A Legacy of Love.

It takes a village to raise a child.

It takes an army to raise a mother.

I’m over six years in to this whole motherhood thing, and you’d think by now I’d have hit my stride. In some ways I’m sure I have. In others, I’m still a total work in progress. I’d venture a guess that most moms feel this way at some point or another.. the ever changing landscape of motherhood is a faith-filled battlefield. And it’s one we cannot walk through alone.

It’s beautiful, but not exactly glamorous. In fact, it’s incredibly frustrating at times. Scary. Exhausting. Mentally and physically depleting. There’s always someone needing something, wanting more; something I wish I’d done differently…but it’s also the only job in the world where I can feel this way and know it’s the best, most important work I’ll ever do. I know how loved I am. How irreplaceable I am. How God chose me, specifically, for each one of my babies. How He placed Paul into my life at the perfect time; and had the graciousness to place the most beautiful friendships along my path as well. I have truly found myself in motherhood.

The real life, wild hair, no makeup, frustrated, proud, complicated, confident, content me of today is probably pretty unrecognizable to the girl I once was. Or maybe that little girl would actually fully recognize me now… now with many, many layers stripped away. I’d give anything to hold the little girl version of myself (and possibly even more so my teenage & early 20s self) and say “look. look at all you’ll become”.

I’d show her the me who loves the smell of a barn as much as the scent of library books or salty ocean air. The one who left that dream job in sports to dance in the kitchen while her babies eat breakfast, and how joyful that choice has made her. The me who craves adventure, but is ok with slowing the pace in this season of life while her boys just want to be held close. The me who is busy writing a novel, building a business, who still genuinely adores Harry Potter and Taylor Swift. The me who loves few things more than golfing with her husband.

I honestly think her mind would be blown.

I’d tell that girl who never really feels like she fits, that it’s because she doesn’t. She wasn’t meant for a life in a box, no matter how shiny or exciting that box may be. That she now knows exactly who she is, and where she belongs. That she will discover the true meaning of home, but she’ll find it within people, instead of a place. And I’d remind her how finding her tribe - the sisters who will support her, guide her, and go to battle alongside her - simply cannot be rushed.

Because the army that is now raising this mother is so full: moms, coaches, advocates, artists, trainers, nutritionists, chefs, designers, doulas, educators, writers, co-workers, mentors, and even mentees. You’ve held me at my worst, celebrated my every success, and helped me thrive as a mom to these boys.

We’ve been to battle together, especially over the last few years; fighting for our children’s health, education, safety… we’ve found connection through powerful birth stories, cross-country moves, second or third babies, and gut-wrenching trauma. You’ve taught me how to be more mindful, more present, more peaceful, more prayerful. Friends who pray for you and your family… I mean fiercely pray for you… are purely heaven sent.

As I write tonight, I’m also snuggling Jackson (6) as he tries to fall back asleep after a nightmare. I can feel it teetering, the balance between him still wanting me all the time, with wanting more freedom than I’m ready to give. So I’ll hold him as long as he needs, just as I did when he was brand new - another micro moment of a reminder how nothing I will ever do could possibly be as important as being my child’s safe space; his version of home.

And I do want to do so much with this one precious life. I want to publish a book (maybe a few), fine tune my passion for photography, ride horses throughout Montana, read hundreds (thousands?) of books, golf in Scotland, drink wine in Italy, become a postpartum doula, watch countless sunsets on the beach, be there to see my boys grow up, follow their passions, get married, and have their own babies. Hell, maybe I’ll even run another marathon. Most importantly, however…I want to love. I want the capacity to fully feel love, to be love. And when I strip away all the things I want to do, and focus instead on simply who I want to be, who God designed me to be… I can rest easy knowing all of the above will work itself out.

At the end of the day, I want my little family to feel and know, without question, what it means to be surrounded by love… gentle, pure, uncomplicated, love. I want my children to remember a mother who loved herself as wholly as she loved each one of them. A mom who pursued every square inch of her passions.. all of them. A mom who worked daily for a marriage that was full of love, kindness, and honesty. A mom who lived purposeful, faithful, joyful.

I am the creative force behind this one, perfectly imperfect, life. I believe I’m leaving behind a lasting impression of love; an imprint on these three souls that will reverberate for generations. A legacy supported, held, encouraged, and built, brick by brick, by one hell of a tribe. An army of women have helped mold me into the woman and mother I am today and the one I am becoming. Thank you, every single one of you, for raising me during these incredibly precious years while I raise my own.

What a legacy we are leaving behind.