Burtonsville MomCo -- 2026-2027 Registration is Open!

 

Are you still looking for the village you assumed would arrive alongside your baby?  Good news, we’ve built one for you.

MomCo is the motherhood community you’ve been craving.  Join our local chapter to connect to other moms who get it.  Even if your “it” is heavy, or sticky, or sleep deprived.  We have moms meeting in every season and stage of motherhood.  So we can basically guarantee that no one will be surprised by your toddler’s meltdowns or your preteen’s mood swings.  

In a meet up you will join your new mom friends to learn from our amazing  MomCo curriculum, discuss the daily struggles and joys of mom life, and have some fun…..all to help you feel like you again.

You’ll lighten the load by learning to rely on each other, and you’ll find your village that has your back in the thick of it.

Burtonsville MomCo meet up

Join us, Wednesday mornings September to June.  Registration is now open by clicking the "Registration" tab above.

What: A bi-monthly moms meeting

When: Wednesdays from 9:30-11:30 am

(dates listed to the right)

Where: Resurrection Catholic Church

            3315 Greencastle Road

            Burtonsville, MD 20866

Why:  Because we need Jesus and each other

How: By the grace of God and a fleet of minivans

If you'd like to know a bit more about MomCo and what happens at our meetings, be sure to check out our "About Me" page and if you'd like to register, check out the "Registration" page.  We look forward to seeing y'all soon!

Popsicle Play Date!  Come chill with MomCo and find out what we're all about.  Wednesday July 15 from 10am to 12pm at Maryvale Park & Splash Pad in Rockville.  We look forward to meeting you!
 

Burtonsville MomCo -- MOPS and MOMSnext 2025-26

Who:  MOPS -- Moms of kiddos from birth - kindergarten

MOMSnext -- Moms of kids grades 1-6

What: A bi-monthly moms meeting

When: Wednesdays from 9:30-11:30 am

(dates listed to the right)

Where: Resurrection Catholic Church

            3315 Greencastle Road

            Burtonsville, MD 20866

Why:  Because we need Jesus and each other

How: By the grace of God and a fleet of minivans

If you'd like to know a bit more about MOPS and MOMSnext and what happens at our meetings, be sure to check out our "About Me" page and if you'd like to register, check out the "Registration" page.  We look forward to seeing y'all soon!

Finding Marital Connection During COVID-19

 DOROTHY LITTELL GRECO APRIL 16, 2020 SELF

We all know that we need to nurture our marriages. Thanks to COVID-19, date nights are off the table and frankly, most of us are so physically and mentally exhausted from what this season is asking of us that we can barely muster the energy for a hug.

But given that we have at least another month of confinement and disruption from our normal routines, how can we make sure that we don’t end up completely disconnected?

When I’m in crisis mode – which aptly describes this season – I tend to become very businesslike. I’m efficient, but not exactly gentle or warm. That can leave my husband feeling distant from me.

Frankly, we can’t afford emotional distancing at this time.

I need him and he needs me.

The psychic toll that the climbing death rates, the uncertainty of who’s carrying COVID, and the daily interruptions in our normal life have left us both feeling vulnerable and scared.

And the truth is none of us are immune from the external and internal turmoil caused by this microscopic virus.

Though all of our scenarios are slightly different, there are common ways that we tend to respond to chaos and disruption. It might manifest as trying to micromanage your household. I actually asked my husband to ration his almond butter consumption last week because we are almost out and I feared we wouldn’t find any more! We might self-medicate by consuming more than normal amounts of comfort foods or binge watching Netflix.

Eating an entire bag of chips in one sitting is much easier than giving voice to the panic that has washed over me on several occasions during the past few weeks. But in addition to the extra pounds that are surely accumulating, coping behaviors  won’t necessarily help me to meet my spouse’s needs—or get my own deeper needs met.

If we can identify what we’re feeling and what we need from each other and then communicate these discoveries to our spouse, we’re more likely to find points of connection and move toward each other.

Some of those needs might be simply logistical. Given that the boundaries between work and home have blurred, what do you need to get through your day?

My husband and I need the exact opposite environment in order to get our jobs done. He’s a drama teacher who leads worship on the weekends. He thrives on social interaction that borders on chaos, mess, and constant give and take with his colleagues. I need quiet, order, and to be left alone. Our first week of shelter-in-place was not pretty.

Now, four weeks in, we have a brief “production meeting” every morning to make sure we don’t interrupt each other at the worst possible moment. (I chose to make myself a fried egg the other day thinking he was done leading worship for his school’s chapel on Zoom. He wasn’t. The smoke detector went off thirty seconds before he needed to start the final hymn. Oops.) We also delegate day-time chores (which I normally take care of) and cast lots for who goes grocery shopping.

Finding the time and energy to connect as lovers has been much more difficult. (And we only have one almost-adult child living with us.) As I talk with my friends who now have young kids at home all day, they concur: not much is happening between the sheets other than fitful sleep.

In an effort to be intentional, my husband and I actually decided to abstain from sex until after Easter and direct our energies to prayer (see 1 Cor. 7:5). This has felt deeply meaningful—though at times quite difficult. We’re also choosing to hug more often and longer and make sure we snuggle most nights before bed. None of these meet the same needs as sex but they are keeping us connected which is important.

Though we are not necessary meeting each other’s sexual needs at this time, we are working hard to connect emotionally and spiritually.

We’re praying more. And we’re regularly coming to a full stop and asking each other how we’re doing. Putting your devices away, holding hands, looking each other in the eyes, and giving your spouse your full and undivided attention for fifteen minutes does wonders to help ease any aloneness or feelings of frustration. (And do be honest with each other. This is not the time to pretend you’re doing well if in fact you’re struggling.)

Hopefully, we’ll come out on the other side in another month or two. In the meantime, don’t waste this opportunity to learn news ways of loving and supporting your spouse.

---

Dorothy Littell Greco is the author of Making Marriage Beautiful and the forthcoming Marriage in the Middle. She’s also a photographer, mom, and wife. When she’s not working, she loves to walk in the woods, bike on flat surfaces, and kayak slow rivers. She lives with her husband of 29 years and their fluffy cockapoo outside Boston.

The Same Team

The Same Team || Mary Carver | marycarver.com
My husband and I spent our 13th wedding anniversary with a marriage counselor. It was more romantic than it sounds. And while I can’t tell you we have a perfect relationship now, we will celebrate our 20th anniversary this year in a much better, healthier place than we could have imagined on that day seven years ago. What helped us most was our lousy counselor and the knowledge that we were on the same team. At first our counselor seemed nice, but eventually we came to the conclusion that she was actually a terrible counselor. She asked bizarre questions, focused on the least important part of our discussions, and assigned us ridiculous homework. And each time we met with her, we had to remind her about our background, our problem, and our progress. So the counselor we saw wasn’t great, but coming to that conclusion with my husband, though – Kind of great. Throughout our relationship, the thing that glued us together was the mindset of “we’re in this thing together; we’re on the same team.” And we’d forgotten that. Being on the same team meant we fought together, not fought each other. It meant we recognized the true enemy (hint: it wasn’t either one of us or even our counselor!). For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this darkness, against evil, spiritual forces in the heavens. - Ephesians 6:12 After years of unmet expectations and disappointments, we’d unknowingly worked ourselves into a combative relationship. It was me against him, and neither of us was winning. When we took time to reflect on our relationship – the good and the bad parts – we remembered that the times we felt the closest were when we worked together on a project, when we faced a common “enemy,” when we cheered for the same team. Nothing changed our attitudes faster or led to more healing than when we realized that the team we needed to cheer for was us. As teammates we began talking more, problem solving and coming up with ways we could fix our mess together. We turned back toward each other, linking arms and leaning on our faith, becoming as strong as a cord of three strands (Ecclesiastes 4:12). I’m not telling you that everything was roses and sunset walks after that. It was certainly a process and something we still have to remind ourselves occasionally, so we don’t fall back into old habits and turn on each other at the slightest provocation. We have to remind ourselves which team we’re cheering for. I’m thankful for that counselor, even though she was far from what we initially hoped. I’m grateful our sessions with her reminded us that we were in this together – and that we are fighting for this, for us – together.

DEEPER DISCUSSION: • What helps you remember that you and your spouse are on the same team? • What do you need to say or do that will make your team stronger?

Mary Carver is a wife, mom, writer and recovering perfectionist who lives for good books, dark chocolate and television marathons. After a lifetime of trying harder and doing more, she’s finally learning to give up on perfect and get on with life. Read more at marycarver.com

Hospitality- Accepting Others' Invitations

Accepting Others’ Invitations || Alexandra Kuykendall | alexandrakuykendall.com

A blanket on the floor. A few cookies, goldfish crackers and carrot sticks sitting on a mishmash of plastic dishes. It all looked a little familiar. I knew where those cookies had come from and wondered how this little hostess managed to get to the package stored high up in the cupboards. Most important to this familiar scene was a girl dressed in her finest ragged princess dress thrown over the day’s regular leggings and long-sleeved T-shirt, wearing her most important accessory: a smile stretched across her face, proud of the picnic tea party she was offering. I’ve lived some version of this invitation many times in my house. I’m raising four hostesses who have spent some magic preschool years creating a “feast” and setting a table with me in mind. They’ve then approached me with “Mommy come see!”, “Sit with me!” or “I made this for you.” Turning down their invitations was never an option. I always needed to sit and admire all they had done, verbalizing my appreciation with every bite. To not, would have been to minimize their hard work in setting a space for me. Hospitality is a spirit of welcome - a posture of inclusion. It can be carried out in practical ways that often involve nourishing our bodies through food and a place to sleep. We see Jesus experiencing hospitality throughout his short life. He accepted many invitations of the mishmash sort, meals specially prepared, and places to lay his head. In most of these stories he was not the host, but the invitee accepting the gracious, yet imperfect invitation of others to welcome him in. As we consider the idea of setting the table for someone to come and join us, let us not forget to accept the invitations our neighbors offer as well. Because when we do, we acknowledge their hard work and their efforts to set a space for us. We see the special trouble they’ve gone to, no matter how humble the offering, to make us feel at home. Accepting others’ invitations is as much hospitality as offering them. Because it is the spirit of welcome we all long for.

DEEPER DISCUSSION: • When is it difficult for you to accept a neighbor’s invitation for hospitality? Why do you think it is? • Who would you like to spend more time with? How can you say “yes” to their invitations with more frequency? • How has Jesus set an example for you to accept others’ invitations? How can you bring your spirit of welcome to another’s space?

Alexandra Kuykendall, a trusted voice for Christian women, speaks on issues of how faith impacts everyday life. She is the cofounder of The Open Door Sisterhood, a community of women working to be world changers for good right where they are. She cohosts a podcast and retreat under the same name. Alex has authored four books, her most recent, Loving My Actual Neighbor. Alex lives in the shadows of downtown Denver with her husband, Derek, and their 4 daughters who range in age from 16 to 7. You can connect with her at AlexandraKuykendall.com.

The Perfect Advocate

Jesus – The Perfect Advocate || International Justice Mission | ijm.org

In Luke 4, Jesus returns to Nazareth to begin his ministry. In the synagogue, he reads from the words of Isaiah: The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. - Luke 4:18-19 We have no better model for advocating for the oppressed than Jesus. In everything he says and does, he champions for all of us; we all need rescue, redemption and love. On earth, he was never afraid to confront leaders on their shortcomings. And he willingly acted against laws that oppressed the poor, like not healing on the Sabbath, and criticized religious leaders for misusing the temple. Jesus lived a life of radical love to all those in need of a savior. His challenges to authority led to his death, but he never strayed from his message of love and justice. Christ is the perfect defender and advocate. Therefore he is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them.

- Hebrews 7:25 My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have an advocate with the Father – Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. - 1 John 2:1

Let’s pray these things together: Pray against the powers perpetuating injustice and preying upon the poor and vulnerable. Praise God for his promises to bring freedom and restoration through Jesus Christ. Ask God to show you how to be his hands and feet for preaching good news to the poor, proclaiming freedom for the prisoners, and setting the oppressed free.

• Think about places in the Bible where you see Jesus as an advocate for the needy, the afflicted, the outcast and the oppressed.
• Read Luke 10:25-37 and think about how this story teaches us how we should stand up for the vulnerable.
• In what ways did Jesus model advocacy for the poor?
• How can we model the balanced attitude of justice and love like Jesus?


This study is based on a devotional created by Jessica Horner, an IJM Church Mobilization intern. Used with permission.

About the importance of finding female friends.... Jen Hatmaker has a few words to say on the subject (from Chapter 5 of Out of the Spin Cycle):

I'm a terrible driver when I'm alone. It always seems like a great idea at first. I relish the notion of being the in the car without the following verbal barrage assaulting me like tiny, individual daggers stabbing away at the thin flesh of my sanity: "Mommy? Do you know how to teleport?" "Mommy? How many seconds have you been alive?" "Mommy? What's five billion times ten million?"

But the reality of driving alone is much different that the beautiful, peaceful theory. I get bored. I get tired.

I should have brought a friend. Friends help you uphold he heavy responsibility of motherhood and remind you you're not crazy. They don't complain when your kids interrupt your phone conversation every twelve seconds. They gladly enter the parenting discussions that our husbands lose patience with after only the fourth time. Friends don't even bat an eye when you burst out crying for no good reason.

The way we love each other, serve each other, and live our lives with each other is a big deal to Jesus. At the beginning of time, creation encountered its first problem: "It is not good for the man to be alone." Thus history began with human connection. Two are better than one, and togetherness is always superior to loneliness.

Never was I more susceptible to isolation than during young motherhood. It can be such lonely work. Because my personality required a scheduled routine, for years I fed and dressed babies, cleaned up, put someone down for a morning nap, engineered lunch chaos, put kids down for afternoon naps, cooked dinner, bath time, story time, bedtime. I'd sit down for the first time at 8 p.m.

It was hard to make room for my friends. But I did it. We had playdates down to a science. We put babies to sleep at each other's houses, bathed them together, fed them together, ate at Chick-Fil-A so often the manager knew us by name, and picnicked at every park in the greater Austin area. I changed their babies' diapers as often as mine. We put each other's kids in time-out. I administered first aid to their children, and they pulled mine out of the swimming pool. We've traded kids, taken kids, borrowed kids, and dumped kids.

My friends are the reason I survived young motherhood.

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another. John 13:34-35.

If we are to love each other like Jesus loved us, then it makes practical sense to band together during young motherhood. Because–like Jesus does–we'll end up loving each other when we're crazy, burned out, hysterical, and exhausted. We'll stand by one another during the most neurotic phase of parenting there is. We don't let a member of our tribe slip under the radar or get swallowed by isolation. We share the burden of parenting, making it lighter for everyone to carry. We'll remind our friends to laugh and call forward the best in each other.

Motherhood is the task that brings us together, but love is the glue that binds us together. if we're too busy to love each other like this then we're too busy. We need our friends. We need the counsel and companionship; they need our compassion and comic relief. "You must love one another, " said Jesus.

We really must.

Are you enjoying the tribe of young mothers, or are you lonely and isolated? Reach out to another mom or group of moms today. Invite them over, plan a playdate, arrange a picnic, whatever. Need a friend? Be a friend.

Excerpt from Out of the Spin Cycle by Jen Hatmaker, http://jenhatmaker.com/out-of-the-spin-cycle.htm

The Rules || Katie Westenberg | ichoosebrave.com, mops.org

 Each time my family purchases a new game, the evening goes down in a pretty predictable fashion. See, we have these kids who are (finally!) outgrowing Candyland and stretching into the land of strategy and thinking games. (Yes, it really does happen eventually.) So when we find a new game, we gather our tribe around the table and read through the rules carefully. Our four kids frequently interject with a dozen questions because none of these rules and instructions quite make sense in the learning process, and my husband and I have almost no answers because we’re still trying to figure it out as well. Welcome to the beauty and tension of family game night, where we typically end up pleading for everyone to be patient and it often turns out to be a learning opportunity in more ways than we bargained for. Maybe you have been there? I can’t count the times I have heard a mama friend sigh the words, “I wish there was a rule book for this,” as she moves into a new and challenging season of motherhood. One kid struggles with friends or seems to have hopped on an emotional roller coaster without warning, and there is always that second or third child who is doing things nothing like her older siblings did. Motherhood is humbling and often we’re thirsty for someone to just tell us how to do this well. We’re all in, just please, someone tell us how to handle all the nuances of relationship and personality, creativity and gifting, for the unique combo of kids God has given us. Tell us what to do and we’ll get right on it. But that is not quite what God has for us. We’re begging for rules and he is after relationship. He looked his disciples in the eye and said “Follow me” because he wasn’t just going to tell them; he was going to show them what it meant to seek first his kingdom. Before his ascension, Jesus told us that it was to our advantage that he was going away because he was sending us a helper to guide us in all truth (John 16:7,13). Do we even begin to understand how awesome that is for us? We have a helper - the ultimate helper - to call on in our frustration and confusion, our weakness and desperation. The next time you find yourself looking for a rule book, a better instruction guide, stand firm on this promise: We don’t need more rules, we need more Jesus. And when we ask, we can be certain he will be near.

Katie Westenberg is a wife and mother to four, who is passionate about fighting fear and living brave. She writes to inspire women to live their bravest lives at “I Choose Brave” and many other places online. Married for 17 years, she lives in the Pacific Northwest and enjoys small town life outside the city limits.

The Good Shepherd || Kelli Jordan | mops.org

"I’ll be honest, I’m not a big fan of sheep. When I was young, we went to a petting zoo. My little five-year-old self felt cornered by the big sheep, so I ran out of the sheep pen and right into the goat island … where a goat grabbed hold of my clothes. My mom got great pictures but didn’t intervene in time to save my favorite shirt. (I don’t judge her – I’ve done very similar things as a parent.) As a general rule, I tend to avoid petting zoos, goat islands and all sheep pens. I would be a lousy shepherd.

In John 10, Jesus used the relationship between a shepherd and his sheep to help those listening grasp the idea of living the kind of life Jesus offers. In this passage, Jesus is the shepherd and we are the sheep. But Jesus isn’t just a shepherd, he is a good shepherd which makes all the difference for his sheep.

Read John 10:1-15:
“Very truly I tell you Pharisees, anyone who does not enter the sheep pen by the gate, but climbs in by some other way, is a thief and a robber. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice.” 

Jesus used this figure of speech, but the Pharisees did not understand what he was telling them.
Therefore Jesus said again, “Very truly I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who have come before me are thievesand robbers, but the sheep have not listened to them. I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out, and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it. The man runs away because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep.”

“I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep.”
Jesus is the kind of shepherd who pays attention to his flock. He knows where they are, what they need, what may be causing them stress. He is the kind of shepherd who provides exactly what his sheep need – pastures to graze in, clean water, shelter, rest. He is a steadfast and trustworthy shepherd who is always on the lookout. He is the gatekeeper –nothing comes in or goes out that he isn’t aware of. He isn’t the kind of shepherd who runs away when things get a little crazy. He loves his sheep too much, so much that he is willing to lay down his life to protect them.

Our theme verse for this year, John 10:10, describes the kind of life Jesus (the Good Shepherd) wants for his children (the sheep). The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”

Life to the full means living under the care of the Good Shepherd – growing familiar with his voice, resting in his care, protection, hospitality and life that he provides.

Kelli Jordan is a mom, grandma and mentor living in the Kansas City area. She walked into her first MOPS meeting 25 years ago and now supports moms and leaders at MOPS International as Leadership Development Manager. She loves reading, game shows and is always willing to meet up for a glass of iced tea.

2019-2020 Theme Reveal

The Theme for the 2019-2020 year is To The Full. See the video for the full theme reveal!


To The Full from MOPS International on Vimeo.

A fresh start and an open heart...

By Taryn Ramsammy

Ever since this Florida girl has moved up north, Fall has been my favorite season. Since becoming a mom, September in particular has always brought this wonderful feeling of renewing and refreshing. September was the month we became parents and accepted our first placement of foster sons, and since then every year that day feels like our family birthday, where we reflect on the past year and dream about the next. Now that our oldest kiddos are school aged we have an even more literal new year starting every year at this time and I think I look forward to it more than actual New Year's. 😝 It's such a blessing to feel like I have a clean slate and a fresh start at whatever I'm striving for, and my hope for this new year of MOPS is that all of you feel that too!

My first year in MOPS, I was a mess! I had three babies, and zero local momma friends. Our family is 1000 miles away. My husband is in exam cycles twice a year. So on top of being tired and stretched thin, what I remember most about that first year of motherhood was the loneliness. Back then I was a newborn photographer, and one of my clients came for a session. I know she had to have seen a little bit of crazy in my eyes because after chatting for a bit she looked at me and said, "It's time you join MOPS." Y’all. She was so right. I set my alarm and was probably the first person registered that year. I was desperate. But it turns out I was also real proud.

Either the crazy was still in my eyes (very likely) or maybe I had HELP ME written on my forehead (also entirely plausible) because from the first meeting I was surrounded with so many offers of support—from women I had just met. It was so foreign to me! I’ve always been a talker, so sharing at my table came natural. But I think that’s where I expected it to stop, because that’s how I had been going for so long—vent on the phone to my sister about whatever aspect of mom life I was particularly struggling with that week, then hang up and make it work on my own. So wasn’t the meeting just going to be another vent session? NOPE. These women didn’t want to just hear my struggles. They wanted to help me through them. But again I was too proud.

That whole year outside of meetings or play dates, I stuck to myself. In my head accepting that offer of help was admitting that I was failing the mom game hard. If I was taking their help, then clearly they were doing way better than me because I definitely wasn’t put together enough at that point to be offering anyone help. (Turns out the real reason I wasn’t offering was because I had NO FRIENDS to offer help to. #humbling 😂🤦🏻‍♀️) But honestly, I had prayed and longed for motherhood for years. God had finally fulfilled this deepest desire of mine so shouldn’t I be eternally grateful and just put my big girl britches on and figure it out like all of them seemed to have done? That's the headspace I was in. That's how I thought it was supposed to be. But y’all. God does not intend us to walk this road alone.

And let us consider how to stir up 

one another to love and good works, 

not neglecting to meet together, 

as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, 

and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.

-Hebrews 10:24-25 

Motherhood is hard y'all. Really dang hard. Especially in these little years where we're losing more sleep than we did in college, where we're usually covered in at least one other person's puke (there's another college connection there--but honestly I'm just too tired to come up with it), where our privacy has evaporated and we go hours and hours some days without any adult conversation. We may be out of control of most of that. But that last part is up to us. We might not be in charge of how many diapers we are going to change that day or how many questions we will have to answer about the inner toddler workings of the world or how many LEGO’s are going to get crushed into our feet. But we are entirely in control of how we are going to fill our soul, of who we are going to surround ourselves with, of how we are going to strive to focus on the blessings before us. For me that comes in large part through fellowship. 

I so regret sticking to myself that first year, for in the few that have followed when I have allowed myself to let my guard down I have gained so much. I have built such amazing friendships. I have experienced the grace and love that comes from not only receiving support but also giving it. I have learned from women who have broadened my faith and made me a better mother, wife, and over all human being. So my prayer for you all this year is that you don’t waste the time I did second guessing yourself or feeling less than or unworthy of support, for we know those anxieties are of the enemy’s making. Instead I pray that you would come into this year with an open heart. Allow yourself to open up to your table, or to the mom you meet at a play date or in line for breakfast. Share your heart and take advantage of the support God has put before you. Surrender daringly, and breathe freely here for you are fearfully and wonderfully made and we are so grateful to have you. 💛

Before My Eyes

By Cassie Glubzinski

On Thursday last week my daughters and I had an epic start to our day. My oldest is in kindergarten, and she rides the bus to school. I live right off of a traffic circle, but our neighborhood is not usually busy. Often I let my girls run ahead on the sidewalk, but on that day I told them to wait for me for some reason, and I quickly discovered why.

There's a young man in our neighborhood who attends high school. He's a good kid, but he is most definitely not known for his exemplary driving. Thursday morning was no exception.

As my daughters and I approached the edge of the inner traffic circle and prepared to cross the far side of it I saw this young man's truck coming way too fast (and getting ready to cut the circle by going the wrong way) toward us at the same time as I saw a dump truck coming the other way.

I literally grabbed both girls tighter and jerked them back toward the center of the landscaped area of the circle, and we stood less than twenty feet from a head on collision.

Thankfully, no one was hurt, but my heart would not calm. I frantically looked down checking to make sure both my daughters were okay. By the exclamations coming from their mouths I could tell that they were, but I felt far from alright.

"Mommy! That truck crashed!"

"Yeah! He didn't go the right way!"

I had to walk my children around a crash site just to get my daughter on the bus.

As I walked I found myself holding tighter to their little hands, to the point that my youngest asked me to let go because I was hurting her. I apologized and picked her up, but I wasn't willing to let her go.

Once I got Gemma on the bus I walked back and checked with the two involved in the crash. They were taking pictures of the damage to both vehicles.

As I approached them my first question was if they were okay. They both assured me that the only damage done was to the vehicles, and that they were fine. Upon further questioning I found out they had not already called the police, so I took the liberty of doing that myself.

The teen who had caused the accident was literally shaking once I got off the phone with the police.

"Are you alright? Are you cold? Do you need another jacket? Or would you like to sit in the cab of your truck until the cops arrive?" I asked him.

"No. I'm fine, but my dad is on his way, and he's going to kick my a*%^," he told me while I held little Evolet in my arms.

Of course, she informed him that was a bad word, but he didn't apologize. He just walked away.

When he walked back after I had given my name and number to the other drive in the event that they needed a witness he sharply asked me, "What do you mean you were a witness?"

"I was walking my daughters to the bus stop when you had the accident. You almost hit us, but I pulled them back in time to keep them from getting hurt," I told him.

"Well, the cops and my dad are on their way, so I think you've officially done enough, don't you?" he smarmily replied.

Wow. Attitude much?

I'm surprised a fly didn't make its way into my mouth with how low my jaw was dropped. After a moment of getting my bearings I opened my mouth with my own rude retort...

"Hey. I know you're upset and scared, but you broke the traffic laws. They are there for a reason, and you should be grateful that you get to learn your lesson without anyone getting hurt and without any casualties, because that could have very easily happened."

Wait! Were did my own snarky retort go!?!

Actually, scratch that... Thank goodness for the Holy Spirit taking the words right out of my mouth and placing a better response upon my lips.

He just looked at me. Stunned.

Then he turned without a word and walked around his crashed truck.

I was fuming. Standing there a waiting for an apology from this kid who nearly killed my children.

He nearly killed my children! All for an extra two seconds in a traffic circle.

And that's when God whispered in my ear, "My Son was killed. Actually murdered. And even though some who are to blame have apologized, many others have not."

Oh. My. Goodness. Me.

I stood there looking after this punk kid who had caused this accident, and I was angry and frustrated and downright mad, and God was telling me to forgive and let go. Even though this teen hadn't asked for the forgiveness, I needed to extend it.

What an incredible morning, right?

But even more amazing: what an incredible God. Am I right?

His own Son was beaten, mocked, scorned, humiliated, and left to die. Murdered really. And even while dying his thoughts were not of himself. He said, "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."

My translation of that on Thursday morning was, "Forgive him. He's just a kid who thinks he invincible and untouchable. I'm still working on him."

My kids are totally okay. They had an exciting story to share with Daddy when he got home, but I had some serious heart work to do with God that day. I had some of my own resentfulness and bitterness to release and lay at the foot of the cross.

Forgiveness is hard. Especially when it is deeply personal. But keep in mind, nothing could be more personal than the murder of child, and God knows exactly how that feels. And He gives the most amazing example for us to follow in it.

So, to the young man who attends high school and lives somewhere in my neighborhood. I forgive you.

And to the God who gave everything to have a relationship with me, forgive me for my stubbornness and pride.

Fishing for... What?

By Cassie Glubzinski

The holidays are a time that bring back fond memories to me, and this year the memories are ones of going fishing with my grandfathers.

My mom's dad (Papaw Larry) took my cousin and I fishing infrequently. I remember he would use Wheaties cereal as bait. To this day it cracks me up that Wheaties is my favorite cereal.

[There you go, ladies. With one cereal you can catch a pretty decent sized bass as well as a man who helps with the laundry and dishes!]

Now, my dad's dad (Papaw Roger) lived on a large piece of property, and his house had a deck that overlooked what we called the lake. Really, it was more of an oversized pond, but to a kid it's a lake. He would show my sister and I how to hook a worm, how to cast a line, and then how to wait...
And wait...
And wait...

Patience is a virtue that was generously granted to many folks in the world.

I'm not one of those people.

Seriously.

So waiting has never been something I was good at, but I've always had a fondness and an affinity for fishing. I've just changed my bait.

Here's how I now fish:

Me: "Ugh! I'm pretty sure I gained ten pounds since I last went on a run! My jeans are so tight, and I officially have a muffin top."

Friend: "No way! You look fantastic! You've maybe gained an ounce, and that's being generous."

Fished for a compliment, and I got it.

And another:

Me: "My kids are completely insane. Sometimes I just look at them and say, 'Seriously, who is your mother?'"

Friend: "Your daughters are incredible! And you're such an amazing mother!"

Fished for affirmation, and I got it.

And one more for the road:

Me: "I have no sense of style. I seem to only be able to wear yoga pants and a tee shirt. Every. Single. Day. Jeans if I am feeling a bit adventurous."

Friend: "You always look so cool and put together! I would never say that about you!"

Fished for a bit of self worth, and guess what? I got it.

Here's the deal, friends, I do sometimes feel down and out. There are days when I feel I'm the worst mother on earth, days when I feel I'm the ugliest creature to walk, and days when I don't think I am worth the love and affection my family (especially my husband) and my friends bestow on me. And so when those days and moments come, I start fishing.

And I'm impatient for it, too. I will repeat my comment multiple times until I hear the words I think I need to hear; the words I think I deserve to hear.

As our family has been going through this time of advent together leading up to this holiday I was struck by how the Lord was working in my heart. Ponder this with me for a moment: God, the Creator of the universe, chose to send His Son, His only child, to earth. Not to be a king in the earthly sense, but to die, a horrible, humiliating and degrading death. And He did it all for us.

For me. For you. For all of us.

Whoa.

Here I am going fishing, and God sent His Son to die for me.

I have some really whacked out priorities.

Now, I'm not saying we shouldn't encourage one another. We absolutely should! God designed people to be with other people, and we need to be lifting one another up in the Spirit.

But I was not designed to fish for compliments, for affirmation, or for human-given self worth. He has already provided me with all of that. When I'm fishing for these things I'm only trying to bring myself up a bit from my inner slump. I'm simply trying to be impressive.

I have been reading great book this week that my sister gave me called "Loving My Actual Life" by Alexandra Kuykendall. In one of the chapters she quotes her pastor saying, "I stopped impressing people a long time ago. I figured out that when I'm busy impressing them, I'm too busy to love them."

Wow.

In my selfish quest to fish for worldly encouragement and love I have completely missed the mark on loving the people God has placed in front of me.

Jesus was not interested in impressing anyone. He loved them. He was the son of an unwed virgin mother and raised in a humble carpenter's home. He sought out the broken and down-trodden. He befriended the ostracized and outcast. He became a brother to the single orphans and a friend to the friendless. He was, and is, and always will be, all about love.

And here I am, fishing for some sort of affirmation, some bit of self worth, some snippet of a compliment.

Get your head on straight, Cassie.

Jesus himself had actual fishermen follow him. He told them, "Come, and I will make you fishers of men." In other words, "Your casting your net the wrong way. Let me show you how it's done."

How powerful would it be if I simply fished for people to love? What if I chose to fish for the outcasts and the ostracized? What if I started fishing for ways to serve and love on others, rather than ways for them to serve and love on me?

Don't get me wrong, this is a really tough pill for me to swallow. But I need it. I need it everyday.

D.L. Moody was quoted saying, "You impress from afar, but you impact up close."

I know Jesus never tried to impress anyone. He was too busy loving them because of the love he was showing his heavenly Father. But nonetheless, Jesus was impressive. He did many miraculous things, he spoke with great oratorical ability, and he told stories like none other. From afar, he was impressive to many without even trying. And if I'm honest, when I stop trying to be impressive is when I am actually told that I am impressive. Make sense right? Because when I'm not living for me, God shines to bright, and He is the impressive One. Just like Jesus.

Jesus was so very impressive from afar.

But man oh man. He really impacted up close.

So this holiday season I'm going to try to be more like that. I'm going to fish for others, instead of fishing for myself. I'm going to give of myself, because Christ gave me all. I'm going to realize my worth is found in him, and I don't need compliments, I don't need affirmation, and I don't need self-worth that is given from people. It won't last. It never has.

When I realize my worth is found solely in Christ, I'm awestruck by how permanent that can be. I'm praying you will be awestruck, too.

So, what do you say? Wanna go fishing?

No Stolen Joy

By Cassie Glubzinski

Thanksgiving has come and gone, and December is well underway. But this holiday season has been a particularly rough one for our family...

You see, my husband's family lives in Michigan, and my family is spread through Indiana and Kentucky. Our typical Thanksgiving get together with my father had to be cancelled this year due to his recent job change and move. But this turned out to be a blessing none of us could have predicted...

Now, I know my posts are typically laced with some of the hilarious shenanigans my kiddos have been known to do, but tonight I feel the Lord calling me to be open, raw, and honest in ways I've not yet been.

You see, my husband and I had been trying for baby number three for a while when we found out we were expecting in July of this year. We were truly heartbroken when that baby was miscarried at only six weeks in early August. However, we still wanted to try again, and God granted our prayers.

We found out we were expecting again in early October. It was a very busy time with school beginning and my husband's internship underway while he still took classes, but our excitement was there all the same. God was giving us another baby!

Through the pregnancy I was struck by how good I felt. I had rough pregnancies with my daughters (nausea, vomiting, morning sickness that lasted all day), so this felt like a breeze! I was beyond excited to go to my first appointment the week of Thanksgiving, and exactly one day before I hit nine weeks.

A few days before said appointment, however, I received a call from my father telling me that my grandfather (his dad) was in the ICU back home. He had several ailments that were reeking havoc on his body, and my dad was travelling to Indiana to see him. I asked if I needed to come, and his response was immediate: "Stay where you are. I'll keep you posted. You just keep you, your family and that little one inside you healthy."

The day of the appointment the doctors and nurses were sweet and kind. They took my vitals, they weighed me (that's our favorite part, right?), they ushered me into the exam room, and I sat on the table with my eyes locked on the ultrasound machine. I was anxious for my grandfather, but I had a horrid feeling about what I might get told. Perhaps because of our recent miscarriage? But I had done all the doctor had asked, and my husband and I had been given the go ahead to try again. Everything should be fine, right?

I watched with bated breath as the screen illuminated with a picture of a little circle, and I immediately thought this isn't right.

"Are you sure of the first day of your last cycle?" the doctor asked me.

I assured her that I had told her correctly.

"The baby pictured here is only showing exactly six weeks of development, and there's no heartbeat. I'm sorry, but unless you miscalculated, you will be miscarrying soon. I'm truly so sorry..."

Every other word was lost to me. The week of Thanksgiving, and my husband and I would be mourning the loss of another child.

The doctor and nurse left so I could get dressed, and I found myself taking deep breaths in order to not start crying. I was so grateful to have left my youngest daughter with a dear friend while my oldest daughter was at school. As soon as I was able to get the car the floodgate opened, and I drove away from Walter Reed with tears streaming down my face.

I called family as soon as I was able to do so, and I wept upon my friend's shoulder that afternoon. The next day I received a call from my father that my grandpa had been moved to Hospice. I had to use that conversation to tell my dad that the bleeding started. My Thanksgiving week was spent in and out of the ER, with my phone in hand waiting for updates on my grandfather's condition.

And despite all this Thanksgiving turned out to be completely wonderful. I kid you not, it was an awesome Thanksgiving day. My husband, daughters and I spent a lazy day together watching the parades and football, and eating a frozen pizza because that's what my kiddos wanted. Despite the physical and emotional pain I was feeling I found neither could even begin to steal away the joy God placed inside me at being with the family in front of me.

This was not our first miscarriage...it was our third. And we name every child. As I sat curled up with a blanket and my trusty Wonder Woman cup I looked at my family and God spoke silently to my heart as a Comforter in my time of sorrow.

My babies, Alex, Indy and Kestrel, will never have to skin a knee. They will never break a bone, they will never have a broken heart, they are never even going to have a paper cut. Their only memories will be ones of heaven, and what a gift that is for me as their mother, and for A.J. as their father. My babies are not lost. They were never lost. They are tucked safely in the Savior's arms, and one day I will hold them close.

The Tuesday after Thanksgiving my grandfather passed away, and while my heart grieves for my grandmother with whom he was married for sixty years, I rejoice in knowing my three babies have another amazing great grandfather to smile and laugh with until I can join them in heaven someday.

And even now, as I write this, with tears on my face, I am so joyous. I have such hope. I rest in such peace. And I am so very thankful... first for the God I serve, second for the husband He gave me, and third for the girls He granted me the privilege of raising with A.J.

The song 'It Is Well' has been on my mind so very much. The words speak so greatly to me even now..

When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say
"It is well, it is well with my soul"

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend
Even so, it is well with my soul!

We will have peace. We will have sorrows. But only with Christ in our hearts can we ensure that nothing, NOTHING, will ever steal our joy.

I challenge each of you reading this: whatever you are facing, whatever trial or triumph, do NOT let it steal the joy you have found in Christ Jesus.

Ignorance is Hysterical

By Cassie Glubzinski



I love when my kids play well together. Don't you?

I have to actually state that I love this because it doesn't happen as frequently as I would like.

Yeah. That.

When there is silence, I'm a bit concerned. When there are tears, I'm on the move. When there are combined giggles, I'm beside myself with joy!

The other day the girls were in the midst of fits of giggles. They had taken some of their toy pots and pans from their play kitchen and were running around my house with them on their heads.

So. Cute.

I smiled at the girls and said to them, "You girls are sillier than a bag of monkeys! What are you two up to?"

Gemma, my five year, stopped right in front of me and said, "Mommy! Mommy! We're potheads!"

Ummm... no you're not.

My smile swiftly changed into an expression of shock, and then one of complete hysteria. I seriously laughed so hard I cried, and of course my kids thought it was because of their antics, so they began chanting "Potheads! Potheads! We are potheads!" at the top of their lungs, which just made me laugh even harder.

I set them straight after a bit, once I was actually able to catch my breath.

And then, as I got to thinking about it, I realized how much I miss that. I miss my naiveté at times. I miss not knowing the world so well, and just being able to make someone smile because of crazy antics or one silly comment. I miss my untainted life.

But of course, that made me realize that my life was never untainted.

You got that? NEVER.

The Bible says, "...all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23). We all missed the mark. And our lives were tainted with our first breaths.

My mom says it this way, "Isn't funny that you don't have to teach your child how to sin? Rather, you have to teach them how to obey God."

So. True.

And amidst this dismal outlook, we receive the greatest promise: Jesus Christ. Scripture says, "God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." (2 Corinthians 5:21) [emphasis mine].

Christ himself, the only one without sin, became the sacrifice to wipe away our sins. When we accept Christ, and God looks at us, He no longer sees our sin, but Christ's sacrifice. He sees righteousness.

Mind = Blown.

So, even though we can never be 'untainted' we can live knowing our lives are His and for His use. We can choose to focus on the good that He brings, and we can be tools to bring about more good.

It's not about naiveté, it's about grace. It's about love. It's about His sacrifice.

I'll never look at potheads the same again.

Sharing is Caring... right?

By Cassie Glubzinski

I have a kid in kindergarten.
[deep breath]
My daughter is already in kindergarten...
[breathe again]
Seriously, where did the time go?

She came home from school the other day and was so very excited. She held out for my inspection her first check out from the school library.

Very. Big. Deal.

Smiling from ear to ear she showed me, with no small amount of pride, the book that she wanted me to read to her when we got inside.

Now, I had to cock my head to the side and ask her sweetly, "Honeybee, we have this book at home already. Was there a reason you wanted to check it out from the library?"

"Yeah, Mommy. I don't like sharing it with sister, so I got my own book to borrow."

Well, that in and of itself was funny, except for the fact that the book is called "Llama Llama, Time To Share".

Sorry, Llama, but your message has not been received by my five year old.

But even as I was thinking of this I was also reminded of how I hoard things I think are mine. That's my car. That's my book. That's my computer. That's my kitchen. That's my house. That's my church. That's my...fill in the blank. And then I began to contemplate the heavenly perspective God would want me to adopt...

That's God's house, and He's letting me live in it.
That's God's kitchen, and He's letting me cook in it.
That's God's car, and He's letting me drive it.
That's God's computer, and He's letting me use it.
That's God's book, and He's letting me read it.
That's God's church, and He's calling me to serve in it.

A heavenly perspective leaves no room for selfishness, and trying to communicate that concept to kids is difficult. But it's not impossible. It is simply a process. And God granted me an amazing opportunity to cultivate a heavenly perspective in my children's little minds.

You see, just like Gemma got to borrow a book from the library, one she would return the next week, we get to borrow things from God. It's our responsibility to take good care of them, and when He needs them for a different purpose, we need to return them gratefully.

Mitch Albom wrote in his famous book, "Have a Little Faith" about how when we are born our hands are in fists. We hold tight to anything and everything we can. But when we die our hands are open, because we realize nothing in this world was ever meant to be held onto so tightly. Our souls were meant for worship in Heaven someday, and all we need is to let go.

Sharing is caring, indeed. I am praying this week that God will show me when He wants to be share, even when it will be uncomfortable.

Diapers and Pull Ups and Panties... Oh my!

So... It's officially one of the least favorite times for any momma at my house.
Ready?
Brace yourself...

Potty. Training.

I hate it. The constant wonder of whether an accident is lurking, or if I am going to be able to make it to the grocery bathroom before a clean up is needed on aisle four, and every other part.

I try really hard to get my kiddo excited about the prospect of being a "big girl" and wearing "big girl panties". As such, I took my little one shopping at Burlington Coat Factory (because it's awesomely inexpensive) and I walked her right up to the toddler and little girl panty display. I quickly grab every package that is her size (all three of them) and kneel in front of her. And I'm excited, because she looks excited, and usually that's a good sign, right? That means she's processing the fact that she is close, so very close, to closing the pull up and diaper chapter of her life for good!

So, kneeling in front of my curly haired cutie I ask her which one she likes best. And then, with bated breath, I wait to see how she will respond. Her little face scrunched up, and her eyes turned more pensive. After a few brief moments she told me, "Mommy, I'm poopy-yucky."

Well, that went well.

My kid officially pooped in her pull up while shopping with me for big girl panties.

Best. Mom. Ever.

And after she told me I did what any sane mother of a two and a half year old would do. I cracked up. I'm talking full blown belly laugh right in the middle of Burlington Coat Factory.

Classic.

I also bought all three packages of panties for her since I figured she would probably need the back ups.

This hasn't been the easiest summer for our family, but I had been praying that God would give me the courage and freedom to let go. And for me, laughing is a way of letting go.

So today, if you haven't already, ask God for the opportunity to let go a bit. I'm praying He will bring you something hilarious to share with all of us when we meet later this month!

Tombs and Temples

by Cassie Glubzinski

Summers are insane. Can I get an 'Amen'?

For some reason I spend the Spring looking forward to what I've idolized as a much needed 'summer break', and when it comes I find I've gotten whiplash from the sheer amount of things needing done: gutting the kids' toys and clothes now that the seasons have changed, packing the luggage for a car trip to go see family, planning outings and play dates almost every day in order to avoid my kids' boredom, contacting long lost college friends in hopes of reunions or at least long talks to catch up, and so much more. Life, at least at our house, tends to accelerate to alarming speeds as soon as 'breaks' appear on our calendar.

This summer was no different. The entire month of July saw us all home as a family for a whopping five days. Five days! and three of those five days my youngest daughter was sick with rotavirus (hooray for ER visits!). Yeah, we have a tendency to fill our schedule to the brim and then struggle to stay afloat...

But this summer brought a new joy to our family as well. My husband and I have been trying for eight months to have number three. Now, eight months isn't really all that long of a period of time, but for us it was unexpected. We've never had trouble conceiving before, so this was weighing on my heart heavily, and I was beginning to feel discouraged. I wanted so much to have another child, and I felt like a failure every month I didn't conceive.

But then I got home for one night before heading back out on the road, and God blessed me with a positive pregnancy test. I was beyond thrilled! As soon as my husband came home from work I shared the amazing news with him, and we found a fun way to tell our parents as well. I was only five weeks along, but I was already so deeply in love with this little child.

We made our way to New York for a wedding, and then to Pennsylvania to pick up our kiddos from my husband's parents. They, too, were excited for us, and our daughters vehemently insisted that they wanted only a baby brother (Newsflash: mommies and daddies don't get to pick the gender of their baby). It was a treasured moment.

We got home and began telling a few close friends and dearly loved ones, and our joy was great to share. I felt so amazingly content, excited, and simply full.

Then Wednesday I started to feel funny. I had some pains through the day in my abdomen, but didn't want to think the worst. When my husband was getting ready to board the Metro I had him meet me at Walter Reed. After a few hours in the ER our fears were confirmed: our baby was gone.

This was our second miscarriage. The first was in between our girls, and I was eight weeks along. This baby left us at only six weeks, yet the hurt seemed to linger on a far deeper level. All those feelings of failure resurfaced on a new level, and they made valiant attempts to consume me.

But God is so good. The morning after the news of the miscarriage I was reading my Bible. I happened to be in 1 Corinthians, and was reading the passage about sexual morality. Paul is exhorting the Corinthians to remain pure, because their bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit (verse 19). The thought resonated with me. I had awoken to the feeling that my body was a tomb. And the Lord used that moment to remind me that my body is His temple.

My body was not designed to be a tomb. I was designed for worship. I was designed for a purpose. I may feel like a failure sometimes, but I am never a failure because God still resides in me. I am His temple.

"Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies." - 1 Corinthians 6:19-20

The Girl Needs Help

By Cassie Glubzinski


So my youngest has been sick this week.

Rotavirus.

So.
Not.
Fun.

She's been miserable and downright lethargic. Poor thing hasn't even really had much of an appetite either (which is HIGHLY unusual for her).

This morning I took her to the ER because she had been complaining that her tummy hurt while writhing in pain quite a bit yesterday and last night. Broke my heart.

After seeing the doc, getting some meds, and eating two grape popsicles we were on our way back home with strict instructions to quarantine her, disinfect everything, and call if anything changed for the worst.

As we gathered up our belongings to leave I set Evolet down on the hospital bed in order to pack everything away. She insisted on keeping her water cup and her snuggle blanket in her arms, and she had a death grip on her little cup of Cheerios. Her small arms weren't quite able to wrap around all of her treasures. She looked at me with the sweetest little expression and quietly stated, "Mommy, the girl needs help."

I kind of froze for a moment. Those five little words were so powerful to me in that situation. All night last night I was up with this little cutie trying to comfort her while praying we could both get some sleep, I kept thinking about my to do list. I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon, we have a dear friend coming to town tomorrow and staying the night, my five year old has sports camp this week that's twenty minutes away (we are in the car quite a bit), we have a ceremony to attend on Friday, a concert Friday night, boating on Saturday as well as a surprise birthday party Saturday night. We have church on Sunday, and I have another meeting Sunday afternoon. And then the icing on the cake is that we are leaving for vacation on Monday, and I still need to pack.

This was what was running through my head all night last night. How was I going to make it all happen flawlessly? I'm the stay at home wife and mom, and it's my job, exclusively, to get all this done and taken care of [not to mention meals, the laundry, cleaning the house, and of course Mommy's Chauffeur Service].

But looking into this sweet little girl's eyes as she tried desperately to juggle her treasures I realized that even though she said she needed help, really I was the one who needed help.

This girl needs help.

I need help realizing it's NOT THE END OF THE WORLD when life doesn't go exactly as I think it should.

There is such beauty to be seen in the chaos. It's a colorful mosaic of life if we let it be.

God never intended for me to dwell on my to do list. I did that completely on my own, and I needed His help in that moment to simply be in the moment.

I needed to look at this time of comforting my little girl for what it was: the opportunity to snuggle my precious daughter, because she won't be that little to snuggle with for long. I needed to chuck the to do list because it was distracting me from my true job: being a godly wife and mother.

You can't make your faith a box you check. It's so much more than a task. It's an identity.

And if you are having trouble getting to that point pray the same prayer I did:
The girl needs help.