A steady and sound mind as a mom who wrestles with contradictions
A sound mind as a mother isn’t quiet or orderly—
it’s what becomes forged in interruption, surrender and choosing presence without losing who you are.
I’m typing this out while standing in the kitchen counter island while the potatoes are roasting in the oven. It be like that sometimes when you submit to walking through the fire without a plan. You can go through an entire day not knowing what to write. Then somewhere between mincing the garlic, pre-heating the oven and wiping down the countertops, the words show up. They rush through all at once and suddenly you’re filled with the insatiable urge to write.
And by “you”, I mean me.
Don’t worry I don’t plan on burning anything. I at least reasoned with myself and said as long as everything is put away and the dishes are clean— it’s a green light to write.
But this—this right here—is the quiet, daily wrestle of a mother.
We are the heartbeat of our home.
We keep everyone fed, heard, bathed and covered.
We hold routines together while holding ourselves together.
We want a sound mind, not just for ourselves but because everyone else leans on it.
Our peace becomes the temperature of the room.
And yet, inside us lives a tension no one talks about.
The desire to be fully present while aching to be productive.
The call to be strong while deep in exhaustion.
The overwhelming love for our children while grieving parts of ourselves that feel paused or simply passed.
The other day my 2.5 year old was lying on the turfed patio floor in her little playhouse, stretched out right where the sun was shining.
I asked her, “what cha up to Riah?”
And she response, “I’m just relaxing.”
It cracks me up to hear that from her but it’s language we use around this house.
Since she was 1, we have taught her how to take deep breaths and there will be times when we need to hear it most, that she’ll be the one reminding us to take a deep breath.
The manifestation of a sound mind in us shows up in our children.
But it’s not in a way we expect.
A sound mind isn’t created by floating peacefully through life.
It isn’t built by coasting your way past reality or pretending the hard parts don’t exist.
A sound mind doesn’t always look like silence or solitude—
especially these days.
Sometimes it looks like choosing creativity instead of scrolling, choosing reflection instead of shutting down and sometimes it looks like honoring doing of what you love and refusing to disappear into responsibility.
More so, it looks like intention in the middle of noise.
Presence in the middle of demand.
Choice in the middle of constraint.
Sometimes a sound mind looks like choosing creativity instead of scrolling, even when your energy feels low.
Choosing reflection instead of shutting down, even when numbing feels easier.
Choosing to honor what you love, again and again while carrying the weight of responsibility.
Because disappearing into duty may look like you deserve a badge of honor but it slowly costs you yourself.
Motherhood will always stretch you in ways no one warns you about.
Your body, time and thoughts are no longer just yours.
And yet, somewhere between the noise and the needs, there’s still a voice inside asking to be received.
Writing is how I tend to it not because everything is calm, but because it isn’t.
A sound mind isn’t without chaos.
It’s learning how to stay whole inside of it.
So if you’re a mama reading this- tired, stretched thin, loving your children deeply while quietly missing parts of yourself… know this:
Wanting more does not mean you are ungrateful.
Wanting space to create does not mean you are absent.
Pursuing what you love or honoring God’s calling does not make you selfish; it makes you whole.
Your children don’t need a version of you that is emptied out and always available.
They need the one who is alive, grounded and carries a sound mind.
The one who shows them that caring for them and honoring their calling in life can co-exist.
The way you’re fighting to stay present and pursue what lights you up is not a failure - it’s formation.
And every time you choose to show up for it, not hide, not tuck it away for tomorrow or another day—
you are teaching them how to live. 🍵
Warmly,
