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On the Hard Days, REMEMBER

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It’s been a hard day. Kids squawking and squabbling. Too much noise, not enough peace.

I remember my first night as a mom. After everyone went home and I was alone with my hours old baby. How I marveled at his silky soft skin. His tiny, perfect features. The way he knew exactly where to go for sustenance and love. And the only sound was the little piggy snort he made.

So I stop. And I tune out the noise. And I soak in the details of my children. The way they look as they play, how they feel when my arms encircle their small bodies, how they come running when they need me.


It’s been a hard day. Nothing getting accomplished. Too much to do, not enough time.

I remember hours spent in a worn recliner with a small, warm body heavy on my chest, breathing in time to my heartbeat. There were stacks on the coffee table, dishes in the sink, laundry strewn across a bedroom floor. It would all still be there when he woke up and that was okay.

So I stop. And I tune out the to-do list. And I sit with my children, ignoring everything that needs to be done because it will still be there later. And what truly needs to be done is this.

It’s been a hard day. Mounting frustration over messes and toys and nothing and anything. Too much chaos, not enough order.

I remember having little helpers for meals and laundry and cleanup time and nothing and anything and loving it. And not being concerned about the growing messes and disorganization, but instead enjoying the time spent teaching and learning and being together.

So I stop. And I tune out my frustration. And I let them help, despite the extra work it requires. I watch them learn and bask in the glow of their accomplishments. And it’s worth all the extra effort.

It’s been a hard day. Feeling like motherhood’s worst failure. Too many broken promises, not enough energy to make it right.

I remember tears and whispered apologies and prayers to help me do better, be better. And there were little arms around my neck and unreserved forgiveness.

So I stop. And I tune out my failures. And I ask forgiveness, again. And I am thankful, so thankful, for second and third and fourth chances.

Has it been a hard day?


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