“Mommy, can you read me this book? Please? It’s a short one.”

My two-year-old was looking up at me with his big puppy dog eyes, holding up a board book while I was attempting to pull my daughter down from the dangerous surface she has climbed on—again. My three-year-old heard about storytime, so he walked away from his giant pile of LEGO and started walking towards us. “It’s a short one,” my son repeated. 

It was close to noon. The laundry machine was beeping and I hadn’t started lunch. Soon I’ll miss the sweet spot of my youngest being just the right amount of tired to go down for her nap. 

Though I was initially mildly annoyed, it broke my heart that my son needed a qualifier to bargain for my time. “It’s a short one,” felt more like: “I need your attention. Even just for a short time.” 

I have three small children, all under the age of three. If I had a dollar for every time a stranger comments, “My, you have your hands full!”, I might just have enough to send all three to college. My days are blurry and chaotic, spilling from one chore to the next. 

Don’t get me wrong; becoming a parent has brought me unfathomable joy. Be that as it may, my love for my children and passion for parenting does not change the fact that I am simply exhausted. Throw in the pandemic, overcoming health crises, nurturing long-distance relationships, and trying to be a dutiful citizen by staying informed about the global landscape… it’s a lot. 

Even if I wanted to, making room for God to speak into my life felt impossible with such little brain space left. 

With the dawn of the new year came some hope in this. I love that a new beginning creates a natural environment to cultivate dreams, hopes, and aspirations. 

However, as a stay-at-home mom, my days haven’t really looked all that different. We are still in the midst of the pandemic, still trying to find the delicate balance between staying safe and staying sane (It is very hard, it turns out, for people who were designed for relationships to be mandated to be socially isolated). 

At home, it is emotionally taxing for marriages and physically exhausting for both parents and children. I am desperate for change, but the new year did not necessarily feel new—we were still stuck with the same reality. 

So instead of wishing for change as a way of escaping my mess, I asked the Holy Spirit to meet me in my chaos. 

“And he who sat upon the throne said, ‘Behold, I make all things new.’ Also he said, ‘Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.’” (Revelation 21:5)

It wasn’t mere change that my restless mama heart was craving. I felt as if I had been carrying a burden for too long and it was crushing my soul; I needed to be restored.

Restoration points towards the origin of a story, towards a Maker.  Towards a Person who sees me and knows just what my soul needs. Towards a Saviour who did not shy away from the mess of a cross, was triumphant over death, and was restored to full glory. 

As we enter into the season of Lent, amidst my resolutions to fast from things that destroy my body and my soul,  I also resolve to make room for peace and wonder by intentionally seeking truth, goodness, and beauty in my everyday life. 

Seeking Truth: Guarding My Brain And My Heart From The Weight Of The World 

In the book “Get Your Life Back”, author John Eldredge warns his readers to guard their hearts against the “assault on attention” caused by the constant barrage of media and information available to us 24/7. 

I have always known the negative effects that social media has on our wellbeing, but never have I felt the emotional burden as much as I have in the past year. I was triggered by so many stories and tragedies from friends and strangers alike. My heart was not prepared to bear so much burden, and my husband pointed out that constantly being immersed in so much of the world’s suffering had taken an emotional toll on me. 

I felt everyone’s pain deeply, and it exacerbated my own. Then I started to unravel because I couldn’t fix anything, or promise safety, or guarantee healing. Something had to give. 

When the world feels like it is crumbling and the rug is being pulled from under my feet, I know that God is beckoning me to come near Him and release it all to Him. I need to remember what is true: that God loves me fiercely, and that He has it all under control. I won’t spoil it too much (I encourage you to read the book yourself), but for me, the most revolutionary point about Eldredge’s book is what he teaches about letting go and letting God. 

He calls it “‘benevolent detachment’ (…) referring to this necessary kind of detachment because we’re not talking about cynicism or resignation. Benevolent means kindness. It means something done in love.” He encourages readers to practice this by saying a simple prayer: “Jesus -- I give everyone and everything to you.” 

It is not within my power to be everyone’s hero. But what a holy grace to know, and be known, by the Saviour. 

To be able to release heavy burdens to His waiting arms is a great gift often left unopened. In this wild, ever-changing world, the Truth has helped me find footing on solid ground. 

I am grateful for powerful resources available online for free, including The Bible in a Year podcast with Fr. Mike Schmitz, Abiding Together, and resources by John Eldredge. My husband and I, along with our siblings, have decided to read “Get Your Life Back” together and to meet virtually over Lent to journey and grow together. My mornings are always so rushed so my quiet time often comes during the coveted nap time. I know that staying rooted in God’s Word will look different in each season of life I’m in, but I know I need to stay committed to being grounded in His Truth.

Seeking Goodness: When Life Is Fabulously Inefficient

Most moms can relate to the chaos of trying to find the balance of creating learning moments but also letting your kids be free to play.

Between creating playful environments that stimulate their curiosity (transforming Amazon boxes to rocket/pirate ships), inventing meals that toddlers might eat (how to hide vegetables in mac n’ cheese), and establishing rhythms of preschool and home life (running out the door without shoes because we’re late for dropoff), my days often feel... fabulously inefficient. 

My children operate outside of the world’s frenzy and insatiable need to hurry. Getting dressed and ready to go to the park takes longer than actually being at the park. Going for a walk includes literally stopping to smell the roses. I am realizing that my patience with the toddler snail pace is often indicative of how my soul is doing. 

Often when I feel like I am about to snap, it is because I have allowed something else to draw me away from being present to what is in front of me. It could be anything: from laundry, grocery lists, past trauma or crippling anxiety for the future. 

When I am stolen away from the present moment, I miss the goodness that God has laid in front me: a two-year-old with a book, a LEGO masterpiece, or peekaboo for the fiftieth time. 

But when I bask in the goodness of my vocation as a gift, it is magical. There is nothing about my day that God finds insignificant or uninteresting. He wants all of it, because He wants all of me. I rely on the Holy Spirit to help me see the good all around me. Yes, we are living in crazy, unprecedented times. But our lives set against the backdrop of the world’s current events are not mere coincidences or accidents. God chose me for such a time as this.

Seeking Beauty: Finding the Line Between Superficial and Denying God’s Beauty

In “Get Your Life Back”, Eldredge writes: “Beauty reassures us that goodness is still real in the world, more real than harm or scarcity or evil.” He continues, “When we are harried, haunted, in fight or flight, beauty seems a luxury for people on vacation. Just the opposite is true—it’s a lifeline being thrown to you from heaven.” 

When I think of beauty, I can not help but think of my mom, who passed away when I was in college. This year marked thirteen years without her, and on her “heaven anniversary”, I bought myself a bottle of her favourite perfume. 

She was naturally beautiful, of course, but she took pleasure in creating beauty. She enjoyed wearing makeup, playing dress-up, her lips and nails were often deep, rich shades of red.  

She allowed beautiful things to bring light and joy; not in a materialistic, consumeristic sort of way, but instead as a way of saying “I delight in this; I delight in you.” 

Beauty is not a luxury reserved for the elite. It has always been part of our story; just re-read the story of creation and imagine God smiling when He saw what He had created. “And God saw that it was good.” (Gen. 1:12) 

Because our culture has marred the definition of beauty, we have an opportunity to reclaim it for the purpose of bringing glory to God. 

Beauty is everywhere—in pricey floral arrangements, and wilted, roadside blooms handpicked by an eager toddler. There is a time and a season for both.

 It really isn’t about the object in itself; rather, beauty lifts our eyes towards heaven, and towards God Himself. Pickup that small bouquet of flowers from the grocery store every now and then, either for yourself, for a friend, or for Mary. Fresh flowers in the kitchen can be a welcome respite amidst an unending pile of dishes. I am mindful in identifying areas in my home that disturb my peace, and I creatively think of ways to bring beauty into the space. 

In a similar way, the pandemic has brought up a new affinity for being outside and drinking deeply the beauty that surrounds me. Being around toddlers has helped me remember the many nuggets of beauty that God has left lying around for me to enjoy: like the “really cool rocks” we found by a stream, or the “dinosaur bones” (twigs) we picked up in the forest. I am reminded that I need to let beauty awaken my sense of wonder and draw my eyes heavenward. 

I also try to seek opportunities for quiet and solitude whenever possible to let my heart catch up with all the things my brain has been processing all day. I know full well that the enemy has waged a war to win my mind and my heart. In my kitchen hangs a beautiful handmade crochet that reads, “Not today, Satan.” 

My closest girlfriends and I each have one to remind ourselves that as matriarchs of our homes, we refuse to make room for evil to steal, kill, and destroy. Not in our homes, not with our people, not on our watch.

As the old adage goes, “The days are long, but the years are short”. The season of seemingly unending diapers will one day soon come to an end. But until that day comes, I want to savour the magic in our seemingly mundane days. I want to endeavour to seek truth, goodness, and beauty amidst the chaos, not outside of it. 

Peace feels like it’s hard to come by lately; thank goodness the Holy Spirit does not mind my mess. In fact, He wants to enter in and bring restoration. Peace is there for the taking, so I need to release my firm grasp on whatever is taking its space, to make room for the Lord to come in. “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will work for you today; (...) The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be still.”  Exodus 14:13-14


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