Why I Celebrate Everyday Graces
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Is it laundry? A pile of dirty clothes? Dishes in the sink? Crumbs in the car? Yet another battle over math facts?
Is it flowers on the table? Giggles past bedtime? Dinner going off without a hitch?
The everyday; the things that must be done, the mundane, the usual, the boring, the trite.
When I became a mother, I got so overwhelmed with believing that I should be “more”, I should do “more”, I shouldn’t be satisfied to be just a mom. I wasn’t enough.
And then, little by little, as the cracks became crevices, I began to see all the lies. These lies were breaking me apart and it was all because I expected the P word.
I was aiming for perfection. So of course, I failed. And there, I began to find grace.
Grace is such a funny thing. We love to talk about it, we love to make it an ideal, and we love to think we don’t deserve it.
I decided to do a little experiment and actually look for the grace that was there, no matter how little it might be. And to acknowledge and maybe even celebrate it a little. But friends, I was afraid. What if there wasn’t grace enough for me? What if . . .
I began to pay attention. I saw butterflies, blew dandelions, and jumped into puddles. I crunched leaves, tasted honeysuckle, and placed fresh flowers on the dining room table.
I started counting the laundry as a blessing, and cutting it down by blessing others from our abundance. I found a quote that embodied my undefined mission.
Cease endlessly striving for what you would like to do and learn to love what must be done. – Goethe
I found that the everyday of motherhood, which I loved in spite of being told I needed “more”, was filled with grace I had been overlooking. I learned to love what must be done.
I’m still learning it every day. I learn it when the kids go crazy and I lose my temper and my 6 year old with his big heart and sense of justice hugs me to say sorry and I get to say sorry back. I learn it when the dishwasher quits, when the first fall flowers bloom, when the chickens go broody, when the water hose bursts, and when the wash goes stale because I forgot to put it in the dryer. Again. There is always grace.
Everyday Graces has become part of my mantra. I don’t ever want to not notice the beauty and the joy that is available to me again. And so, in between homeschool and coffee chat, I share those graces with you here.
And I’m so glad, because you, friends, are part of the graces I’m so thankful for.