Do you remember the fable The Tortoise and the Hare, Mama?

The hare challenges the tortoise to a race one day, overly confident in his speed and ability. He decides at one point that the tortoise is so slow, that he can take a nap and still win the race. More modern versions have him stopping for a snack prior to the nap. All along the tortoise remains steady, one step at a time.

It’s been almost 14 weeks since my misstep resulting in a broken ankle and fibula. In these past few months, my healing and recovery has been a steady, but slow process. I’ve graduated from using a knee scooter, to walking in a boot, to walking with a very pronounced limp, to walking at about 80% capacity. But I’m still not running yet.

At my doctor’s appointment this past Wednesday, the x-ray showed my fibula is still not fully healed. I won’t be running tomorrow, next week, and maybe even next month.

I can’t help but see how this parallels to my walk with the Lord. Some days all I can do is put one foot in front of the other. Opening my Bible, meditating on scripture, praying for my husband and children… These practices sometimes seem mundane, like taking steps. But these are fundamental, and necessary if I want to move forward and make any progress.

I’ve been so tempted to get discouraged and focus on what I have not yet been cleared to do-running and high impact exercises to name a few. But the truth is, taking steps is a big deal for me in this season. It’s not something to be overlooked, but to be celebrated.

I need to remind myself that a few weeks ago I wasn’t able to do what I’m doing now. Fourteen weeks ago I was preparing to go into surgery and couldn’t walk. Seven weeks ago I couldn’t walk without a boot. Three weeks ago, I couldn’t walk as efficiently or as far as I am walking today.

It’s easy for me to focus on where I’m not at yet, but I have to remember where I’ve come from before I can celebrate where I’m heading. Once again, this reminds me of my spiritual journey. I was once dead in my sins. Dead in my transgressions. Thanks to Jesus, He saved me from death and brought me into eternal life!

My journey these past few months has not been fast or glamorous, but much like the daily grind of motherhood has been slow and steady.

Do you remember who wins the race between the tortoise and the hare, Mama? It was the tortoise, who faithfully put one step in front of the other.

I was recently presented with the idea that each ovary can produce a different emotion. I think this is an interesting theory and would have to say that some months I seem more angry and jealous, and others more sad and disheartened. So I have a theory…Perhaps I have an angry/jealous ovary, and a sad/disheartened ovary.

Needless to say, it’s been an interesting few days with this Mama’s sweet daughter having some intense emotions, and navigating the ups and downs of homeschooling. It ain’t easy, that’s for sure.

Ever since an early age, I’ve sensed my daughter is very linked to my cycle. It makes me a bit wary of what’s to come when her own cycle begins.

There’s been some intense moments in our days. I wouldn’t say intense days, as in the 24 hour span, the moments only last maybe 15-30 minutes… but those minutes have left me feeling so drained and wiped that it takes everything within me to muster up the strength to push through. And then I’m reminded that I shouldn’t have been doing this thing called motherhood and homeschooling and wifing on my own strength to begin with.

It’s these times of the month that force me to take a hard look in the mirror and not blame my sin on my time of month, but instead face it, recognize it, confess it, and ask for forgiveness.

It’s very similar to my current situation. Eight and a half weeks ago I broke my fibula and ankle. Seven weeks ago I had surgery. The atrophy that has occurred in my right leg and calf muscle as a result of not walking on it is extreme. 

The same occurs with my spiritual muscles. When I am inactive in prayer, being still before the Lord and seeking His voice, and reading His Word… I get weak. I think I can run, but I can’t.

I’m learning to walk again, literally. Currently I’m in a boot and it’s baby steps. I have to listen to my body and slow it down, still remember to ice and elevate, and not push it too hard. 

At the time of my monthly visitor, I’m reminded I need to have a heart check—and often. When my kiddos are struggling to regulate their emotions and I fall into the temptation of yelling or being unkind with my words… I’m in serious need of some physical therapy. The Holy Spirit is the Ultimate Physical Therapist, willing to help strengthen my muscles so I can run again. 

Psalms 94:18-19 says, “when I said, “my foot is slipping,” your love, O Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.”

Whether you’ve fallen playing soccer with your son, or fallen short in your everyday life, turn to Jesus, Mama! He’s there to support you with His love and bring joy to your soul!

In May 2013, my Babes and I returned to the U.S. after an eleven month journey called the World Race.

August 2013, we packed our bags once again and moved from Florida to Georgia where I landed a second grade teaching position and my Babes an internship with Adventures in Missions.

Shortly after moving, we discovered I was pregnant. After having no income for one year. After moving away from our family once again. After moving to a city where traffic was horrendous on my daily drive to and from work.

I struggled daily to find contentment, to find something to be thankful for. The Georgia gray skies were depressing. As my belly grew daily, I found it hard to fit behind the wheel of Whitey Tighty, my afternoon 1997 Corolla on the cool winter mornings. My classroom was the trailer that was farthest away from the school, and more importantly the bathroom. And the day we went to move into our apartment, we discovered they gave it away to someone else.

I felt strongly that I needed to do something to help stir up gratefulness in my own heart. One morning on my drive to work, I created a thankful song. It’s so simple, but any time I would feel the gray skies pressing in, I would sing this silly song. It helped change my focus to the blessings in my life.

After all, the Lord provided a beautiful home for us to live in. After being sad about the distance between my family and I, God provided family and community in a unique way. After all, the Lord had provided the job and a new scenic route to school that didn’t include as much traffic. After all, the Lord provided the blessing of a firstborn son.

A friend of mine who lives in Georgia texted me a few days ago and reminded me of my thankful song. I have sung it through many seasons over the years, and the tune is a little quirky and silly.

I was reminded of the importance of stirring up gratitude in this very unusual season of quarantine. I am sure that this is not what many of us hoped for or anticipated for 2020. Mamas, it’s ok to be honest with God about our disappointments. Surrender them to him and then take a moment to be thankful for your blessings.

Thank you God for a place to live.

Thank you God for the food that you provide.

Thank you God for my job at VIPKID.

Thank you God for my healthy familyyyyyyyyy.

(The last line I usually stretch out quite a bit.)

How are you stirring up gratitude in this season, Mamas?

“Enter His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise; give thanks to Him and praise His name.” Psalm 100:4

Once I entered motherhood, I wasn’t sure where my quiet time disappeared to. I always enjoyed waking up early in the quiet of the morning and spending time with Jesus. Beth Moore was my early time bestie.

But then sleep came in two hour increments, and I was struggled to keep up with the day to day chores. Finding an hour to sit and read where I wasn’t dozing off was rare.

I was at a loss. I thrive on structure and learn best visually through reading and QA formats. I remained focused when praying through journaling to prevent my mind from wondering in a million different directions. I found it challenging to hold my journal and pen steady while breastfeeding.

I needed to switch it up, and pronto. I was using the above as excuses to not spend time with Jesus. When I haven’t spent time with Him, it’s not pretty. My flesh becomes super fleshy. My weaknesses become weaker. I try to do this motherhood and life thing on my own strength. Like I said, not pretty.

I was resistant to any further transition because the new developments in my life were dramatic enough. I didn’t know if I could handle anymore.

However, I was tired of making excuses. And craved that sweet Jesus time.

Here are a few tips that helped me in this season:

1. Switch your Bible version. I had been reading NIV, NLT, and even NKJ for years, grew up in Sunday school, and was becoming bored with the Bible. I know that’s not a very Christian thing to admit, but it’s the truth. My mom bought me “The Message” bible for my first Mother’s Day, and I found it was so refreshing. It was like God Himself breathed into His Word and made it alive again for me.
2. If you prefer someone to guide you in your time, switch up the guide. I discovered Jen Hatmaker’s “Out of the Spin Cycle” my son’s first year of life and it was perfect. It’s quick, humorous, Jesus-centered, and relatable to Mommyworld. My current favorite is Paul David Tripp. I love his study, “New Morning Mercies,” where he presents the beauty of the gospel on a daily basis.
3. Switch up your time, make time, and be flexible. Like I said previously, I used to have my quiet time at the same early morning time every day. When a newborn entered my world, I found it effective to read something on my phone, or a devo that didn’t require a ton of writing. I also found it helpful to do it whenever I felt most awake. Sometimes I listen to podcasts while I run. Other days I put on worship music. Your quiet time is unique and there are opportunities to be creative in how you use that time.
4. Switch up your expectations. Like I stated previously, I have found journaling to be very effective for me. However, it was somewhat unrealistic for me to journal every day. I recently made a goal to journal once a week. This is attainable for me in this season, and helps keep me grounded in my prayer and reflective time.

What ways do you connect with the Lord, Mama? Do you have any favorite guides or authors you are reading?

In the past week, I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night to my jammies and sheets drenched in sweat.

This fondly reminds me of my early postpartum days when I would perspire profusely every evening as my hormones aspired to find a new normal.

I’ve always been a heater at night. I must, however, have a blanket to snuggle with. Which means the AC needs to be adjusted to a cool temperature before cocooning myself and drifting off to dreamland.

Ah, the beauty of a thermostat. With just a few buttons, you can create the temperature your heart (or hormones) desire.

A thermometer is also a helpful tool, especially when our little ones are sick. A thermometer simply reads and communicates the current temperature in the room or person.

A thermostat, however, can be adjusted. Levels of hotness or coolness are changed based on what is needed in the current environment.

Let’s look at this real life scenario:

It’s 4:45 pm. Both my kids have eaten dinner. Most days I’m scrambling to put somthing simple together or serving leftovers for the third time. Our house has toys strewn over every square inch (or so it seems), the ground is covered with quinoa and whatever else we had for dinner (have you ever noticed how quinoa gets in every nook and cranny on a baby’s little body?), and it’s time to give the kiddos a quick bath before taking the family car to go pick up daddy from work so we can come home and they can bond for about 18 minutes with Daddy before brushing teeth, reading stories, and tucking them in bed. Oh, and all this needs to happen before 6:30 to prevent anyone getting overtired and missing that precious small window of oppurtune time to fall asleep.

My firstborn child starts to melt down at a rapid speed and high volume. My second born proceeds to throw herself back in the bathtub because she deeply desires to touch everything with her sticky dinner hands before you rinse her off AND doesn’t want the drain to be plugged in because where would the fun (or bath water) be in that?

Some days, I’m a mothermometer. Some days I give into the current temperature and allow the chaos to effect how I discipline, respond, and interact with my kiddos. My volume matches the volume of the firstborn and I’m throwing myself backwards mentally in my head.

Other days, I’m a mothermostat. Those days I choose to pause and ask for some much needed help from Jesus. When I rely on His strength in the midst of my weakness, I am able to contribute and change the current atmosphere in my home.

Despite the outward chaos, that sweet peace that passes all understanding rises up and words are spoken calmly.

What are you, Mama? A mothermometer or a mothermostat?

I have a major case of FOMO. My college years consisted of jam packed schedules with multiple jobs and events. Cleaning jobs, babysitting jobs, a retail position, serving at my church, fun get togethers with friends…I barely stopped to take a breath.

I graduated college, began my career as an Elementary teacher, and got married all within a years time. My itinerary the first few years of teaching consisted of multiple week night commitments, my Saturday filled with homeless ministry and a standing dinner. This was in addition to navigating the balance of grading papers, testing, and all the balls teachers juggle.

Then a good friend recommended the book Boundaries by Dr. Henry Cloud. This book was life changing for me.

Fast forward a few years and I entered the beautiful challenging world of motherhood.

I was not aware of all the opportunities available for babies…music class, story time, gym class. The numerous supplements granola mommy bloggers said my kids had to have: cod liver oil, probiotics, multivitamins. The need for community as a mom, and the diverse ways I could seek this out: bible studies, life groups, MOPs. The multiple invites to play dates. The family get togethers.

I struggled to say no because I struggled with the fear of missing out.

One thing I’ve discovered over time is that sometimes saying no is really saying yes.

When I choose to say no to a family dinner at 7:00 pm, I am choosing to say yes to my children’s need for sleep. I am saying yes to our routine and the peace that results in babies that are well rested.

When I say no to an 8 hour church event on a Saturday, I am choosing to say yes to our family time. Family time that is so rare and precious with a Daddy who works so hard to support our family Monday through Friday.

When I say no to filling my shopping cart with those extra want-not-need items at the grocery store, or no to eating out, I am choosing to say yes to our budget. I am being a good steward of the resources made available to me.

My no, and my yes, will look different in various seasons. They will vary from other mamas.

For so long, I’ve focused on the no but I want to focus on what I’m saying yes to. Yes to putting God first and family second. Yes to intentional family time and Sabbath. Yes to financial freedom.

What are you saying yes to, Mama?

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Sometimes (okay, a lot of times!), it’s easy for me to get stuck on the mistakes I make throughout the day. My blunders, my son’s “oops”, or the hilly “hiccups” in a normal day can become a focused mountain if I allow it.

Sometimes (okay, a lot of times!), a Mama just needs to relate to other Mamas with the same struggles. I’ll quickly pull out the phone, send a text with an urgent request for prayer and advice, and feel encouraged by the sharing of their stories.

Sometimes (okay, a lot of times!), my vulnerability could quickly transform into negativity.  A few months ago, I was convicted with this truth.

I am all about transparency and keeping it real in my Mama world. However, if the focal point of my day is the one incident where my son didn’t listen, or the nap my daughter didn’t take, I’m missing out on celebrating the small wins in our day.

I was recently reminded of this after a field trip to Bush Wildlife Center. My son struggled at the end to listen to another Mama. As we walked to the car, I was contemplating about how I would lecture him on the way home.

That still small voice whispered, “Is that the one takeaway you want to remember from the few hours you were here? Remember the time he kept his hands behind his back near the baby alligators? Recognize his generosity sharing his snacks at lunch. Praise him for not running too far ahead and sticking close with the group. Honor his positive choices.”

So I did. I led him in a “win sandwich” conversation. I asked him what are some things he did well, pointed out a way he could improve, and then called out the great character traits I saw on display-his generosity, his love for his sister, his inquisitiveness to learn about the animals…

Sometimes (okay, a lot of times!), I challenge myself and my Mama friends to share the small wins of their day. What are your small wins to celebrate today, Mama?

“So encourage each other and build each other up, just as you are already doing.”

–1 Thessalonians 5:11