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Breathing Hope

Hope that progress, small and steady, can be made. Hope that can be found in the belief that Jesus hears your cries, and holds you closely. Hope that there is purpose in this journey, and that joy can still exist - both within the journey and on the other side of it. I won’t pretend that the darkness isn’t real. But I will light the candle regardless.

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Jesus Wept

And then it’s so very easy to spiral down a guilty drain for feeling how I feel. . .I shouldn’t be sad, I shouldn’t be worried, I shouldn’t be disappointed with any aspect of my life. How very selfish of me. How very, very, very Un-Jesusy.

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Strong

I’ve only space for putting one foot in front of the other, for wiping my face and the kettle bells, for checking on my daughter, for keeping my shoulders back, for breathing. There is no space left for embarrassment or humiliation. Only enduring.

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Musings on Motherhood

But on the other hand, motherhood is a complicated title and arrangement that I wouldn’t have without those three beautiful, exhausting noodlemuffins. And while I’m not feeling up to the task most days, overwhelmed with the difficulty of raising these children to adulthood, keeping them safe and whole and kind and brave, and then letting them go off and make their own mistakes, I also cannot for a single minute imagine my life without them.