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I struggle with purpose. The purpose driven life? ha! How about the toddler driven life? Or the poop driven life? Oh here’s one. The never ending pile of dirty laundry driven life? Our pastor often preaches on dreaming big at the beginning of every year. What’s your dream? He asks. My dream is to dream. To sleep a full 9 hours uninterrupted. Ahhh. No, but in all reality my dream, my purpose is to create a life and environment where my husband and the little humans we care for can feel comfort, love, and the freedom to dream their dreams. I sit (this is clearly a metaphor. Because I never actually sit) back and watch dreams unfold and become a reality. I am loved by a creator who formed the world and all that is within it in 6 days. I follow in his enormous footsteps to build a home and environment for my husband and children to thrive in.

There is such a push for purpose – a push to DO something- something tangible and something that is exchangeable for money. It makes me feel purposeless, dreamless, unambitious at times. Until…

Until a gentle whisper reminds me who I am.

Until I hear tiny footsteps running (sometimes accompanied by a shriek) my way.

Until the bathtub overflows with bubbles and laughter.

Until my husband just looks at me

Until the reeking smell of ripe baby poo snaps me back to reality.

Yep, my purpose is to mom. They couldn’t survive without me.