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.)

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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.

Half way up the stairs, I wondered if maybe I had bitten off more than I could chew. My toddler straddled one hip. A laundry basket was hoisted on the other. Those were long, weary days. It was my own choice to trade a corporate job with applause to spare for the glories of full-time motherhood, but I felt like I was sinking.

There was a time the family culture I dreamed of seemed as though it would always be a dream. I found myself as a mom increasingly idealizing what I dreamed of for my family. My husband and I spent hours talking about what was important to us. What did we want our kids to leave home with? What did we want the atmosphere of our home to be like?

I dreamed of my intentionally cultivated home when it seemed like only a fairy tale. I was drowning in diapers and laundry; yet, I felt stirred and alive when I read authors like Sally Clarkson and Edith Schaeffer. I had always appreciated truth, but now I was starting to see that truth is most alive when accompanied by goodness and beauty.

I have a confession. I used to be afraid of the dark. I’m not talking about as a 6-year-old. As a young teenager, I was petrified, but I was usually too ashamed to admit it.

Around the age of 18, I’d outgrown a lot of that, but when alone at home, I’d unexpectedly be filled with terror that someone with ill intent was in our house. I could quote all the scriptures. “God has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.” “Perfect love casts out fear.”

My fears didn’t want to budge.

You know the feeling. Name your place. Name your memory. When the ordinary, the mundane, the hustle is overtaken by a shiver of the bittersweet. When you remember that your story has not been without adversaries, without valleys or without pain.

A twinge of pain eclipses an unsuspecting moment and I find myself for that second swimming in the history of my life that I never would have chosen if given the choice.

My eyes burn, and I hope the kids don’t notice my glazed disposition as the storms I’ve weathered swirl by to say hello. The hidden mountains of my heart have made their mark on me, and though I walk with a limp, I wouldn’t change a thing.

What does it mean to live with purpose? At times, I swear its thumping in my chest, that sense that some how my little life matters. That anything is possible. Other times, from where I sit staring at a pillow fort, a pile of dishes and a to do list that Santa would balk at (okay, slight exaggeration there), purpose seems just a tad beyond my grasp. But what if eternity is laced through my messy bun, baggy sweater day to day?

Ecclesiastes 3:11 speaks to the idea that God has set eternity in the heart of every man. This is huge.  We were created in the image of God for fellowship with God and partnership with His purposes. It starts as a God-given thirst on the inside of every human being that truly only God can fill. But then something amazing happens when we taste of His goodness.