I woke up this morning with butterflies in my stomach, again. This time, I was crying, too. My sweet husband resorted to tell me I am a ‘good mommy,’ a ‘good wife,’ and finally, ‘a good woman,’ which made me laugh through my tears.

Before I left for work, Miranda was telling her baby doll that someone else was going to take care of her while she was gone. Oh dear. I hid my tears behind my oversized coffee mug.

I got to an early meeting with a tour company, and the conversation, before talks of FIT contracts and ticket discounts, turned to leaving our little girls at school or with another caretaker all day. The woman I was meeting with told me when her daughter changed schools, she cried for 2 months.

I. Am. In for it.

I have been playing The Quicks’ version of ‘Be Still My Soul’ over and over today, even if just in my head. But somehow, seemingly screaming this message at myself is contradicting the message itself. I can’t get calm. I am jumpy. I know this is irrational level of worry, that quadzillons of 3 and a half and almost-5 year olds go to school every day, and batrillions of kids have much bigger problems, like getting clean water or having no parents at all to obsess over whether the beachside, state of the art, Christian preschool is good enough for them.

It’s just my reality right now.

I can’t stop thinking that God didn’t give me these miracles to have someone else raise them,
And yet I know how stupid that is. Just because I am not with them all day doesn’t make me Not The Momma.

And don’t even get me started on Paige leaving for college nine hours away…

I was just telling someone yesterday that I don’t need evidence or explanation to underwrite my faith. God has never, ever failed me. But He cannot control my fears and doubts. Only I can. So I recite it: (and reflect on one of the most peaceful Momma moments I have captured in a photo…)


Be still, my soul; thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.