thirty-five powerful ways to be

Simple mindset statements that are powerful ways to live. Be blessed. ~Rachel

Be bold.

Be kind.

Be loving.

Be aware and awake.

Be intentional.

Be joyful.

Be authentic.

Be empathetic.

Be understanding.

Be a dreamer.

Be learning.

Be giving.

Be a listener.

Be positive.

Be helpful.

Be approachable.

Be genuine.

Be brave.

Be real.

Be creative.

Be the change.

Be determined.

Be rooted.

Be balanced.

Be good to others.

Be compassionate.

Be purposeful.

Be forgiving.

Be strong.

Be inspiring.

Be generous.

Be loving.

Be wise.

Be a voice.

Be you.

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for those of you wanting to share your friday favorite links feel free to add below. This is week 111 of intentional - focused - loving the little things- finding joy gratitude.

those letting go days of motherhood. why moms are truly brave.

And then they were gone.

It was months in anticipation. Months of planning, skypes, excitement, and even last minute in the snow shopping trips to the Mall of America in late April. Which, in case you were interested, really does have an entire amusement park with roller coasters inside. And now, yesterday, after packing bags that were almost too heavy, I drove to the airport, went through security, drank some coffee, and then watched my two oldest daughters get on a plane and fly away.

That's what I want. I want them to be brave and to explore the world and to follow their dreams.

Even though the mothering part of me wonders how in the world it went so fast.  No longer am I dropping them off at preschool and wandering back to the car with tears in my eyes but now I'm watching them take off in a 737 and I'm standing in the terminal with tears in my eyes. They need to do that. It's that growing up, I trust you, I believe in your dreams, you are amazing, and you need to be brave things that we as mothers must do.

It simply goes so fast.

Instead of working with basic math facts I'm watching flight tracker waiting for that fabulous text stating that "I'm here!" Sometimes I'll look back and the years spent mothering them and I'll immediately see all the mistakes and things I wish I had done and not see all the brave moments. I'll worry about the fact that we never went to Disney World or that we stopped these classes or I'll wish I had been more intentional or played more games or all of that stuff that us mothers worry about. I'll think about those things and miss the little things.

Intentional parenting is really not about spending every single second with your children. It's not providing them something to do and having days so structured that they move from event to event to event. In some ways, parenting with an intentional heart is this understanding that you are slowly letting them go. It's knowing that they must have opportunities to grow up, to learn, and to be deliberate in their thinking. It's being brave and bold even though sometimes we just feel like it's normal.

And mixed in that is this deep understanding that each day you're given is a gift. That's the heart posture. Each day might not be amazing - because honestly looking back at the stream of parenting years I'd have to admit that most days were just days - but even with that each day is a gift. Life is a gift.

So as I cheered when I heard that the plane landed I also cheered for myself. For the courage as a mother to let them go, to believe in them, to give grace, and to keep moving. And just like yesterday, I cheer you.

You may be just like me years ago sitting in the car as your three year old is dropped off at his class. That is brave. It's brave to let them go and let them grow. That matters. It's brave to decide to do each day well and to learn from the past but not let it cloud today. It's brave to get down on your knees and look in the eight year old's eyes and to tell them that you love them no matter what even after the hardest day ever. It's brave to look a pediatrician in the eyes and to ask him what's next. It's brave to stand behind the bathroom door, to brush the tears away, and to try once again.  It's brave to just keep going even when you're tired, weary, and honestly just a bit tired of pouring cereal and milk.

Pouring cereal and milk? Don't overlook that. That's the fabric of motherhood. You start pouring it for them, then you teach them, then they do it on their own, and then you don't worry about them getting it because you've taught them how. A simple analogy, but the truth.

Now today, today as you bravely put one foot in front of the other and move forward remember that all those little things - the teaching of how to button the coat or how to run the laundry or picking up the toys or saying the please and thank you's or how to drive - all of those things build up together and empower your kids. They matter. They are the things that gives your kids the courage to scan their ticket and walk away from their mother standing in the corner with tears in her eyes and walk down a jetbridge onto a plane.

I brushed my tears and watched the plane holding just a bit of my heart take off into the sky.

Proud.

The little moments matter. The little things matter.

Moms are brave.

Onward brave mother onward!

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stretched thin motherhood days. celebrating the strength & resolve of moms

I feel... thin. Sort of stretched, like... butter scraped over too much bread.

Bilbo Baggins, The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien

She sat there, in the corner of the bustling coffee shops with order of grandes and ventis and talls around,  with crying children strapped safely in a stoller, and she had her head in her hands with her eyes closed. I didn't notice till my caramel macchiato was called as I stood up to grab that grande cup of energy and happened to glance over to the crying noise of a toddler. She wasn't that noticeable, tucked in the corner, late in the afternoon, and if it wasn't for the cry of the toddler she might have vanished into the fabric of the coffee shop.

As I waited with my daughter Grace I mulled over what to do. Do I wander over and say an encouraging word, say a silent prayer, or ignore like everyone else in this place? Or perhaps, they too, in that second didn't notice and didn't simply see as they bustled through their own lives, agendas, and need for an extra boost of caffeine at 4pm.  And in that very second of debate as we waited for the Strawberries and Cream Frappuccino to be finished (after all when you're twelve that's a favorite) I saw a deep breath, a breath of what I would like to determine was resolve but will never really know, and she stood up and pushed that large stroller that states that it's easy to push, but lets be real it's never really easy to push a large minivan around, and walk out of the store.

I don't know her story. But, in that moment, in that 93 seconds waiting at the Starbucks counter, I was reminded of the incredible resolve of motherhood.

I saw part of my story, part of the motherhood story, in that simply motion of moving forward. It was a poignant glimpse, a reminder to me of motherhood and the strength of women.  Of those moments of the stretched thin days when the beauty of motherhood and the joy found in spreading peanut butter over bread while eager little faces wait for you to finish isn't as visible. Motherhood is so often this stretched thin like butter scraped over too much to do type of living. So much to do, so little of us, and we're trying to spread and spread and spread ourselves over everything and get it all accomplished.

Mom, where are my socks? Mom, I'm hungry. No, no, no, I don't want to wear that coat (and insert crumpling to the floor). Mom, I'm going to ask you another question. Why? How come? Why not? I don't want to do that. I'm not going! That's not fair. They got more. Negotiating. Baking. Cleaning. Cooking. Budgeting. No sleeping. Worrying. Praying. Trying.  Busy, stretched thin, over butter moments in life.

I know it's bottom line a beautiful thing. I know there are moments in there that we absolute must embrace, remember, and savor. But, you and me, and the mother waking up across the world, we live an existence where there is often more to do then there often is of us.

Part of what I love about life, and the lesson in the Lord of the Rings, is that even though there is fear, the perception of little strength, feeling small, and an undaunting task and mission, that no one sat home and did nothing. That's you. That's motherhood.

We rise up. We make that breakfast while sipping our luke warm coffee (does anyone ever get it hot?). We pull out clothes and offer choices and negotiate with the three year old who only wants to wear the same shirt again and again. We pull the clothes from the washer and throw them in the dryer and we fold and fold and fold. We strap little ones into carseats with sticky straps and kiss the top of that forehead as we race to the next spot. We stay up late and rise early.

It's this resolve, this tenacity, tucked deep that sometimes we forget to recognize. But not today, not today, dear mother. Not today. Today, today I am recognizing you.

I am recognizing the fact that you stayed up late and slept on the floor in the toddler's room. I am recognizing the fact that even though you were late you stopped for just a moment and smiled goodbye to your children. I am recognizing the fact that even though you were hungry you gave the remaining cereal to the kids. I am recognizing the moments where you found resolve from somewhere and stood up and kept on going.

That is strength. Real life giving life embracing life honoring strength.

Motherhood is strength. It is determination. Resolve. Laughter. Love. Beauty. Moments of joy. Moments of intense frustration. Hope. Optimism. Giving of self. Giving of life. Endless vacuuming. Motherhood is being stretched thin beyond what one could ever imagine and going to bed with a heart that is full and remembering the laughter tucked in the day.

To those of you having a beautiful day - embrace it, be thankful for it, and live today fully. To those of you who feel the need to put your head in your hands - strength, love, and deep gratitude for what you do. To those of you in the midst of a normal uneventful day - may you see the little things, the moments, and laughter.

All of us mothers out there. All with beautiful stories uniquely woven.

Somehow the stretching thin is easier knowing that one is not alone, to know that others are journeying with us, and when we remember the value and beauty of our journey. You are not alone. We are rising up, pulling up our boot straps, slapping on the super hero cape of motherhood, and we're continuing on. Motherhood is a powerful testimony of the determination of women who even though they are stretched thin continue on.

I recognize your strength. In fact, I see it so clearly sometimes that I want to stand on the street corner and keep shouting to you that you are making a difference. You, right now, where ever you may be - at work at home in the car in bed in the laundry room in the doctor's office in the chair with your head in your hands - you are making a difference. Maybe it feels little, inconsequential, that it's just tedious, that it's the same thing over and over, that it's tiring - but I am telling you, I'm aching for you to hear - motherhood is not something small and little. It's a life thing. A stretching of self over too little toast but still winning, still thriving, still moving kind of thing.

Onward brave mother. Onward.

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little things matter. the ripple effect moments in life.

My friend Amy shared a story with me about the impact that we leave with others. It was a raw story, filled with emotion, about how the effect of our words and actions leaves a ripple effect in the lives of others. It was about a moment in time that won't be forgotten and about the effect actions a stranger had on her life. One encounter, and yet, a life of remembering it.

So often I race through life unaware of the ripple that I'm leaving. I'm short at the store. I respond to my kids with annoyance. I scowl as I drive down the road late. I ignore holding the door because I'm focused on my own agenda. I complain about all that isn't going well and miss seeing the good.

Ripple effects.

Deep down, I don't want to leave a trail of negativity. In fact, I write so much about joy and seeking it and actively finding it because in that is a posture of the heart that embraces the positive. This world is full of negative - from the news, to sickness, to financial situations, to relationships - that there needs to be an effort to live more positive. Awake, in a way. It's this recognizing of the fact that we're not in this world for ourselves. As soon as we begin to look at this world through the lens of just me then we lose the reality of the impact we have on the lives of others.

What if we held that door for that woman racing into Target? What if we smiled more when we paid for our coffee? What if we got to know the names of the baristas at Starbucks? What if we paid for the coffee for the person behind us? What if we helped bag someone's groceries who was trying to deal with a two year old? What if we intentionally said something kind to those we meet? What if our words were tempered with grace instead of cynicism? What if we instead of life focusing just on me it's more on we?

Little things matter.

There's a reason I write about the little things - it's because those little things are really the big things in life. They are often the start of the ripple. It's powerful when we become aware of the little things and begin to appreciate them with deserved appreciation. Those little things are the normal things - the moments in life that we overlook so often, but that truly does matter.

My challenge to you today? To look for the positive, the good in life, and to be a person that changes lives. Maybe it's in the little things - the simple smiles and sweet words - or maybe it's in a big dramatic way. You have the power, the choice, today to make a difference. I believe in you.

It can be in doing life and reading an extra book. It can be in giving our kids the benefit of the doubt. It can be thinking of the good in people first. It can be in simply being a person who listens. Those things matter - it's the power in the moment when you choose to look beyond just you and see the world full of people where so many just need a breath of grace or joy or I believe in you.



Look for the positive. You and I and the next person are truly blessed with each day that we are given to live. We're blessed with normal. We just need to remember it. Remembering that will set our minds - it will set the target. If our target is to be a generation of people that gives others grace and looks to the good then we are truly powerful. We'll have days where we mess up, oh my, I've got plenty. You can read my archives about failing, and when I forgot to say yes, and on and on and on. But, you can also know that my heart is about believing in people, believing in you, and empowering you and me to know that what we do every single day matters.

In a world of so much harshness it needs more good.

Make a choice today. Look for the good. Be positive. Give yourself grace.

It starts with you and me and then next person and the next.

Ripple.

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for those of you interested in linking your friday favorite things post simply add your link below. This is week 110 of simple intentional finding joy in the little things gratitude. Blessings!

A Motherhood Cheer. Why the late nights, laundry folding, & orange peeling moments matter.

I pushed my hair up out of my face, wishing I could find that elusive pony tail holder, and wandered into the kitchen getting ready to make that first cup of brain clearing wake up now coffee. It was just after six, and my Elijah was already awake as I think he wakes up at the very first sign of light. He's the one that decides that when he gets up that everyone should be up. He'll start talking loudly and wandering around making noise - he doesn't know about the move like a ninja trick that us moms know about in the wee hours of the morning.  The dishes were behind again (I think I need two dishwashers), the prospect of snow in the forecast, and I was already getting bombarded with the mom cries.


Mom. Mom. Mom. MOM.

Brew coffee, brew. That was my cry.

That three minute Keurig Coffee Maker was feeling like it was taking about twenty minutes. As I stared at that red mini machine that I purchased for a deal after Christmas at Kohl's several years ago I thought about the list of everything to do on my list today. Laundry. Math. Taking the recycling out (yeah, it's on the list). Reading. Really, everyday, ordinary things that I've got on the list. And then there was the other stuff. Coffee date. Write two thousand words for my book. Finally move the bag of donate clothes from the door by the garage to the pile in the garage and actually call to have someone pick it up. That last step is often the hardest.

Mom. Mom. MOM.

I am literally a foot away from Elijah. I'm talking he's so close to me that I could start to count the hairs on that cute little head of his that often doesn't look as cute at 6:11 am. Sweet, early to rise, boy.

MOM. Can I play the ipod?

Here we go. Big pre-coffee sigh from me.

No, Elijah, it's morning right now and we don't play media in the morning.

And with that he crumpled to the floor and the day began. Before that three minute coffee was even brewed and my creamer added.

It's not too glamorous at times.



The ordinary beauty days are often covered under layers of to-do lists, mom cries, wiping up of spilled milks, expectations, not met expectations, and the desperate quest to find a pony tail to get that unruly hair back. Or, maybe that's just me. But, I don't think so. In fact, as I've been working on writing my book I've come to  the realization that often times we feel very much alone in the motherhood journey and yet sometimes we don't really talk about the tough parts.

Like getting really frustrated when they keep asking for an orange and you've said no a dozen times and all of a sudden you have a child throwing a tantrum in the kitchen. Over an orange. Or how sometimes you secretly wish for just 36 seconds where you don't have any noise at all. Or that sometimes, and I love doing this, instead of putting the clothes in the dryer because you missed the time to switch it, you simply run the wash load again to buy yourself just a bit more time before the folding and putting away begins.

Motherhood is hard in the midst of the beautiful. Actually, let's reverse that - motherhood is beautiful in the midst of the hard.



We still have to work - we work at home, we work away from home, we work in the home. And we still have to deal with crumpling to the floor five year olds over not getting an orange or playing the ipod. And we still have all the things that we love to do and it's this balance of trying to accomplish it all within a world full of expecations, measure ups, and make sure you do this as well.

Sometimes I feel like I want to crumple to the floor too.

And sometimes I feel like I want to pin that superhero motherhood cape on my back and run down the street to the park and scream that today was an awesome and amazing day. Because those happen as well. But most days, most days are just those kind of days where we're dealing with the dominoes falling and people upset about oranges, and kids fighting over who had the red lego with the flame on the side first, and tantrums on the floor, and knock knock jokes repeated, and no one wanting to do math facts, and you waiting for your coffee (or tea) to brew.

And then every once in a while you get a glimpse of how extraordinary what you are doing when you count to ten and wait for the coffee to brew and peel the 321nd orange in your motherhood days truly is. You get that moment of stepping back and seeing you, seeing you give of your heart - bit by bit by bit - to these little people whose lives will forever be changed by you. Someday you'll remember how you sat on the couch and helped with a crossword and tried to figure out the words with your nine year old for cashews and almonds without giving the answer. You'll remember how you sat up at 2 am and rocked your three year old back to sleep after they had a bad dream. You'll remember.

But you might not see it now. You might not see the extraordinary in the ordinary that you do everyday. And that is normal. That is okay. You and I are in the midst of the journey. In the part of motherhood that is very much the hardest - where the finish line (which sometimes we wish wouldn't come so fast) isn't visible and there are a bunch of roads to climb and it's work and we're having to herd many along with us.

It's amazing what mothers do. It's amazing what you do.

So today, today I lift my cup of three minutes brewed coffee from my Keurig and I toast you, the amazing mother.  I celebrate motherhood and in celebrating it I celebrate you.

Don't tell me all the times you didn't answer right, do it right, or where you wish you had done it different. I have those as well. But those don't define the extraordinary. Those are just bumps, bends in the road. It's the journey put together, the days woven together with tantrums over oranges and sweet moments of holding hands while walking that make a life.

Coffee mugs in the air. To motherhood and all of the beauty in the midst of ordinary.

Amazing.

Now, I'm off to peel another orange...and remember that cheer.

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light outshines darkness

This morning I read the news about the little boy who died in Boston as he went to hug his father who had just finished running the marathon. And my heart, my mothering, real person, believes in the good of humanity heart broke just a bit.

He was just a boy.

Last night my oldest daughters began wondering if that evil in Boston could happen here where we live and sadly, I had to tell them yes. Evil exists.

But we cannot allow the potential for evil to steal our joy.

That's the goal of this cowardly type of behavior - to instill fear, to rob of joy, and to freeze up culture. But we're a strong people - we're a community of people that will rip our shirts off of our back and help another person who is simply in need. All of the worries that were once so important will fade away and vanish as we move from extras to real need.

I've seen it.

But, we also get busy. I get busy and I allow things that aren't of as great of importance cloud my real important. I worry more about getting the living room floor clean then helping others get food on the table. I see my lawn and want it green and forget about those who just need water. It's a balance, such a balance. It's not about giving up and not taking care of the gifts in our home, but it's maintaining the perspective of the real importants. It's knowing, at some level, that all of these extras are truly gifts and shouldn't be thought of as just expected.

Life is a gift.

The little boys sitting at my kitchen table asking for another organic lollipop this morning are all gifts. Are they loud? Yes. Do the disobey? Yes. Sometimes do they get into trouble? Their room is a mess, their clothes with knees ripped, there are holes dug in my yard from them, and they often push me to my absolute limit. Yet, the bottom line is those boys are gifts. Blessings. Just as those in your life right now, those little ones that sometimes challenge, are gifts.

It's that beautiful normal that we lose sight of until it is ripped from us.

And then we see it again - this gift of life - this we don't know the brevity of our days but oh my goodness at this moment we are so grateful for them type of vision. We see the need to tiptoe into our little one's bedrooms and kiss them on the forehead and simply watch them sleep. We say yes to the sucker in the morning just this one time because we love them. We are grateful for the dinners at the table and the kids buckled in the car. And our heart mourns for those who have had normal stolen from them.

We cannot live in fear of losing normal. Then we lose.

However, we can live our lives with a posture that celebrates normal. We can set up checks in our day to remind us of the beauty in normal (read why vacuuming should always be beautiful). And we can remember that even though every moment will not be amazing that the moments that we do have to live our gifts. It doesn't mean that we are going to be happy, joyful, chipper, and optimistic every single second. It does mean that at our core we are simply aware that living, and life, and this day is a gift.

It's opportunity.

Today is an opportunity to demonstrate the good in people. Hold the door, smile at the person behind the coffee counter, email a friend and let them know you're grateful they're in your life, pick up the phone and tell someone you love them, play with your kids, and stop for a moment and just be thankful. Gratitude, practice it, practice it, practice it. Even if it is making yourself come up with just two things you are thankful for - do it. It's a discipline, this gratitude way of living, and at the core of it is an understanding of the unbelievable gift of normal.

My heart aches for those families in Boston. Aches. I don't get evil. But I do get, and do believe in the tenacity and spirit of you and me and others out there. You can make a difference. In fact, you do make a difference.

Bless others today. Be grateful for all you do have. Look for joy.

Light outshines darkness.

#prayingforboston

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seeing the beauty found in the in between

A follow up and reflections on the post beautiful ordinary motherhood days. 

In a world of completed projects, and do it yourselfs, and pinterest pins, sometimes there feels to be little space for the in between times in life. Space for the not quite so perfect, the tries, the flops, and the normal days. For the project that certainly doesn't look like it belongs on a pinterest board, that doesn't need to be photographed, and for the glorious mess of creativity that is often left behind.

The in between times don't get that grandiose look at me celebration that the ends do.

Though they should. Somehow the path to end has been blurred by finished pictures of the end. We're shown a constant barrage of endings all the time. Finished rooms, crafts, cookies, ball jar projects, clean vehicles, health secrets, gardens, kids clothes, school projects, Mother's Day crafts, and more. We plan our lives with a list of finishes - when we get done with this we'll do that, when this changes then I can do this, if only I can get this room the way I like it, this project, that job, it's all goals. Goals are good. Yes, goals and ends are good. Do not NOT have goals. I believe in them. In fact, I'm so goal orientated that I tend to lose sight of the everyday. Which is one of the reasons I write about the little things, about the journey. The end goals are beautiful.

But so is the in between.

I remember when I was little and would get these Lego sets. I'd rip open the box and I'd start to build. Piece after piece after piece after piece. There was this excitement, this work, this building, and anticipation of the end creation. And then, then the finished project would be there. Done. And part of me was just a bit sad.

I loved the building part. The creative. The steps. The working to see it completed.

Sometimes we miss that in a culture that celebrates the ends in life.

Get the trophy. Graduate. Get married. Have children. Go to Disney. Get the good job. Get good grades. Have a great yard (well, that seems to be the thing in my neighborhood). Finish this. All good things. Ends.

But there is also tremendous beauty to be celebrated in the moments in between the ends. Now I'm not talking about making every moment a faux image of perfection like we were waltzing down the street in Disney World. I'm instead talking about looking and celebrating our end goals but also looking at the in between moments with the same fervor. What if we celebrated the path? The steps? The process of movement? The times where we have to will ourselves to stand up again and keep trying? The times where it looks bleak and yet we hold onto the littlest strand of faith? The times when it just seems like failing and yet it really wasn't because we were trying? The mornings when everything is crazy and yet we sit on the couch and read a story? Or the times where the door is shut and we have to muster the courage to find a new door?

Think of the beauty found in the in between. In the times when we tried and tried and tried and even though it never worked how we imagined yet it still worked. It's in the kid's projects that don't look anything like the project on the screen and yet our kids are happy. It's in paint all over the table and paintings that don't look like much, but are masterpieces in the littles eyes. Pinnable? Maybe not. But, it's perfect. It's perfect because it teaches us, it teaches our children, about life. It's about perseverance, trying, not giving up, cultivating vision, and being creative.

The process, the working, the side by side struggles, often matters more than the end image.

Motherhood happens on the in between. Life is in the in between moments. The ends are the marks, but life, the story, is in between.

Remember that almost every end that you see took flops, steps, and perseverance. Attempts after attempts after attempts. I remind my children often about Edison and the lightbulb and all of the times he tried it. Or Samuel Morse up in the laboratory that also served as his home developing the telegraph. Trying, trying, trying. Over and over. And I tell them to imagine if they had stopped just one time before the end was there?

It's that trying, that in between places in life where character is born, tenacity is sharpened, and where the beauty of life and relationships happen. It's the start of courage and the beginning of strength. It's the little things, the moments, the learning, and the teeny joy moments of life.

There is always the in between.

It's that normal, that beautiful ordinary normal motherhood day, that the in between embodies. Really? Really it's life. Real life. And the beauty of life is most often found there - in the in between.

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ten simple ways to bless a mom

Ten simple ways to bless a mom - because sometimes, sometimes we all need a reminder of just how much we matter and that what we're doing makes a difference. ~Rachel

1. Call her. Pick up your phone, call that friend and simply tell her she's amazing. And if she starts to say nah, no, you're so kind you simply tell her to kindly be quiet for a moment and then tell her all of the awesome things she does. They don't have to be big things. Make them the little things - the time you saw her hold hands with her kids in the store or when she didn't lose her cool when the three year old forgot to wear shoes. Those things matter.

2. Send a note. Not as good as calling her, but still great. Make it a handwritten note. You can email her, but if her email is like mine she gets 392 emails a day that she has to deal with. Instead, take out a piece of paper, and a pen, and tell her how much you value her and how she's doing a great job as a mom. Feel free to buy a card in the Target aisle (but watch out for the crazy overloaded choices), but more than that, grab a piece of paper, write some words, and put it in the mail. With a stamp. I love receiving real mail. A note matters. And if nothing else, message her, text her, email her. Just let her know you're thinking of her.

3. Make her dinner. Or buy her dinner. Or take her out to dinner. Just get it set up so she doesn't have to make dinner. I don't know about you but coming up with 365 creative dinner ideas throughout the year actually makes my head hurt. A dinner taken care of? A total and worth it treat. And seriously, sometimes the greatest gifts are those friends of mine that do the kind of tuck and roll dinner drop off. They don't come in, don't linger, and don't add that stress of you yelling someone find an empty laundry basket and quick throw everything inside so that the living room looks presentable in the next 4.2 minutes. No stress. Bring the dinner, give a hug on the front porch, and simply drive away waving.

4. Flowers. I know, kind of a Hallmark kind of thing, but I'm telling you flowers in my home makes me happy. In fact, just walking into Trader Joe's and seeing that massive display of flowers everywhere makes me smile. Give a mom some flowers. One of the coolest things that ever happened to me with flowers was right after Samuel was first diagnosed with Celiac Disease and I stopped in Trader Joe's. I stood there, by the coffee, holding Samuel (who still had his hospital band on - we were stopping there on the way home from the hospital to buy our first of a life time of gluten free products) and I started to cry as I held the gluten free list of items. A sweet employee saw me, saw Samuel, and just started to help. She walked us around, grabbed items, and as we left ran to the display of flowers and grabbed a bouquet for us - from them. She still knows me, still asks about Samuel - little things matter - and flowers are a visible reminder that someone cared for you that day.

5. Offer to pick up the kids. Or carpool. Or just help out. The driving can get wearing. Help a friend - pick up their kids and bring them home. It's amazing how those extra minutes can truly let a mother step back, refresh, and gain perspective. Sometimes we all need a break (and moms that is truly okay) and some space. I've found that those little hours, those thirty extra minutes, can be an amazing time to accomplish a ton. Or take a little nap.

6. Bring her coffee. Or tea. Or send a Starbuck's gift card. I have had friends call me in the Caribou line asking what I want. I am telling you there is nothing more sweeter than a friend knocking on my door with a latte for me on a rainy Tuesday morning. It's a simple thing, but a meaningful thing. It's kind of the I thought of you out of the blue and just want to bless you thing. Again, it matters. And coffee always helps.

7. Just listen. Don't judge, don't fix, don't compare. Just listen. Sometimes we all need a friend to just be there and listen as we pour our hearts out about feeling like a bad mom because we freaked out that the milk spilled all over our clean floor and it was the whole gallon and we were caught up on the wash but had to use 7 towels to clean it and a whole bunch of Lysol. Listen. Smile. Laugh with her. But be a friend. Sometimes it is a blessing to have someone hear our story without needing to fix it.

8. Help. Don't always ask what can I do for you - just do. I am stubborn. And I mean super duper stubborn will tell you I am doing fine even when I am overwhelmed kind of stubborn. After Samuel was home from the hospital (one of the many times - love that boy) my dear friend Maria came over, with no taking no as an answer, and simply helped me deep clean my kitchen. She just gave of her time, didn't care that things weren't perfect, and blessed me. Sometimes we need to be the friend like that - just give of ourselves for them. Honestly, to this day, when I think of that cold day in February as she scrubbed my floor my heart wells with gratitude.

9. Plan time together and be real.  A night out. Something. It's easy for moms to put themselves on the backburner and not take care of their needs. Moms need to rest, to recharge, and to simply be. Plan time away and together. Those moments I have with friends in coffee shops are so valuable to me. Often this is a place of laughter, listening, and rest. But, be real. Authentic. We need friends that don't wear masks and where we can simply be knowing we are loved for who we are and not what we think others think we need to be. This world needs authenticity. Be that.

10. Let her know she matters. Which is really all nine of these put together - summed up. Moms can forget their worth and how changing diapers and folding socks and slapping peanut butter on bread and never seeming to get a solid night of sleep really makes a difference. Remind a mom that she matters. Send her those cards, or a note, or a simple facebook update, or bring her the coffee, or tell her she's doing a great job. Speak it. Say it. Words make a difference. You can be the voice that tells a weary soul today how much what she does matters. Sometimes we only see the messy parts, and need a reminder that even in the messy bits of life there is still beauty and the gift that a mother gives. Send her this link -> why moms are heroes to really remind her of her awesomeness.

Moms matter. Bless a mom today. Tell her how much what she's doing matters.

That's what I'm telling you.

What would you add?

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ordinary beautiful motherhood days

This week my schedule is a bit bare. Well, except for a pesky dentist appointment for me to get a cavity filled. At my age, which I'd like to think is still quite young. Sigh...we won't go there, but good grief, I feel like I'm twelve or something. Anyways, as I write this and look at a schedule full of white blank days I can feel this sigh of relief.

Less to do.

It's the ordinary day, really. Normal.

This weekend I was talking with friends about how easy it is to lose perspective on the beauty of normal until normal is gone. I shared about my post - why vacuuming should always be beautiful - and thought about how I, too, had lost sight, once again, in the gift of simply normal. It's so easy to let the simple things, the little moments, lose the true value of their importance.

Normal gets qualified too often.

It's just the dishes, just the laundry, just reading a story, just sweeping the floor, just wiping the noses, just running errands, just working, just doing this or that or whatever. There really is no just in front of normal nor is there just in front of mom.

Normal is ordinary. Normal is beautiful.

But normal can be boring, hard, annoying, challenging, tedious, overwhelming as well. There are still kids to manage, bills to pay, houses to clean, relationships to tend. It's normal. Ordinary things, ordinary days.

And it all matters.

When I speak about celebrating motherhood I tell a hypothetical story about how when I'm old and sitting on my front porch sipping my sweet tea (with lemon) with begonias around me (I must be moving from Minnesota in my projections of the future) that the things I think I will remember won't be the huge events - they'll be the little things. The normal moments in life.

I'll remember those days spent rocking newborns to sleep in the chair. The times sipping coffee in the morning listening to the laughter from littles sitting on the couch reading. I'll remember this is the best dinner ever cries or I love you's that I'm blessed with. And, I'm guessing, those are the type of  things you'll remember as well.

The normal, everyday, beautiful ordinary things.

Now, I'm not telling you to love every single moment. As I wrote on facebook this weekend I'm not ever one to endorse putting a faux smile on one's face and pretending that every single thing is perfect and one to remember. Sometimes sweeping is just sweeping. And laundry is just laundry. And motherhood is just hard. (Those are times to use just). No. I'm about being real. Authentic. Recognizing that there are days, weeks, months where it's hard. That there are times when motherhood isn't very likeable. That sometimes you feel like you're failing. And yet other times you realize how amazing you are and how much you matter. {those are all links - if you need encouragement - please read those.}

What I am telling you, today, is that no matter how you feel about motherhood, or how messy life is, or how fabulous today is, or how ordinary it is - that motherhood is a life changing, life mattering, real life giving thing. The reason for that image of me in the rocking chair with sweet tea (to which I would add lemon - I know, gasp - but I'm from Minnesota) is that it reminds me to see the beauty in the ordinary.

The kids don't see the perfect house or perfect mom or perfect routine.

They see the little things. The beautiful connected life type of things. They see you in the morning and take comfort in knowing that when they get up you will be there. That matters. They see the dinner on the table - they might not know the struggle you went through to make it - they see dinner. They know clothes will be in the drawers and if not that you'll dig through the piles of laundry to find that favorite shirt and the matching socks. They know you'll pick them up after class. They know you'll help with homework. They know you'll say good night and tuck them in.

Beautiful. Ordinary. Motherhood things.

And those things are life things. Life is beautiful type things.

Remember that today.

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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.