I can’t believe it’s been 5 years. This picture came up on my Facebook memories this morning. Do you get those?

This was a training event I did before my first (and only) triathlon in July of 2013. You see, I had woken up 9 months prior with a crazy idea that I should do a triathlon. Both haunted and exhilarated all day by the thought, I confessed my audacious dream to my husband that night, quickly met by my husband’s support and the truth that he believed in me more than I believed in myself. You see, I was a mom of a 4-year-old and 1-year-old at the time and was living in a state of overwhelm. It didn’t seem like good timing, but one baby step at a time, I started to prepare.

I decided to start with running, because it was the “easiest” and most low-cost skill to learn. I was not a runner. I had only run 1 mile once in my life and at the time couldn’t run .25 without stopping all together. So, week after week, I worked my couch to 5K program until I ran a mile straight. I still laugh when I think of the poor elderly people walking their fluffy dog by the stop sign that marked my mile marker. I sprinted like I was straining to finish a marathon and slapped that stop sign as I screamed at the top of my lungs. Victory! I didn’t care if I looked crazy. No one could know how hard I worked for that first mile.

My dear friend (now sister-in-love) took me under her wing, teaching me how to run more efficiently. We signed up for a 5K and trained toward that date. It was the next baby step that made sense in preparation for a summer triathlon. She graciously ran my pace as we finished the Pumpkin Run on a cold, rainy October day. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I was the lady pushing through the finish just as the ugly cry came gushing from deep down inside. In the physical strain, something inside of me was changing.

My next step toward a triathlon was to learn how to swim. Although I knew how to stay afloat and get across the pool, I had no idea how to swim in a straight line and breath at the same time. As I kid, I loved swimming underwater and pretending to be a mermaid. I may or may not have seen the movie Splash (with Daryl Hannah) way to may times and told a girl at a hotel pool that I was an actual real mermaid. She looked at me in disbelief inquiring as to why I had no tail in the pool. Wasn’t it obvious? My tail would not appear until I was in salt water. Duh. (Don’t worry. Since then I did repent for lying.) For a triathlon though, mermaid swimming would definitely not cut it. There was only one thing to do.

I started showing up at the gym when the old people came. 6 am. As a stay at home, there was no other way to get it done. I remember crying on the way to the gym at 5 am, jealous of all the sleeping people represented in the dark homes I was passing. Why was I doing this? I was already a tired mom. A voice deep inside told me it was worth it.

After weight lifting and cardio, I waited by the pool door waiting for the lock to click. If I wasn’t in at 6 a.m. on the dot, I wouldn’t have a swim lane. Day after day, I choked on water as I struggled to learn a proper breathing technique. I read swimming books, watched YouTube videos and took pointers from the “experts” at the pool. After 3 weeks of raising eyebrows and concern among lifeguards and my elderly counterparts, I made it across the pool for the first time with no choking or floundering. I felt unstoppable. Improving every week, I finally swam .25 mile without stopping. Now it was time to test my skills in open water at the very park I was scheduled to complete my first triathlon that summer. That was 5 years ago today.

Triathlons draw a surprising diversity of people. I was comforted to meet so many first timers at this training event that would prepare us for the real thing. My dad came along to support me, my husband holding down the fort at home.

I scanned the horizon, searching for landmarks that would keep me on track. I had read that one of the most important things to learn in open swim practice is how to use landmarks to swim straight as there would be no underwater lane like I had grown so accustomed to at the pool. I dipped my toe in the freezing water. Butterflies stirred in my stomach. As the sun made its full debut, they blew a horn and we were off into the dark, choppy water. Within yards, all the advice I had received to practice in open water made sense. Two days before, I swam confident in a calm, clear pool. Today I was crowded by swimmers in cold, cloudy water, utterly discombobulated. The breathing technique I had mastered so well in protected waters was futile as big waves interrupted my breath, challenging my rhythm as I coughed, regrouped and kept swimming.

I heard a yell over my shoulder. A fellow swimmer was panicking and crying for help. The two ladies near her shouted and panicked with her. I found myself swimming away from the finish and back to the fear-struck triathlete. Not wanting to get pulled under myself, I stopped short of her by a yard and called out, “It’s okay…deep breaths…you’re okay…you’re not alone…lean back. Relax. You’ve got this. You’re not alone. We’re with you. You’re going to finish.”

Her breathing slowed. Focus replaced the haze over her eyes as tears emerged on her wet face. After exchanging smiles and determined glances, the four of us clawed through the white-capped water in timeless silence, emerging on the sand with something more than we had entered the water with.

5 years later, I still feel that choppy water. I know you do too. It’s that space between what we’ve learned with our heads but is still being tested in our living. It’s the stretch between our Biblical ideals and vision as moms and the blunt realities of every day as we strive to live those out.

I could point back to those days with despair. When I look in the mirror each day, I don’t recognize the go-getter me that I romanticize from my past. I struggle with basic responsibilities. The critic in my head has lots of ammunition. But grace calls out. The truth is that you and I are in a season we’ve never been in before. It’s easy to admire the hindsight view of days gone by while Jesus invites us to sit with Him in our present.

I think if we listen closely, there’s a voice in our choppy waters. “It’s okay…deep breaths…you’re not alone…lean back. I’m in the water with you and we’re going to finish together.”

I believe there’s power in naming things. Sometimes questions are the best place to start.

What are my choppy waters? Don’t shame yourself for naming something you judge to be a small thing. Is it tiredness? A child who hasn’t learned to read? A financial concern or failure that whispers in your ear? Or maybe it’s a big thing that you’re scared to name, because it’s scary to hope.

Who’s with me in the water? We know God is, but maybe He’s inviting us to know it deeper down than we’ve ever known it before. He’ll never leave us. He’s not giving up on us. His determined love can give us courage to not give up on ourselves. But who else is there? Who has God surrounded you with? Maybe it’s time to reach out for a listening ear, a prayer or a laugh over coffee. We don’t have to face the choppy waters alone.

What’s God speaking to my heart? Be still? Lean back? It’s rarely the booming voice that calls us into our truest, bravest us. It’s often the gentle nudging and the friendly leading. Not from far off on the distant shore, but right there in the water with us.

Whatever our choppy may be, let’s look to the horizon. We will emerge, sister. We will walk out of this season with goodness we didn’t know going in. Then we’ll gather our stories and turn them into buoys for someone else.

My greatest buoy in every season of life is the Word of God. Praying Scripture has been such a powerful way for me to anchor my heart in truth while posturing myself to receive from God even as I go about my busy day. I’ve created a free resource for you. Here’s the link if you’d like to learn more or get it in your inbox today.

I’d love to hear from you. Feel free to leave a comment below or email me at hello@hannahsavage.com. You can also find me on Instagram where I share my real life. I’d love to connect.

I was thinking about you this week and all the ways you may be experiencing overwhelm. I find it interesting that overwhelm is not always a symptom of negative circumstances in our lives. Sometimes there’s a lot of good going on and we’re just having a hard time keeping up with it all. Maybe you’re in the middle of a transition and all the impending unknown has your stomach in knots. Perhaps the real and raw of life feels like a black cloud threatening even the joyful bright spots in your day, only briefly silenced by the constant hum of social media or your “easy button” of choice. I’m with you, friend.  I experience overwhelm, too. Here’s my go to arsenal when overwhelm comes for a visit. What would you add? I’d love for you to share your tips and wisdom in the comments below.

(YouTube more your jam? Watch here. Or click Read More to read here.)

The scent of candle wicks and sweat hung in the air as her newborn cry ushered out my last strained moan. Hot tears tumbled from my eyes, dripping down my neck, and onto the baby before mingling into the water around us. They were tears of gratitude, but if I’m honest, equally tears of relief. I conjured all the techniques I’d ever learned to survive the sensation of her head tearing through my birth canal. Finally, all the anguish was forgotten as I cradled 8 pounds of pure sweetness in the warmth of the morning glow now reaching through the heavy curtains.

The next three days seemed a blur of precious memories, nursing, afterpains and little sleep. My clumsy steps on the cold, creaking floor interrupted the midnight stillness of our small condo as I waddled yet again to the bathroom. My body ached, my back throbbed and I felt the kind of pressure I had felt days before as the baby got into position for birth. Except now, the baby was out. I pushed my concern aside, reasoning that surely this was all par for the course after a precipitous labor.

Concern turned into alarm when my bathroom trip revealed a small bulge amid all the passing postpartum blood. The next hour was a myriad of bathroom trips, prayers with my husband and calls to my midwife. Puzzled and concerned, my husband gently suggested I lay down on the bathroom floor. My eyes pleaded with him for another idea, but desperate for an answer, I sprawled on the floor at the mercy of my husband’s eyes. I have never felt more humiliated and tenderly loved at the same time in all my life. I felt like a bloody bundle of sagging skin and engorged breasts, only a shadow of the woman I knew as a ripe and glowing expectant mother.

Thanks for reading. The remainder of this article is available here on The Kindred Mom. 

*This post does contain affiliate links.

As you probably already know, books are kind of a big deal to me. I. love. them. And if you’re like me, you love great book recommendations. That’s why I’ve decided to start sharing our Bookworm Family Faves every month. You’ll essentially be joining my family in real time. I’m not curating these off a library database or based on someone else’s list. All the books you find here are books we either read (short books) or finished reading (longer chapter books) this month. I hope you find this bookworm snapshot a fun way to find books that may interest or bless your family. Now on to the books!

Can I be honest with you?

Even as I write this, I’m in the thick of the raw of life. This week, I struggled to help my child with sensory processing disorder, had disrupted sleep, overcame a fear and experienced a milestone victory, experienced deep personal hurt, and had a number of things not go as planned (Have I ever told you how much I love plans?). I bet if we sat down for coffee, we could talk for hours about countless decisions, the beautiful highs and the legitimately hard. We know all too well that when the waves come crashing in – in whatever form they come – an inspiring quote or the quick fix of man’s praise won’t cut it. I’ve often wished that I could hit pause on life so that I could process all the things going on in and around me, but yet, I’ve noticed that often my greatest sense of clarity in life and motherhood has been gained in the place where anchors mean the most – in a storm. Maybe our greatest storm is our greatest opportunity in disguise.

Seven Questions, Seven Anchoring Answers

I’ll be honest. When I was a mom facing all the rigors of working full-time outside the home, I was a bit naïve about what it would take to keep me thriving when I finally had the chance to stay at home. You could say I’ve been schooled over the last 6 years of stay at home – and now homeschool – life. I’d love to share with you some of the sanity savers I’ve learned mostly the hard way. Hopefully they can be of value to you in your own journey. (No time to read? Watch a video version here.)

*This post contains affiliate links. 

Why I read this book: As one who loves to write and read about the dynamics of home, I had just come out of a month where God was constantly highlighting to me the idea of belonging. It was during that time I published an article and a video called The Power of Undeserved Belonging. In the following weeks, I stumbled upon this book on Instagram and immediately wanted to read it.  I’ll admit, I’ve never read memoir, so I wasn’t sure how it would go. I am so glad I did. Here’s the run down.

This book in a sentence: “Home is more than just a place – it’s a promise.” – Kate Motaung

Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head. Luke 9:58

Jet-lagged from my trip back to Houston, I lumbered my squeaky suitcase up to the large wooden door. The adrenaline that had pulsed through my veins over the last several weeks of life-changing mission trips was now muted by the apprehension of finding a new job and a new home now that my parents were relocated back to Oklahoma. The relief of a friend’s invitation to stay with her for a couple of nights bought me time to consider my options and sort out logistics. I hoped I wasn’t imposing as I gently knocked on the door.

I already knew that I needed God’s word and time with Him to thrive as a mom, but I failed to understand that were whole parts of my God-given personhood I had laid down on the altar of productivity. The gifts and interests that stir us are not reserved for the few that have it all “done”. They are life-giving pursuits for the day to day. This is from Part 1 where we chatted about what it means to daringly delight from the trenches of motherhood.

But this whole idea of delight, self-care and soul care is easier said than done, isn’t it? (I’m with you, sister.)

So before I share 4 tips for reclaiming delight in your day to day, let’s reconsider why this idea of delight and self-care matters at all.

Put simply, our delight was authored in the heart of God when He dreamed us up and took pleasure in who we are, far before our accomplishments (or lack thereof) could screw it up.

Even when no one else is looking, God delights in you. You don’t have to conquer your to-do list or save the world to get His attention. His eyes are on you and He loves you in all your beauty, and yes, even quirks. Your obsession with colors, God loves that about you. The way you can’t watch a Hallmark commercial without crying, the way your laughter fills a room, the way you can really throw a party, or have an innate ability to bring order into a room – He loves that. Zephaniah 3:17 says that God delights in us and rejoices over us with singing. And guess what? He made us in His image. We are born to delight even as our good, good Father delights in us. Even as Christ is our satisfying portion, God came to give us “life and life to the full.” (John 10:10) His life is eternal, but it’s also vast and uncontainable, meaning as Christ-followers, every piece of the fabric of our lives is an invitation to abundant life, to worship and joy.

Mom guilt debunked. Check. Now, let’s do this. 😊

4 Tips for Meaningful & Intentional Self-Care

The air was thick with tension. My kids’ wet faces flushed with the evidence of the sibling squabble gone wrong. Hurt hearts burst out stinging words. I know they weren’t meant, yet they couldn’t be taken back. Their outbursts shocked me as I internally scrambled through my child-raising handbook for the winning recipe for this situation and remembered that my luck-of-the-draw canned response did not exist. I would need Holy Spirit for this.