Christmas decorations, songs and lights fill the landscapes around us. Maybe if we’re lucky, cookies fill our belly, too. We wait for the one magical day marked by a visit from Santa, and most importantly, the celebration of the birth of Christ. Yet while we wait, we are already celebrating Christmas. Advent is a time of waiting, a time of hope looking forward, and simultaneously celebrating what already is and has been. Advent means “the coming or arrival of something or someone that is important or worthy of note.” It is ‘already’ (arrival) and ‘not yet’ (coming).
Many people can identify with this, from waiting for a package until its arrival, or when you travel, in the space before the wheels of the plane land at your destination. Builders and carpenters know this feeling. They start with a plan for a building or a piece of furniture which exists first only in their mind’s eye, long before it appears. Already and not yet. Parents know it this, too. We know what it is to have a child stand before you, to see all at once the baby that they once were, the adult they might yet be, and who they are exactly right now- the length of their arms and the shape of their beloved face. Past present and future. Already, unfolding and not yet.
But perhaps it is something that mothers can understand, most of all.
Image courtesy of The Saints Project.com
The hope of advent was born in Mary the moment that her heart decided that it could be. And it lived there long before anyone knew about it, or certainly knew what was to come. It was and was not yet, all together.
Mothers cannot only imagine what it felt like to be Mary, pregnant and waiting, we have done it too. None of of us have birthed a savior, by any means, but we understand what it means to hold space for something unseen, to bear both a promise and a child at the same time. We know what it is to be in the waiting and the celebrating.
It’s not easy, this waiting, not by any means. You stretch and grow unfathomably, to sustain the baby and hold the weight of it. While everyone waits, you alone carry. Every time you walk up the stairs, bend down to put on your shoes, or attempt to clothe both you and the promise, you remember what it costs, this waiting. Your body and soul bears the weight of its becoming.
Ironically, though, motherhood is not defined by one birth or one bearing. It is a thousands births, all of them painful, as you watch your children grow and be reborn, right before your very eyes. Not one of these births is alike, except for the way they explode in your heart.
I think this is exactly what God meant when he inspired man to write the words about Mary “she pondered these things in her heart.” Mary was experiencing the heart wrench of motherhood. Of holding both past, present, and future together inside one singular beating heart.
It was in the moments between the angel telling her that she’d bear the son, to his actual coming. When the shepherds came and they all looked upon the baby-his lips, his downy hair, his tiny fingers- and they could hardly grasp what it meant. It was in the space between his birth and his resurrection. Between his sleepless nights and little boy wanderings. When he outgrew his mother and began to look like the man we imagine.
Things change, babies grow, and yet we somehow hold them all in our hearts simultaneously. It is in fact, one of the miracles of Motherhood, the one in common with the miracle of Christmas. For one heart to hold both promise and heartbreak, hope and longing, present and past, future and family. We bask in the weight of the glory that was held, for a time, in a tiny human container that could fit in the crook of an arm.
It’s enough to make someone cry.
The other day I did something that I try not to do too. I looked back at pictures of my kids from three years ago this week, and of course, I cried. The tiny faces and smaller little bodies put a lump in my throat and an ache in my heart. I could practically smell that baby head and feel it’s downy softness tucked under my chin as I carried it. I held back most of the tears but there were enough for that now three and a half year old baby to notice. I looked from the image of him to the very presence of him before me. I loved them both equally, felt like I held them both in my minds eye at the same time. My son noticed the tears. “God bless you mommy. And God bless you when I was a baby too.” The word blessing shot back through time and space, like an impossible arrow hitting its impossible target. As if they really do exist all at once.
We begin the Advent season with preparing and we spend this time in hopeful expectation. Yet know that he already is come. Jesus who was, and is, and is to come. Our hearts hold the three things in somewhat equal measure- all true, even if they seem dueling. Past, present, and future, bound together. It is waiting and hold the weight of what is and what is yet to be. Longing and expectation, some promises already realized, holding both seen and unseen, all exactly at the same time.
Motherhood and advent are alike in this: it is a holding all of multiple things at once. Future hope and past moments, all while experiencing the joy and struggle of the current hours. It is sometimes an act of courage to not be swept away in sentimentality. It is also an act of courage to walk forward into the future, holding hands and too knowing you’ll someday let go. It’s living squarely, decidedly, in the moment that’s before you.
It’s in the heart of a mother. It’s in the heart of a parent. It’s the heart of a builder. It’s the miracle of Christmas. Love come down from heaven, all around us, breath, skin, and bones, Already and Not Yet.
I see a momma running around the house, one project to the next, all of them interconnected. She feels overwhelmed, and behind in every single one. Some days she does better than this. But not today.
After three complete circles around the house of unfinished business, she makes the coffee. It can help. As it brews, she sits and waits, with memory. Burdens of what she did wrong this morning already, what she will probably do wrong again later, despite her greatest wishes otherwise. She looks around and sees again all she’s still getting wrong.
She returns to the pot, even before it has finished brewing. She reaches for a cup, sets it down. She sighs out her overwhelm. This coffee may make her rattle even more, but it’s the least she can do. Maybe it’ll give her the pep or the clarity she needs to take a next step.
A song comes on, and it cuts through the noise.
“When You walk into the room, everything changes.”
She puts down the coffee cup that she didn’t even fill yet. She sits, kneels, or maybe stands right there by the cupboard. Now she remembers. With a breathe in, now, she smells a peace that she could never pour into a cup. She fills the cup with her tears, the room with the sound of her heart. Not breaking, though.
Being made more whole. She remembers now, what she needs most of all. Who she needs most. A very real presence.
“You’re what I need, Jesus.
I may need to organize my thoughts, my life better. But I need you to reorganize my heart most of all. I am so thirsty. So, so thirsty. But not for more coffee or even a smoother hamster wheel.
I need you.”
Right there in the middle of the mess of paperwork, and unrest, unmet expectations, she finds for herself a few moments. Not to recall her faults, as usual, but to consider instead the goodness of God, and His great love. It washes over her soul. Warms her more than coffee. Refreshes her weary soul. Reorganizes her hearts. Calms her troubled mind.
This is what she truly needed. And to this Maker she’ll return.
Again, and on repeat, when her soul feels empty or sorrow or scattered.
She’ll get back to the place with the one love that will never run dry. The place where her cup truly overflows.
Theres an express invitation right now for each of us. It might sound crazy, but there’s an invitation from a very Living God. To sit with him, to be with him. To walk with him in the cool of the day. To be known by him and to know him.
“I have come that you might have life” is not spoken from heavenly places, from a distant God. Not ever, and certainly not now. It is spoken from someone standing right by your side. Someone strong, kind, and loving. I’ve see Him and he radiates goodness.
“ I have come.”
This invitation is not someone else’s. It’s yours. That is the express invitation of God to the world. You don’t need full understanding or seven talking points to enter into this blessed communion. You need only one.
Yes.
Your “yes” meets Jesus and everything changes. For the better, yes, but for ultimate redemption, too. You can’t get better than that, loves.
He is the answer to every prayer you have. Every. Single. One.
Take a minute or five. Wherever, however you can. See for yourself if this, if He, is what your soul needs.
“Jesus inform my heart. Calm and transform my mind. Meet with me. Renew me with your Love. Overflow from me. Because I need it. So everyone else around me..”
You begin motherhood with the grandest of intentions. Or maybe that was just me.
You won’t just be an okay mom. You’ll be a really exceptional one. Extraordinary maybe. And you could show others that they can be extraordinary too.
You’re going to stay fit and healthy during your pregnancy. Your birth will be ethereal. Your love will grow a forest of meaning and beauty around your loved ones.
As they grow, you’ll be creative and fun, organized and calm. You won’t have a mess of crumbs on the floor of your minivan. In fact you probably won’t even have a minivan. You’ll maintain your enthusiasm, have a happy family, a beautiful home. You’ll be relevant and chic still. Your kids will eat their vegetables happily, and be beacons of kindness.
Then something happens. Maybe it’s the second kid. Or you can’t loose the extra 15 pounds, or your husband falls out of love with you. Maybe it’s a bad diagnosis for a loved one, or a medical struggle yourself. Maybe it’s the Cheerios ground into the minivan floor. Or the endless laundry and kitchen counter wiping. Whatever it is, it happens, eventually.
To all of us. (Even if no one else sees.)
Your feet touch down to this reality at some point. It is part of being human.
You look around and realize that you are just like all of the other moms. You are no better and no worse. In one way or another, you’re just like everyone else.
You’re not head and shoulders above. In fact sometimes it feels like you’re just barely head above water.
You probably feel defeated and scatterbrained more than you’d like to admit. Overwhelmed in the minutiae. Underwhelmed in the whole. Worst of all, you realize that you aren’t quite living up to your own expectations. And you can’t shake the disappointment.
You feel as deflated as the birthday balloon a week later or the loose skin on your belly after your last baby’s exodus. You’re not any better than anyone else at this. In fact, sometimes, someways, you feel that you’re worse.
But then as you look around you, something interesting happens. Transformational, even.
The more you look around, the more that you can see that yes, you are no different than the other moms in many ways, ones before you, the ones around you. Century after century of mothers. You are one in a line of many. And you are in extraordinary company. You are divine super heroes, all of you. One way or another, in rotation, on repeat.
You look at them and you see now a reflection back to yourself.
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The scars that are there? You see the story of strength that emerged. The sag of the shoulders? You see how the weight of the world was carried there sometimes. Many times. And yet she carried on. The hair -done or undone, messy bun or smooth. A crown of glory, regardless. The soft skin around the middle? She gave her body, her life as she knew it, her love, and sometimes it seems the very essence of her beauty, just to hold space for another human being. In womb or in arms, both.
You see, in these broken, chipped, poured out vessels, that these women have carried, and still carry, bring to bear the weight of a new world. Every day. A thousand times.
And you realize. No, you are no different. Nor do you need to be. You are in the company of greatness.
These Vessels that are made of dust, they carry gold.
Have you ever looked at the garbage in your life and felt sadness? Even deep sadness? Whether it’s the real, broken things at the curb, or the broken things in your heart that nobody sees, the pain is very real. Yeah, me, too. Which is why I was blown away by what happened to me this morning.
We all have trash and broken things.
As I rounded the corner to finish my morning walk, I saw the garbage there. A pile of extra trash was left to the curb from our most recent garage clean. There I saw the thing that made me saddest- the kids’ blow up shark pool laying in a heap. I wanted to cry. Not because it had to go. That I knew. A slow leak in one of the sides had slowly turned to a giant one. It could be propped up on one side by a chair for a while, but to decreasing success. The kids were still enamored with it regardless, but even they knew it has seen its better days. So I wasn’t sad so much that it had to go.
I was sad that because I remembered the last time we were in it. (Yes, I was, too. ) I was excited to “enjoy the moment”, as I knew it might be “the last”. But I was shot, over- touched or over- stimulated. I was not amused by the freezing cold squirts and splashes of water that css as me my way, even when I asked for them not to. I tried so hard to have fun. I tried to let go and be as silly as possible. But I just couldn’t seem to. My brain was muddled, my heart made feeble attempts but was otherwise overloaded. And as hard as I tried I couldn’t shake it, and I felt terrible about that.
I’m not sure my kids could tell or not, but internal dialogue was thick with self disappointment. “Can’t you just squeal with joy? Can’t you just not care about it being cold or feeling uncomfortable? Cant you just get over your goosebumps, get over yourself??” I felt so defeated. So human. So “mom”. So tired, maybe. So pandemic/2020 spent maybe. Giving it my best shot but falling flat.
Now, at the memory of it, I felt as deflated as the shark pool now sat by the curb. Like a failure of my own doing, lying there wrapped up in the trash at the curb.
Do you have any of those kind of memories? The “last ones“, the dropped passes, the “undone” things. The broken times and things that you can’t go back and fix??
Doesn’t everyone?
Then wait until what happened next. I kid you not, I remembered what I had seen at the beginning of my run. In the dark, propped up against a garbage can was a two and a half foot statue of Jesus. I couldn’t believe how unjust it felt seeing it there by the side if the road. Tossed out, set aside, left for garbage. I don’t love statues myself, but it just seemed wrong. I got really close to it and looked the statue Jesus in the eye. I considered if I should retrieve it? Save it?
“Don’t move it.” I heard inside my heart. The words were almost stern. The whole thing kind of made me uncomfortable, honestly. Do I left it there. I continued on with my run and I didn’t look back, except at the leaves that noisily followed me down the road. It’s okay, I told myself. Told the alive and real Jesus. “You’re still king of the universe.” He was unconcerned that the statue had been put by the curb.
I had put the thought of it out of my mind until I was there writing through my shark pool emotions. And then when I put two and two together – my trash and Jesus- I was overcome with emotion. I literally bawled.
He didn’t mind being in the trash today because he’s already been there, already IS there. He is in the trash, with my disappointments and my failures, with what I’ve broken or what life has broken for me. He’s right there. And He’s redeeming ALL THINGs.
Then I realized as I closed my eyes, that he wasn’t leaning against the garbage can. He was in front of the recycling. I laughed to myself. Of course! He is the ultimate “up-cycler”. He takes our broken things and he makes something better. He does not “fix“ everything here, in our homes, right now, they way we might like. But he redeems everything. It’s in his very nature. He makes all things NEW.
I won’t ever see that shark pool again. I won’t ever get those moments back to do them better. Those moments weren’t lost, and inspite of my limitations, I trust that something bigger and better than myself is working through my ordinary days. I don’t need to be perfect to have a perfect grace cover my days.
Same goes for your mistakes, your broken things, and your losses. They are being used to make something better going forward.
How do I know? I’ve had my share of brokenness, too. Child of divorce, loss, a miscarriage, all have touched my life, to name a few. God knows how to redeem all of it. I’ve seen him do it, and he still is doing it. That’s how God works. He takes our trash and He uses it to create a legacy of hope and eternal redemption. Your brokenness is not the end of the story. It’s just a beginning. Let God be there with it. And let him do something with it. He’s not afraid or bothered by any of it, and you shouldn’t be either.
You might even call him Jesus: “The Patron Saint of our brokenness.” ❤️
Ahhh! It’s Halloween! It’s Saturday! Kids are home all day and you might not have anything planned yet. No printer, No party, no plans? No problem!! I’ve got JUST the thing. Well, four things. They are simple, fun, and you could be having fun with your family in a matter of minutes, not hours. (Yes, and amen.)
I wouldn’t say I’m the *least* crafty or Pinterest-inclined soul, but the entire process of planning, preparing and implementing crafty things is no small deal, and it’s not exactly my strong suit. So if I can do these super cute activities, so can you.
Pin the Spider on the Web
This is just what you would think, a cute “spin” (see what I did there😉) on ‘Pin the Tail on the Donkey’.
You’ll need:
A large piece of white paper (I used a large piece of white craft paper)
Black marker, other paper, and scissors
Tape
*Optional: to make it sturdier, you can use a section of cardboard (from one of those delivery boxes we all have) to reinforce the white paper You can just as easily tape the paper directly onto the wall.
Draw a spider web onto the large paper. Draw and cut out spiders. (I made ours quarter sized and with a sharpie). Have your kids help if they want too. Everything is done by hand and nothing has to be perfect (for me at least), so the making of it doesn’t have to be fussy. My kind of project!
Hand drawn spidersSpider web (Plus jar for other game)
When it’s time to play, set up the spider web either by attaching it to the wall or propping it up on a safe place that’s height appropriate for your kids. Attach double sided tape to each spider. Blindfold the participant ( masks pulled up over their eyes will work well), spin them around a time or two, then point them at the web. See how well each spider lands on the web, or near the center. Repeat, and enjoy! When they’re done, it looks like a really cool decoration, too, so there’s that!
Halloween “Cake/Candy” Walk
If you’ve ever participated in a cake walk at a fundraiser, you might know the general idea. You place numbers on the floor, play music and have the partisans walk around the numbers. When the music stops, each person finds a number and stands on it. The “emcee” then pulls a number from a jar, and the person standing on that number wins the round.
You can jazz this up and play it elimination style (number pulled mens you’re out, and last person standing wins!), or give out candy or other prizes if you’re standing on the number that’s called. It’s fun any way you want to play it. It all depends on how you want to trick .. or treat the contestants!
You’ll need:
Numbered papers (standard letter/construction/printer sized is best) *at least as many as participants, or more
small squares of paper, matching the numbers on the floor, in a jar or basket
music that can be easily turned off or on
open floor space
You can either write, draw, color, etc the numbers by hand. Make them feisty and fancy, or simple. Whatever suits your style and available time. I actually started printing off a set when my printer ran out of ink, which is how I realized you might not even need the printer after all! But in case you DO have ink in you printer, and it’s easier, here’s the link for the cute ones I used. I also opted for card-stock to make them sturdier.
Numbers placed on floor for Candy Walk Jar with numbers for drawing
Mummy Bean Bag Toss
Lots of families have bean bags lying around. If you don’t, no worries, try using a stuffed animal. Trust me, it works just as well. We’ve enjoyed year long games of something called Birdsey Bucket with a dear friend, where we threw a stuffed animal bird into a basket. The very same basket, in fact, that transitioned to be a mummy this time 😃
You’ll need:
A basket (or other sort of container you can set on the floor)
set of bean bags, or stuffed animal (bonus points for Halloween theme)
toilet paper (gasp, I know!)
marker, card-stock paper, scissors and tape (optional for drawing and attaching arms, eyes, and eyebrows
Wrap the basket in toilet paper. I secured it with a little double sided tape at the base, but I’m not sure how necessary that even was. Draw freehand some eyes, arms, or even a mouth, to dress up your mummy as you wish. That’s it!
To play, on opposing teams, two people (or more!) take turns tossing the bean bags into the basket, counting baskets. The one with the most baskets wins! Easiest game ever. *Parent tip- it can even be played from the sitting position, should you ever be so lucky 😀
*Eye Spy Halloween Game
This one has an asterisk because it you may or may not want a printer.
It’s easiest to print off this set, cut out the pictures, and have a paper tally sheets for everyone. But you don’t have to do it that way.
Alice & Lois printable Eye Spy Game
You can easily do it by hand- drawing cute Halloween themed pictures or cutting them out of magazines or old books, then creating a tally sheet in the same manner.
If you’re doing pictures drawn by hand, you could make one master sheet for everyone to reference. Or skip a tally sheet all together.
Don’t feel like drawing or cutting out and taping all of those things, and want to know the super simplest way? Have the kids gather Halloween items (stuffed animal cats, plastic spiders, vampire teeth, whatever you’ve got. I mean, you could even hide candy if you’re not already maxed out on sweetness.). Hide the items or the pictures in a designated area. Then, let the kids find them. Sit back and enjoy your (maybe) hot coffee while they elatedly bring you their found treasures.
Easy-peasy! Simple or fancy, paper or no paper-whichever way you choose, kids always have so much fun hunting for things, so this game is always a winner.
So there’s my super list if super simple and cute Halloween games. Hope that keeps things most enjoyable for all of you. Enjoy today, however wacky or different it might be. Embrace the joy and the not-so-spooky fun!!
When my daughter was born I wanted to never fail her. I felt her innate perfection as we basked in her fresh from heaven glow. I wanted to witness every magical moment, every transformation, every milestone. I didn’t want to dampen the light in her soul with any negativity or harshness or to provide her any disappointment.
The reality sets in, slowly at first and then with increasing speed. You accidentally nick a tiny finger as you’re clipping their nails, a just as you breathed a sigh of relief upon reaching the tenth one. The baby monitor malfunctions, leaving you to realize that they cried for longer than you anticipated. They start walking, running and jumping- a whole new the world where you camouflage never catch every fall or stop every bump. Every cry feels like your own failure echoed back. Verbal leaps and bounds move from being amazing to increasingly taxing. You go from hanging on every word to zoning out while your brain searches for quiet (something you swore you’d never do.)
Eventually and then in a blink, you find yourself in the tween years and beyond, wondering how you’re not going to forever mess things up.
Your long days and years of motherhood leave you grappling with your own shortcomings, your limitations, and your continued desire to do a good job. Not to mention it would be nice to take care of yourself just enough to get by without being selfish.
Your hopeful longings of perfection become a distant, distant memory. You hope now just to hang on, and to try not to fall off the ride. Enjoy it if you can, and hopefully not loose your cookies all over the place.
But did you ever pause for a moment and think that is exactly what is supposed to happen? The bubble of perfection is not meant to last forever. If it did, how would your child ever learn or grow? Or even, how would you?
As parents we give our kids so much time and attention, make so many meals and snacks, read so many books, arrange so many appointments and smother them with kisses. But if you’re anything like me, when it’s time to close our eyes at night, we seem to only think of the places that we failed that day. The times we maybe weren’t there or made a mistake, the words that came out sharper than we intended, our energy was zapped or distracted, the book we didn’t finish, the forgotten sandwiches. We wonder if we did enough, loved well enough, were good enough. We are not only our own worst critic, we are relentless.
No matter how many needs I fill or boxes I check, it’s the ones that I missed that scream from the page each day. But you know what I keep learning? Even when we think that we’re failing our kids, we aren’t really failing our kids.
We’re still here and we’re still trying.
Those failures of mine aren’t really failures. They are opportunities for all of us. When I can’t give them one on one, I realize that I am giving them something else- independence and room for creativity. When I forget something and disappoint them, I am giving them the practice of resilience.
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This is not a hall pass to get it all wrong or do a terrible job. This is just to understand with our assignment as parents is to begin with.
Maybe always doing what’s right for our kids isn’t always doing something right for our kids. (You might want to reread that sentence again.) There are probably a hundred thousand examples one could think up, but you can probably think of five right off the top of your head. They probably all happened just yesterday, or even by nine am. The help you have without a second thought to the manners that were missing. The finding of lost things without letting them really try.
I’ll be the first to admit that old habits die hard. I am a nanny by trade (for over 20 years!) My performance was based on doing a good job, on being great, at least as I saw it. I was one of the “lawnmower” types, clearing a path to make everything smooth and easy. Until a teacher kindly suggest that I might do otherwise- maybe talk through problems more, show some struggles, and give the kids the chance to learn what happens and how to figure out what to do next.
In taking my job so seriously, I had stopped allowing for error. I realized that my perfection wasn’t only not necessary, it was perhaps harmful. I was missing an opportunity for their growth in some ways. I learned to then both accept and TO BE less perfect. It was better for all of us.
Yet when I started again, and my personal motherhood journey began, I was handed, like any parent, a whole new set of chances to learn, try, and fail, again and again and again. So it is with parenting- you are always finding areas for continued improvement, even when you’re not looking for them.
Our “failings” are meant to not only teach us, but to lead us, both parents and kids alike. They are meant to show us new paths, to lead us to greater growth and to stretch us beyond our own current limitations. The challenges of parenthood and life alike are meant to connect us more fully, not only with who we are, but with who we could be. Each time I try to achieve parenting “perfection” maybe I am denying them a bit of their own chance for growth?
As we all know, mom guilt is ridiculous and one of the biggest crocks of you-know- what around. We’re on the downtail of the Pinterest mom, but we’re still on the upswing of the Intentional mom. We are trying to let go of the practice of perfectionism, but we can’t seem to let go of the need to be downright miraculous. Are you ready for a tough truth? (Deep breath.) When we spiral into mom guilt, we are actually making it more about us and less about them. (Exhale.)
As parents maybe it’s time to stop looking at our kids to define our success and value and start letting them rise into theirs. The times that we fail or disappoint our children are meant to allow them the opportunity to do this very important thing— It allows them to connect with their own abilities, with what is divinely available to them. It allows them to see what is ‘impossibly possible’ for their own lives. Even if that is made possible because I myself am imperfect. (Talk about a slice of humble pie.)
If I truly want my child to rise to their highest potential and loftiest, most beautiful life, than I must be neither the shining star, nor the lowly footstool.
Being a parent isn’t about reaching a state of perfection and sharing it with tiny humans. It’s about walking alongside another person, a beautiful member of your own little family, and being both amazed and humbled as we go. It’s about offering help and guidance when necessary, and learning along with them on the way.
Can we consider perfectionism (and the subsequent lying guilt) for the foe that it is, not the friend. What would a friend say, after all, butter truth of both what it (“You are not perfect but you are more than good enough, just as you are!”). And also, the truth of what is becoming (”Keep going, I’m so excited for what is ahead!”)
As a mom you want to love them well. I believe that is part of the job. That love is invaluable, the guidance is necessary. But I have stopped believing that being perfect is what I am meant to do . We believe a lie when we think that they need our perfection. It’s a lie that I believed for a long time, one that leaves little room for the best things- growth, adventure, and real true love.
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They just need us. And the kind of love that leaves room for things beyond itself.
Maybe that is parenthood at its finest. NOT a perfect display of love, but a perfect display of what it means to be loved, in spite of our imperfections. To live in love that keeps trying, even when it fails. To show our kids what’s possible when you love imperfectly, but keep trying. When you connect to the divine kind of love that picks up where we leave off.
The perfect love that never expected us to be perfect first, or ever on our own.
The next time that you feel like you’ve failed, can you just release it? Release the judgement of yourself. Release the attachment to what success looks like in your own terms. Release both your child and yourself to the infinite possibility of love that’s Divine and that fills in the blanks.
Walking forward, one hopeful, stumbling, fumbling step forward at a time. As a parent and a fellow human, humbly, finding both ourselves and one another along the way. ❤️
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love.
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love. 