by Mrs. Smith on July 15, 2022

I think I just unlocked a new super-power, friends.

I reread my last blog post and noticed probably 10 typos, of the sort that get made when you’re swyping instead of typing. Words that are technically spelled correctly but mess with the meanings of things, or straight up don’t make sense in context.

“Improve” instead of “improv.”




Who even am I????

I’m a mom who sneaks quiet moments to write when the Baby is sleeping and the Bigs are on screens. I don’t have time to make every post perfect.

I’m a mom who is rapidly learning and growing and dealing with a lot of adulting lately.

I’m a mom who rather abruptly uprooted her kids from a beautiful place and tried to transplant them into another beautiful place… aaaaaaaaaanddddddd, don’t ask me how that’s working for me.


I’m a mom who forged incredible tools over the course of many years in the fire of trauma recovery, and who is now figuring out what to do with those tools now that the flames have died down.

Like, okay, that was intense. Now what?

Now…. nothing?

Life can be…. chill? Boring, even? I mean, it’s never Actually boring, because kids won’t ever let THAT happen. But I mean, inside me. It’s empty now in a way that just lets good things grow. I don’t have to fight for that. It just… is…. quiet.

There are a lot of fun little “normal” things that I am able to do now, that feel like HUGE glorious moments that should legit be framed. Enshrined. Shouted from rooftops and given a moment of reverie bordering on worship. …But they’re such normal little everyday things that y’all would think I’m crazy for the tears of gratitude streaming down my face as I recall them.

What kinds of things, you wonder.

Here’s one:

The other day, I remembered a little tune from a movie I liked as a kid, “Oliver and Co.” I found it on youtubemusic, hit play, sang it out nice and loud, and held a dance party of one as I made breakfast.

Nothing earth-shattering there.
Except it was to me.

The ability to let go of a boat-ton of stress and worries and hard things and just jam to a song you haven’t heard in 30 years…


May your life never get so hard for so long that you forget how to do that.

May you never let any belief or experience take that ability from you.

But if it happens, and you forget how to dance, may you find your way back to it, and may you cherish it for the gift it is.

May our lives not only reflect joy, but radiate it! May we all recognize the goodness there in our hearts already, so we more easily outgrow and shed that which isn’t helpful.

Speaking of reflecting and radiating…

In addition to the newfound ability to LEAVE typos (whoa),
one of my other superpowers is getting little visualizations that come to mind. In writing out those thoughts, I “seeing” in my mind, little balls of light all encased in mirrors. Like, imagine a small box where the sides are made of mirrors. The little balls think they need the mirrors around them so they can reflect light… but in putting those walls up, they hide their own light completely.


And then they wonder why things feel so dark.

Drop the mirrors. You *are* light. You always have been. You can “reflect light” with one little mirror. You don’t need to be completely encased in them.

Jesus came to liberate us from that which enslaves the heart, mind, and soul. Whatever it is that keeps you from feeling the infinite love inside you and evident in all of creation — I respectfully request that you let that sh*t go.

Hope you have a great day. 😉

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