Some days, it feels like I blink and the house goes from “kind of messy” to “did a tornado named Toddler just pass through here?” One minute I’m wiping a nose, the next I’m reheating my coffee for the third time, and somewhere in between, I’m pretty sure I fed everyone… I think.
Life as a mom of four is nothing short of a full-body workout—emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and yes, physically (because carrying a toddler on your hip while making grilled cheese counts as core work, right?). The days are packed and unpredictable. Schedules fly out the window. Socks disappear into thin air. And someone always needs a snack.
But here’s the beautiful thing I’ve learned: even in chaos, there can be rhythm.
It might not look like the perfectly color-coded routine I once dreamed up during my pre-kid Pinterest phase, but it’s mine. It’s real. And it’s always evolving. Over time, I’ve found that rhythm doesn’t mean strict structure—it means flow. It means knowing what grounds you, what energizes you, and what helps you reset when things go sideways (again).
For me, that rhythm includes:
- A quiet moment (even just five minutes!) with my Bible in the morning—sometimes with a toddler snuggled beside me, sometimes while hiding in the bathroom.
- Coffee. Always coffee.
- Laughing instead of losing it when the baby dumps cereal on the floor for the fifth time. Or spilled milk (why, oh why does it always have to be the milk)?
- Accepting that some days we thrive, and some days we just survive.
- Letting go of perfection and holding onto presence.
I’ve come to believe that God isn’t waiting for me to find a perfect routine before He shows up. He’s right here in the spilled juice, the early wake-ups, and the laundry piles. He meets me in the mess. And in those little, quiet moments—between the diaper changes and snack refills—I can hear the rhythm of grace humming through it all.
So if your life feels like a whirlwind today, mama, know this: you’re not alone. The rhythm is there. Sometimes it’s loud and joyful, sometimes it’s quiet and weary—but it’s yours. And it’s beautiful.