you are. Maybe you're an independent, ink-stained Jo. Maybe you're artistic and ambitious like Amy. Maybe you're gentle and quiet like Beth, or you understand Meg's longing for a beautiful home and a comfortable life.

Then you grow up.

You pick up the book again after you've experienced marriage, motherhood, disappointment, grief, bills, difficult relationships, changing dreams, and all the other things nobody adequately explains when you're twelve years old.

Suddenly, Little Women isn't quite the same book anymore.

It's still cozy. There are firesides and sisters and plays performed in the attic. There are Christmas mornings, dances, manuscripts, squabbles, marriages, babies, and plenty of opportunities to wish you lived next door to Laurie.

But underneath all that warmth is a surprisingly grown-up question:

What do you do when the life you're actually living doesn't look like the life you imagined?

That's a question every March sister eventually has to answer.

It's also a question most of us will eventually have to answer for ourselves.

Want to Read Along?

If it's been years since you've read Little Women—or you've somehow made it this far in life without meeting Jo March and her sisters—this might be the perfect excuse to pick it up again.

I found a particularly beautiful hardcover edition that looks like the sort of book that ought to be sitting beside a cup of tea on a chilly afternoon. Since Little Women is one of those stories worth returning to at different stages of life, I don't mind having a copy pretty enough to keep around.

Find the beautiful hardcover edition of Little Women here:
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We All Start With an Idea of How Life Is Supposed to Go

When we're young, most of us begin writing an invisible story about our future.

Maybe we'll marry by a certain age. We'll have children. We'll own a particular kind of house. We'll have enough money that grocery shopping won't require mental arithmetic. Our children will grow up to share our values. Our marriage will look a certain way. Our career will progress according to plan. We'll stay healthy. We'll have close friends. We'll be involved in a wonderful church community. We'll finally become organized.

And then life begins editing our manuscript without permission.

The marriage doesn't happen when we expected. Or it happens and turns out to require considerably more work than the wedding pictures suggested. The children arrive with personalities, needs, struggles, and ideas of their own. Money gets tight. A career ends. A relationship changes. Someone gets sick. Someone leaves. The house needs a roof. The dream we spent years chasing turns out not to fit us anymore.

Or maybe nothing particularly terrible happens at all. We simply look around one afternoon and realize that our life is much more ordinary than the one we imagined.

That can create a strange kind of grief.

The March sisters knew that grief well. Their lives don't unfold according to anybody's original plan, and one of the great strengths of Little Women is that Louisa May Alcott doesn't give all four girls the same answer.

Because contentment doesn't mean we're all supposed to want the same life.

Meg: When Ordinary Life Doesn't Look Very Impressive

Meg has always fascinated me more that the other sisters. I have always resonated with her, especially as an adult.

Meg wants beautiful things. She wants pretty clothes, social opportunities, financial comfort, and the kind of life where she doesn't have to constantly think about what something costs.

That's easy to dismiss as materialism until you've actually lived on a budget.

There is nothing particularly wicked about wanting a beautiful home. There is nothing wrong with wishing you had a little more breathing room financially. There is nothing sinful about seeing someone else's lovely dress, vacation, kitchen, or house and thinking, That would be nice.

The trouble begins when somebody else's abundance makes us despise what God has put into our own hands.

Meg chooses John Brooke, and with him comes a much more modest life than the one she once imagined. Marriage brings love, but it also brings budgets, housework, disagreements, babies, fatigue, and the slow realization that a happy home isn't something you acquire. It's something you build.

That's an important distinction.

A beautiful life isn't necessarily one filled with beautiful things. Sometimes it's a little house where the furniture doesn't match, dinner stretched farther than expected, somebody is crying, and two imperfect people are learning to love one another better than they did yesterday.

First Timothy 6:6 reminds us that "godliness with contentment is great gain."

Contentment doesn't require us to pretend we wouldn't enjoy something nicer. It simply refuses to make gratitude wait until nicer arrives.

Jo: When the Life You Want Is Somewhere Else

And then there's Jo... Oh, Jo... Jo wants more. She wants to write. She wants independence. She wants adventure. She wants to make something of herself. She doesn't fit comfortably inside the expectations placed on women around her, and she isn't interested in pretending that she does.

There is much to admire about that.

But Jo also has to learn something that fiercely independent people often struggle to accept: Needing people isn't weakness. Neither is loving home. Neither is allowing your plans to change.

Jo's dreams matter, and she pursues them. She writes. She works. She travels. She stretches herself beyond the little world where she grew up. But her life still doesn't unfold exactly according to the manuscript she would have written for herself.

Whose does?

Proverbs 16:9 tells us, "The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps."

Planning isn't wrong. Ambition isn't wrong. Dreams aren't wrong. But sometimes we become so attached to the life we planned that we cannot recognize the good life God is building from the pieces we didn't choose. There is a difference between pursuing a calling and demanding a particular outcome.

Sometimes God redirects. Sometimes He closes a door. Sometimes He allows a dream to change shape. Sometimes the thing we were certain would make us happy doesn't. And sometimes we discover that what looked like a detour was part of the road all along.

Amy: Ambition Isn't the Enemy Either

Amy gets a lot of grief. Some of it she absolutely earns! But Amy also grows tremendously throughout the story, and I think adults can appreciate something about her that children often miss: she is ambitious. Amy wants beauty, art, refinement, travel, success, and social standing. She wants to become accomplished.

Again, wanting those things isn't automatically wrong. The deeper question is: What are you willing to become in order to get them?

Ambition can inspire discipline, excellence, creativity, and hard work. It can also make us jealous, manipulative, entitled, or perpetually dissatisfied. Amy has to learn the difference. So do we.

There is nothing inherently holy about refusing to dream big. There is also nothing particularly admirable about climbing a ladder that requires stepping on everybody beneath you. Biblical contentment doesn't kill ambition - it puts ambition in its proper place. We can pursue excellence while remaining grateful. We can work toward something better without despising what we have now. We can celebrate someone else's success without treating it as evidence of our own failure.

That's harder than it sounds. Especially when their success keeps appearing in our social-media feed.

Beth: A Meaningful Life Does Not Have to Be an Impressive One

And then there is Beth. Beth isn't trying to conquer the world. She doesn't need fame. She isn't building a platform. She isn't worried about becoming impressive. She simply loves people. She plays music. She serves. She cares for her family. She notices needs. She brings gentleness into the rooms she occupies.

By modern standards, Beth's life could look terribly small. But small and insignificant are not the same thing. I think we desperately need that reminder.

We live in a culture that encourages us to turn practically everything into achievement. Hobbies become side hustles. Hospitality becomes content. Family moments become posts. Personal growth becomes branding. Even ministry can become something measured by followers, attendance, downloads, and reach.

But some of the holiest work you'll ever do may never be impressive enough to put on a résumé. It might be caring for an aging parent. Teaching a child to read. Taking soup to someone who's sick. Sitting beside a grieving friend. Praying faithfully for someone who never knows you did. Keeping a peaceful home. Showing up. Loving people. Living quietly and faithfully before God.

First Thessalonians 4:11 tells believers to "aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands."

That's almost rebellious advice in a world constantly telling us to become bigger, louder, richer, more influential, and more visible. Beth reminds us that a life doesn't have to be enormous to matter.

Marmee: Becoming the Woman You Want to Be Takes Practice

As children, it's easy to see Marmee as the wise, calm mother who always seems to know what to say. Then she tells Jo something important: she has a temper, too. Marmee hasn't reached adulthood and magically become patient. She tells Jo that she has spent years learning to control her anger.

I love that. Because we sometimes look at mature Christians and assume certain virtues simply come naturally to them.

"She's so patient."

"He's so disciplined."

"They have such a peaceful marriage."

"She's always so gracious."

Maybe. Or maybe you're looking at twenty years of practice. We become what we repeatedly cultivate and practice. Marmee gives us permission to stop asking, "Why am I not naturally better at this?" and start asking, "What could I practice today?"

Galatians 5 tells us about the Fruit of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Fruit grows, slowly. Season after season. And even then, many fruit bearing plants don't have truly good fruit until they are fully mature and several years old.

That's encouraging, because it means the person you are today doesn't have to be the person you remain.

You Don't Have to Want the Same Life

One of my favorite things about the March sisters is that they're not four versions of the same "good woman." Meg isn't supposed to become Jo. Jo isn't supposed to become Beth. Beth isn't supposed to become Amy. And Amy isn't supposed to become Meg. They have different gifts, personalities, ambitions, weaknesses, and ideas about what makes a meaningful life.

Yet how often do we look at someone else's calling and decide ours must be deficient?

Maybe she's traveling while you're raising children. Maybe she has six children while you're struggling with infertility. Maybe she built the career you once imagined. Maybe her marriage looks effortless from where you're standing. Maybe she owns acreage while you're in an apartment. Maybe she homeschools while you don't. Maybe she doesn't homeschool while you do. Maybe she has a spotless kitchen.

Congratulations to her.

First Corinthians 12 describes believers as one body made of many parts. A body composed entirely of eyeballs would be horrifying and, more importantly, terribly impractical. We need different gifts. Different callings. Different seasons. Different lives.

Comparison asks, "Why don't I have what she has?"

Wisdom asks, "What has God entrusted to me, and how can I tend it faithfully?"

That question changes everything.

Contentment Isn't Giving Up

I think this is where we sometimes misunderstand contentment. Contentment does not mean sitting in circumstances that genuinely need to change and saying, "Well, I guess this is God's will."

It doesn't mean refusing to pursue a better job, address an unhealthy relationship, improve your finances, get an education, pursue healing, write the book, move somewhere new, or work toward a dream.

The March sisters certainly don't stop growing. Jo writes. Amy studies art. Meg learns how to build a home. They work, fail, change, dream, and try again.

Contentment isn't the absence of ambition. It's refusing to postpone gratitude until your ambitions are fulfilled.

Paul understood this better than most. In Philippians 4:11-13, he explains that he had learned contentment in abundance and in need... Learned... There's that idea again. Contentment is something we practice.

It sounds like:

I want something different, but I can still recognize what is good here.

I'm working toward change, but I refuse to hate my life until it happens.

This season is hard, but hard doesn't mean meaningless.

I'm disappointed, but disappointment doesn't get to decide whether I'm grateful.

That's mature contentment.

The Life You Have Is Still Worth Tending

Maybe this isn't the life you pictured. Maybe you thought you'd be married by now. Maybe you thought your marriage would be easier. Maybe you expected motherhood to look different. Or maybe your grown children made choices you never imagined. Maybe you're caring for parents when you thought this season would finally belong to you. Maybe your career changed. Maybe your finances haven't caught up with your dreams. Maybe your body doesn't cooperate the way it once did. Maybe you simply woke up one morning and realized your life feels much more ordinary than you expected.

You don't have to pretend that disappointment doesn't hurt. Grief deserves honesty. But disappointment doesn't mean there is nothing beautiful left to cultivate. Look at what's actually in your hands.

• Who has God placed around your table?

• What work has He given you today?

• What relationship needs tending?

• What gift could you develop?

• What corner of your home could you make peaceful?

• What prayer needs praying?

• What small joy have you been overlooking because it isn't the big joy you expected?

Psalm 90:12 asks God to "teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom."

Our days are limited. I don't want to spend mine constantly waiting for my real life to begin. This is it. This ordinary weekday. This house. These people. This season. These opportunities. These limitations. These gifts. This is the patch of earth I've been given to tend today. And so have you.

Scents of the Story: An Afternoon With the March Sisters

If you've been following our classic-book studies, you already know I can't resist finding a scent to go with a story. And Little Women practically begs for something warm and autumnal.

I want oranges tucked into Christmas stockings, cloves and spices from the kitchen, something warm baking nearby, old wooden furniture, cold New England air outside, and four sisters gathered around the fire talking over one another. Basically, I want Orchard House in a diffuser!

Young Living has a limited-time Fall Bundle featuring Orange, Nutmeg, Christmas Spirit™, Vanilla oleoresin, Clove, Bergamot, Thieves® Cleaner, and a FreshStart™ Diffuser. There are so many cozy combinations hiding in there.

For a March Family Christmas, I'd try Orange, Clove, and a little Christmas Spirit.

For a softer Meg's Cozy Home, Orange, Vanilla, and Nutmeg sound lovely.

And for Jo Writing Furiously While Everyone Leaves Her Alone, Thank You Very Much, I'd probably choose Bergamot and Clove—something bright, warm, and just spicy enough to have opinions.

Make yourself some tea, grab Little Women, turn on the diffuser, and settle in for an afternoon with the March sisters.

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Disclosure: I'm a Young Living Brand Partner, so purchases made through my link may earn me a commission at no additional cost to you. I share products I genuinely enjoy incorporating into our home.

Essential oils are, of course, completely optional. Little Women works perfectly well with a cup of tea, a blanket, and something delicious that you were definitely saving for the children...

A Small Step This Week

Before you move on with your day, I'd encourage you to sit somewhere quiet for a few minutes and ask yourself: What good thing in my life have I stopped appreciating because I'm comparing it to the thing I wish I had?

Don't shame yourself for wanting something different. Just notice what's already here. Then choose one thing to tend this week.

• Call the person.

• Make the meal.

• Work on the dream.

• Read to the child.

• Clean the little corner.

• Practice the skill.

• Say the prayer.

• Take the walk.

• Thank God for something ordinary.

You don't have to transform your entire life this week. Just faithfully tend the piece of it that's in your hands.

What Should We Read Next?

I've been having entirely too much fun revisiting old stories through our Old Stories, Timeless Wisdom series.

There's something wonderful about returning to a book we loved years ago and realizing that we're not quite the same person who read it the first time. The story hasn't changed—but sometimes we have, and suddenly an entirely different lesson is waiting for us in those familiar pages.

So now I want to hear from you: What classic book should we dissect next?

Is there a childhood favorite you haven't read in years? A character you've always wanted to talk about? A story that taught you something you didn't understand until you were older?

Send Prairie Dust Trail a message and tell us what you'd like to see featured in a future Old Stories, Timeless Wisdom article.

We've traveled with Christian in Pilgrim's Progress, wandered out of the Shire with Bilbo, unlocked The Secret Garden, and now we've spent a little time around the fire with the March sisters. Where should we go next?

I have a few ideas... But I'd rather hear yours.