the mom handbook

inspired by my mom confession post from last week.

No two children are ever alike.

No two mothers are alike. Amen.

No two stories will ever be alike.

When they are still, which will be rare, take a picture.

There is grace to start over again. At 8:30. 8:40. 8:42. Well, you get that picture too.

When kids clean their room all clothes immediately become dirty clothes. Trust me, you'll find them in the laundry and then at that point those clean clothes are truly dirty clothes.

It's normal for the back of your vehicle to look like this during October.

Laundry becomes a source of discussion between you and your friends. It will be called Mount Washmore, the enemy, and the bane of one's existence. By the way, what is your strategy?

The days when you need coffee the most will be the day you have no way to get coffee.

What works for one child won't work for the next. Think you got potty training down? Think again.

Sleep will just be a distant, and lovely, memory.

Hold those sleeping in your arms babies just a minute longer before you attack the to-do list. You'll remember that, not that the to-do list was completed.

Tshirts from Target make acceptable and appropriate Target shopping attire. Important note: While shopping at Target don't wear a red tshirt. With khaki pants. Ever.

Construction sites by your home become an unbelievable gift. And break.

Juice, milk, food, or anything of comparing value can equally be poured into separate containers with children watching who need to make sure that absolutely everything is fair and equal.

Instagram becomes your family scrapbook. (I love instagram. like love. Find me -> finding_joy

Shoes become a nemesis. When one is late there will always be, and I repeat always, one shoe mysteriously missing and you will spend precious minutes searching - under couches, in the closet, in rooms, in the car, by the back door, downstairs, in the kitchen, anywhere for that shoe.

Instead of counting to ten you skip count to one hundred. Twice.

When people ask you what do you do you've learned to just smile.

What you do - stay at home, work, work at home, work part time, etc... -- that stuff doesn't define mothers.

Always keep an emergency stash of chocolate in two places. Make the second place the emergency supply for when the emergency chocolate is gone.

The plastic cups from Ikea are your go-to beverage holder choice.

Your phone will have preschool apps on it.

Sometimes you just need to laugh.

Teaching them to ride a bike requires training for yourself - in running, not tripping, catching, and letting go.

Actually, most of motherhood is a journey in letting go.

It's really really letting go when you let them drive the teeny cart.

That's so not fair are words you hear in your home everyday.

You multitask like you were on steroids.

Tag removing from clothing becomes normal.

You have pinterest boards specifically designed for cleaning difficult things. Like permanent marker on laminate flooring. Don't ask me how I know about that one - like perhaps coming home and seeing the entire floor covered in permanent marker drawings.

Saying I love you is a daily, and most important, thing.

Saying I love you is so easy when they're in bed sleeping looking perfect.

Remember that motherhood is really a brave thing. Don't question that. Celebrate it.

You can get coffee with your bff with children that are unruly and still look perfectly calm.

The words I'm hungry, I'm starving, I'm actually really hungry, can I have a snack will also be frequently heard.

Even though there is a great deal of apparent hunger what you made for dinner will not be the solution.

You will spend many many many hours discussing snacks.

Did I mention that the words no fair will frequently be heard?

A break often consists of a trip to Target or the grocery store by yourself.

You know that motherhood is a gift. Most days.

Little things matter. Always.

How about you? What would you add? I'd love to add them to the post and build a cool collection of mom notes.

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Today's photos? All real life live from the instagram feed. Find me there at finding_joy
Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

Want to read some you got this brave mom letters? Check out my ebook with 21 original letters.

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

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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.

perfectly imperfect motherhood revisited

In case you were wondering, I was the gal at Costco with 72 eggs in her cart on top of 13 pounds of oranges and bags of lemons. And then I became the gal at Target with another 3 dozen added to my cart next to the fifty cent a bag Easter grass that I always regret purchasing because it makes such a mess but it's such a part of Easter.  As I pushed those 36 eggs through the checkout the sweet gal swiping my groceries over the scanner commented on the amount of eggs I had purchased. Inside, I thought if only you knew how many were in the back of my car right now as I smiled and told her I had a big family and that the kids love to color those eggs. Those cartons of eggs, white and unadorned made there way in the trunk of my little car full of food and to my home.

When are we going to color the eggs momma? Now? Now?

Boiling 108 eggs is no small task. Not at all. It means multiple pots boiling and bubbling and windows cracked and moisture on the window. It means little ones running in and out and wondering if they're done. It's bowls of ice water with hot eggs dipped in them so that the shell doesn't stick and cracked eggs waiting for littles to sample them. It's the kitchen timer set, and cooling racks set out, and the afternoon March sun flittering through the window.

And then the 97 remaining eggs are doled out. Counted one by one by one to eager hands waiting to color them perfectly. Hands grab the eggs and drop them in colored water cups - with vinegar as well because the color is so much more vibrant - and hope began. Hope about creating the most beautiful egg - it's the anticipation, the creativity, and the seeing of an idea come to fruition.

But then, one drops. The color isn't right. The crayon drawing is not what was imagined. The dye spills and leaks through the layers of adds covering the old farm table. There isn't a spoon. The colors get mixed. Fingers are stained. There isn't the color that one wants to use.

It wasn't what was expected.

The anticipation of the perfect looking Easter egg that would be the crown jewel ended up looking nothing like what was imagined in the mind. The blue is faded, the cracks larger, and the color seeped through. And then, five year old Elijah holds up this cracked egg in his green and red stained hands with a proud smile on his face.

It's beautiful momma. Beautiful.

Even in the not expected, in the imperfections, there still was beauty.

So it is with life and motherhood. When we're little there are the dreams, the perfect plans, the ideas, the trips to Disney, the kids who just listen, and all of these amazing goals. And then life, and real motherhood  happens - with the cracks, bumps in the road, and colors that didn't turn out anything like we planned. And it would be so easy to look at life and think that it looked nothing like we had planned but then sweet friends we would be missing the beauty in the life we are living right now.

Motherhood is often like those eggs - moments where the color runs everywhere and there's a big crack down the side - and little ones who don't see all the mess ups but rather see the beauty of the moment with you by their side. The moments are the beautiful things, the time together side by side coloring in a book, and side by side in the car. It's a collection of moments, next to each other, some plain, some beautiful, some with deep cracks, and some unexpected that make this beautiful collection called life.

And yet, in the middle of it all, often we're surprised at how some of the most unexpected moments are the most beautiful. Celebrate yours today. In the midst of the messy, the unexpected, and the normal - look for the simple gift. Motherhood can be overwhelming, challenging, and with many of those spill moments mixed together with the you're the best mom ever and perfect feeling days. The balance of both is what creates the beauty in life. If it was all just the same it would be just the same, but it's in the imperfections, the hard times, and unexpected moments that causes us to see the beauty in the other moments of life.

Life is colorful. And that makes it beautiful. Celebrate the gift of your today. Embrace the moments, give yourself grace, and find moments to laugh in this perfectly imperfect beautiful motherhood.

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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.

surviving the domino effect days of motherhood

I had in my queue a post ready to go for today - it's a lovely and fun post listing sweet moments in motherhood. But, then real life hit, and part of my goal of being a writer is being real and sharing some of those real life moments with you all. I believe we grow when we're transparent - especially if it isn't just a vent fest, but rather is more a sharing of my heart and the lesson learned.

So here goes.

Yesterday was a domino effect day. And I mean a domino effect day where the dominoes are set up multiple times in hopes that the day will redeem itself and each and every time it is knocked over before the last one is set.

As I sit here typing, I can't even pinpoint what exactly made yesterday just one of those day. Even as I moved around my kitchen preparing lunch I kept mulling over hypothetical Dear Mom letters to write. Dear Mom Who is Tired of Making PBJs. Dear Mom Who is Going to Pull All of Her Hair Out. Dear Mom Who is having a Really Bad Day. Dear Mom Who is Having a Horrible No Good Day. Dear Mom Whose Children Decided to All Have a Bad Day on the Same Day. Dear Mom... Well, you get the picture - a falling dominoes kind of day.

It seems as if all four of my boys decided to wake up on the wrong side of their beds. And this takes tremendous skill as their beds are pushed against the walls and getting up would somehow be impossible. But, they, amazingly, still managed to accomplish the same feat. Whining, no fair cries, more cries, complaining, fighting, complaining again, and all of that was constant. Remember my domino analogy? Well they were knocking over the dominoes faster than I could reset them.

It got to the point where hearing each whine was making me literally want to sit down on my kitchen floor and have a good pity cry. In fact, I think I did shed some tears for a bit. Finally, I put several in their rooms to read and another on the chair to do their reading and I went and rested on the couch. For just five minutes, I told myself, just five. (And moms, if you need to step back when you get overwhelmed, then you must allow yourself the grace to do that.)

After about 15 minutes Samuel, who also joined that getting out of bed on the wrong side club, wandered over and asked to rest by me. I gathered him in my arms and held onto him and then that sweet boy, who had thrown a tantrum an hour earlier, whispered to me I love you mom.

Love me?

Love me. The mom who had declared that she had enough. The mom who was worn out with the constant and repeated whining. The mom who decided for lunch that day it would only be Kirkland Honey Roasted Gluten Free Ham on a plate with Pirate's Booty and some strawberries. I didn't make a sandwich or roll the meat - I just put it on the plate and called it good. He loved me. Even though I said a bit too sternly would everyone please just be quiet for just an amazing 58 seconds? And then I got irritated at the mess and all of that. He still loved me.

These domino effect days simply happen, sweet mothers. They happen. I have them, you have them, and the hypothetical, though I'm sure it's out there, mom with the perfect pinterest board pin for cute ham roll ups for kid's lunches has them. They are normal.

The crazy thing is that when I wrote this it was in the afternoon of that domino effect day. I was sitting at my table, and Grace was working on some homework, Samuel sleeping on the couch, and the boys playing quietly downstairs. The sun was streaming on my back, and my house was absolutely peaceful. The same day.

Motherhood is about constantly choosing to pick up the dominoes and resetting them. You know they are going to fall, but we keep picking them up, making new paths, doing the laundry, dealing with issues, going up and down, and rejoicing over the great accomplishments. Gradually we move forward and the dominoes that once fell will happen no more.

Breathe, mothers, breathe.

That is what I kept telling myself as I held Samuel as he fell asleep in my arms yesterday. Breathe. Those crazy hard all the dominoes are falling over moments in the morning don't define a mother. They don't define motherhood success. They are just real.

Pick up the domino. Stack it well. You will get through those domino effect days.

I'm joining with you.

Start again - one domino, one day - at a time.

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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.

The Strength of a Mother. (Meet Joel)

Real short, real sweet, and very powerful. My good friend Dan, from Letters from Dan, sent me this amazing video (Meet Joel) that portrayed with profound beauty the depth of a mother's love, her fight, and the strength that moms demonstrate. He warned me that I wouldn't get through it without getting weepy.

He was right.

I cried and I wept and I nodded and smiled and cheered and mourned and was ultimately filled with awe at the strength of this sweet mother to little Joel. She inspires me to grab today, to savor this moment, and to be grateful for the normal days tucked within the fabric of life. Joel's mother is real - a fighter, a believer in the good, and an example of grace even in the most heart-breaking of times.

And that is why I'm sharing the video with you. I'm sharing it with you because it is a reminder to me, and to you, of the amazing strength that mothers (and fathers) have within. Let the video remind you to live fully today, celebrating the little moments, finding joy, and being grateful for the children in your lives.

Here's the video. Grab your kleenex. And hug your kids.

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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.

Dropping the Masks. Why We Need Authentic Moms.

Some thoughts on the comparison pressures on moms found in the world today and how we can become an amazing culture of women that rally around each other, supporting each other, and whispering true words of you matter to each other.

I've read stories to my children about pioneer families that supported each other - giving food, raising barns, being there for each other in thick and thin. They didn't have the stress of pinterest, Better Homes and Gardens, and the internet pressing on them everyday. They had real stress - survival. Yet, in that place of survival they also realized the value of not only supporting their own families but being there in support of others around them. Women would give of food, of time, and of self to help other women around them. It wasn't about perfection, but was rather about relationship.

Our culture has become saturated with should haves, need to dos, don't forgets, and ways to measure up that sometimes it's easy to forget the intrinsic need of actually being there for each other versus comparing our lives with each other. I know I do. But here's the deal, normal is the piles of coats and boots and gloves and stuff dumped out on the floor that we never let others see even though it happens each winter. That entryway? That's mine. Not organized, color coded, or perfect. Just coats and mittens dumped out by a seven year old looking for a matching glove.

You and I cannot control pinterest, or facebook, or what's on television, but we can control our reaction to it. You can choose to loosen the mask of perfection just a bit and to let others into your life even if it isn't perfect. Perfection is just an image, really. It's an image that pushes us to forget to forge connections and instead we spend time keeping everything tight and neat and all the ducks in a row while we run ourselves into the ground exhuasted.

Even though we as a culture are more connected then ever with each other, we as a culture are feeling more and more alone. I know. I read every comment and email that you've blessed me with and I hear those I feel alone words. And my last post Dear Mom Who Feels Like She Wants to Quit I read those words more and more and more. Here we are, more connected with each other, and yet feeling very much alone.

Let's change that.

We can do it. You and I and the next person and the next can choose to be a generation of women that opens our doors to our neighbors and doesn't apologize that the living room isn't spotless but instead welcomes them in, looks them in the eye, and tells them how glad you are that they came over. You and I can slow down the comparing and instead figure out ways to give, to listen, to support, and to encourage.

The beauty of this is that we will together be teaching our children that life isn't about climbing a never ending ladder of faux perfection, but rather that life is about linking arms and encouraging others to continue on, that they matter, and that truly one is not alone in this life journey.

You matter to me. Before I write I think about the words that I'm going to share. I ponder life, and my journey, and the comments that you've shared, and I think about how this platform can be a place that motivates change and encourages. So today, today I am being bold and writing about the unspoken but very obviously there competitions between mothers out there.

Let's drop the masks. Let's be real.

You know what? Mothering is hard. Plain and simple it is hard. But, you can make a difference in not only your life but in the lives of those around you. I believe in you. You can look at those in your life and thank them for being in your life. You can tell that mom in preschool whose toddler is refusing to put on their coat that they matter and that they're being a good mom. You can listen, be a friend, and make a difference. I know it.

That's my challenge to you.

Moms. You and I will make a difference in this world.

You matter.

The mom on your block matters. The mom in the store matters. Moms matter.

Share those you matter words. No more masks, but more authentic, more real.

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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.

2 Minute Grateful List {a challenge with a free printable}

A grateful list.

I need a grateful list today. It's raining, and I don't feel great, and I'm nervous about Samuel's doctor visit, and I'm feeling overwhelmed with how underplanned my homeschool is for the fall right now, and there is laundry to be done, and the house needs a bit of work. I need, well, I need perspective.

I really need gratitude.

And sometimes I forget gratitude when I am in the midst of feeling like I am treading water. So instead of treading and thinking about everything that I can't seem to get done or have yet to do or don't know how to do I decided to sit down, set my timer for two minutes, and be grateful for all that is good. Simple things, really. Like this:

My 2 Minute Grateful List.

coffee

family

rain falling outside

samuel's health

freedom

sound of chatter around me

ballet

kids laughing

clean living room

cards left on table after a game with the girls

buds on the trees

music playing

writing

blogger platform

my purse from New Zealand
my friends who stayed with me in NYC

memories of my weekend

groceries in my fridge

my sweater

clocks

dryer that is running while I type

homeschooling

math {ha ha, yes math}

chocolate shakes

baseball games in the backyard

In the midst of being grateful, and making myself look at life with a different lens, the posture of my heart shifted from discontent to thankful. It was two minutes of my day -- just two minutes to change my perspective.

So now, I challenge you.  Right now where-ever you are. Write a grateful list.

It will only take two minutes. Here's how.

It's about the little simple everyday finding joy things.

If you'd like a 2 Minute Grateful list printable feel free to grab either of these grateful printables {they're hosted on google docs}. The thankful one works fabulous with kids - start teaching them about looking for awesome and wonderful things now and you'll be blessed by what they share {mine like yogurt, and a mom that gives hugs, and tomatoes from the garden}. Just take the time, those two minutes, as a family, or individually, to write down and remember the blessings that are all around you. Be blessed!

Click 2MinuteGrateful to download your free 2 Minute Grateful List Printable.

Click I'mThankful to download your free I'm Thankful for Printable.

What are you grateful for today?
What did you remember to be thankful for during your two minutes of gratitude?
For those of you who follow the finding joy facebook page - feel free to take a pic of your 2Minute Grateful list and share it on my page - I'd love to see them!

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there's no guilt in rest

I'm sorry, I just have to sit here for 10 minutes and close my eyes. 

I'm talking to you today.  You, the mom, who apologizes for needing to sit for just a minute and rest. You, the mom like me, that whispers those words about rest and being sorry to need it.

You the mom that has lost the grace of giving yourself rest. Now, I've written about rest and cultivating rest and the need to rest and being intentional in rest, but I'm not writing about that today. Today, I'm writing about giving yourself grace in your day and being willing to embrace the need to rest.

Here's why:

You get up at dawn - or before that. You start moving from the second you're up, only pausing for the Keurig coffee maker to get that coffee brewed. There's no creamer, but you keep going. You pour bowls of cereal, wipe messes, clean spills, all while unloading the dishwasher. You stop a fight over who gets to read the back of the cereal box. Again. You continue unloading the dishwasher, realize the laundry needs to get moved from the washer to dryer. Race to fix that, trip over a toy on the stairs, and clean up the landing. The phone rings, then the inbox on email screams that it's got over 485 new messages all that should have been answered yesterday. The littles finish breakfast. Up the stairs to find clothes for them and you're greeted with a room where your four year old, bless his heart, tried to find his shorts which always are in the bottom drawer but her forgot, and now the entire dresser is spread out over the floor. Underneath all those clothes are the three boxes of toys that were dumped out but you ran out of time sorting last night. At that moment, an older child wanders in, asks if you can drive them to this place or what the schedule is for Friday and what the plans are for the day. Someone yells that there's no toliet paper left in the house. Down the stairs, back to the kitchen with it's partially unloaded dishes and empty cereal bowls on the counter. It's now eight o'clock. In the morning. And the to-do list from yesterday still sits unfinished on the counter.

The day moves like that, right? You're busy - maybe deep down, you're exhausted. I know I am most days. But, I keep going, keep pushing, keep working, keep driving - even though I just need to learn to sit still. Sure we talk about cultivating simplicity, and the need to rest, and we read and pin pictures of restful spots on our boards - but do we really rest?

Do we give ourselves grace to sit still and drink that coffee that brewed in the morning and read a book? Or take a nap? Or chat with friends? Or forget the agenda and read books with the littles in the morning?

Or is it met with guilt?

I should be cleaning the kitchen. There's more laundry to fold. Those toys need to be cleaned up. When will I get the weeding done. I shouldn't be sitting right now.

A mother who doesn't give herself grace, and grace to rest, will soon become burnt out. Bitter. You know how it is - all those things that we have to do will begin to be the things that we grumble about. Complain. Resent. Because we're exhausted, my friends! Exhausted. Wilted under the never ending to-do list. Then we utter apologizes for filling our tank, resting, reading, taking a nap - like we are less of a mom, a woman, a wife - when we need to rest.

I'm not talking about being lazy. I'm talking about talking about being okay with recognizing that it is good to be still for a bit during the day. To nap {gasp} for a bit while the littles nap. To read that book without worrying that you should be folding the laundry that second. To take a walk with your family and not care that the kitchen isn't perfectly tidied up.

We all have a finish line in this life. I want to live my life, running the race, but being intentional. Filling my tank, my reserves along the way, and not feeling guilt about being, well, human. Real. The to-do list will honestly never ever get done. You know that - there will always be another list of urgent things to accomplish. Taking a rest, breathing for a bit, it won't change the outcome of the list.

But more than likely, taking a rest and giving yourself grace in resting will change your perspective.

It's ten minutes. Thirty minutes. An hour. In an entire day.

Mothers, there is no guilt in rest. None.

It's needed.

Grace, my friends, grace.

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the real pony tailed me

Let me just start with this - I wear my hair in a pony tail most days. Seriously. If you came to my door mid-morning, I'd probably be wearing my black yoga pants, a teal shirt, and my hair in a messy pony tail. There would be dishes waiting to be loaded, the pillows that were once on the couch would now be in a pile on the floor, and the math sheets would just be getting started. I'd probably have a load of laundry waiting to be folded, and the boys room would have blocks on the floor, and you might hear a John Deere movie playing downstairs in the family room.

That's me. The real me.

It would be so easy to write about, well the perfect idea of me. The gal who gets up at the crack of dawn, and makes home-made gluten free bread, and has all the homeschool lessons planned, and tends her garden well, and never ever raises her voice.

But, that's not me.

So I see a post of mine from Monday {some {important} mom facts} -- A post that gets liked with that facebook like counter quite a bit -- and I'm not talking about that crazy liked Udi's Snickerdoodle Gluten Free Pudding Pie one as that one is in a realm of it's own. So me, the mom of seven with her hair in a ponytail and remnants of mascara on her eyes from when she ran to the grocery store to grab more jelly and toliet paper, starts to wonder what to write next.

And I'm stuck.

My life? Well, we didn't do anything amazing today. We just did life. And I made mistakes. I wasn't focused when I should be, and I was a bit impatient, and was on facebook too much {I just needed to see if there would be new pictures of my friend's dear baby...}, and the house still has the pillows in a pile. That's my life. And because of that like button I started to think that life wasn't enough.

But, you see, it really is. We live in a world of airbrushed, photoshopped, editing perfection. It's all around us -- telling us we won't measure up, or we'll never be good enough, or we need to do more of this, or be skinnier, or work out more, or eat only organic, or teach our kids this way, or, well, insert what you must. That is too much. Too much pressure.

We're moms. Wives. Friends. Sisters. Daughters.

And we're human. Not perfect. With our hair in pony-tails.

And that? That is okay.

It is more than okay. It is good.

Sometimes the most beautiful moments in life come in the simplest things. That stack of pillows? That was a fort. The unstarted math sheets? They're sitting there because we read instead. The dishes in the sink? They're just there. My pony tail whipped up hair? I'm busy. I'm a mom.

And I'm real.

And that, that my friends, who are my readers who click that little thumbs up like below, that is who I am. I am not perfect, my life isn't packaged with the perfect bow.

So thank you for supporting me, the mom, the wife, the writer, the way you do. I am so grateful. My hope? My deep down hope? Is that when you click the exit to close my page that you leave feeling hopeful or encouraged or grateful or thankful or intentional about life. And that you know that me, the person on the other side of the screen typing these letters into it, is grateful that you take time out of your day to bless me by reading my words.

Thank you. And I mean it.

Now, go and embrace you. Don't let pony-tails, magazines, pillows on the floor, like button likes, math sheets just started, tweets, retweets, and all that other stuff define you. You have worth. Value. What you do, day after day, night after night, wiped nose after wiped nose, dishes washed, hug given, folded the clothes, played with toys, pony-tail wearing, and tended house matters. It matters.

You matter.

intentionally still

Today is a day where I need to be still.

I tend to try to run the race of life too fast. So fast that I miss the simple beauty in the everyday. I run and run and run and run until the point where I either fall or am exhausted. I see that pattern in my life. A pattern of constantly racing, and as I wrote yesterday, constantly working.

The working, the running, it keeps my mind busy.

It's like a crutch. The more I become busy the less I have to really think about some of the hard stuff in life. So I run. Full force. And I work. Too much. Adding more to a schedule that is already too full. Losing site of the beauty in the everyday.

Yesterday, I was reminded to be still. I was reminded of the gift of life and the importance for me, for us, to step off of that racing track at times to just be thankful for where we are and to see the goodness around us in all circumstances. Sometimes, we move so fast that we miss, we forget, to see the beauty right in front of our faces. I do that -- the moving all too fast -- always looking for the next thing to finish but rarely resting in the finished.

I need to sit and rest. To allow myself to be okay to not run some days. To let myself think, to pray, to laugh, to be real. Not tucking the emotions into my sleeve and smiling the half-smile. I don't have all the answers to stuff in life. I'm just a mom, a wife, a friend, a sister, a daughter, who tends to run too fast in life and then  writes about how she stumbles, or falls, and picks herself up again.

I've been running fueled by me. And I ended up exhausted.

So today, today I am intentionally still.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.  

He makes me lie down in green pastures. 

He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. 

He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Psalm 23:1-3