The holy repetition of motherhood

"Wipe my tears, mommy." It's a request I hear often, if not daily. Finn looks up at me with pink cheeks and watery eyes, after a tumble or a disappointment, and waits for me to use my sleeve or the hem of my sweatshirt to dry his eyes. I respond to this request all the time – and yet I know that someday, it will be the last time he asks this of me.

The little repetitions that come from being a parent are both surprising and comforting to me. There is much routine in each day: the preparation of food, the helping with little daily tasks, holding or wearing my littlest, the folding of laundry and cleaning of our home, tidying toys and papers, and the frequent reminders to my children, "Close the garage door, please," and "Please take a few more bites of your breakfast," and "What do we always say? Brothers stick together."

I usually love the routine of days and weeks that look the same from one to the next. I love the rhythm and the sameness and understanding when we all know what's next in our day. And yet, there are days when something different sounds more interesting, or at the very least, easier. The mundane and the repetition is refining for me, in my role as a wife and a mom. And I can redirect the temptation of a carefree life into joy for the day and the people who are in front of me. The same tasks, done faithfully (albeit imperfectly), result in a softening of my heart, like the covers of a well-read paperback book, opened and closed and carried around, a little worn and lived-in.

I often lay with the big boys as they are falling asleep. There are many occasions when I am eager for everyone to fall asleep quickly so I can proceed with whatever I need or want to do with my evening. But I have noticed a shift in the last several weeks. I have a reverence for this time with them. We have a conversation about what we did with our day, we prayer together: sometimes in my voice, sometimes in Cooper's. I lay on the bottom bunk with Arlo tucked in next to me, and I hold Finn's hand, or feel his little arm draped over my shoulder. Cooper peeks over the the railing of the top bunk and tells me, "I love you, mommy. Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite." I usually doze off for a few minutes just as Cooper and Finn do. I want to hold these last few minutes of their day with honor, and it's brought tears to my eyes more than once.

Repetition breeds patience in my heart and a reliance on the Lord on difficult days. And yet, there is a comfort in the repetition. I so often reach for my knitting – hundreds or thousands of uniform stitches, all lined up, all formed the same way, made one after the other. A refining comfort and steady repetition. A thing of beauty and use, created on stitch at a time.

And in the end, Lord, that's my prayer: may my life be a thing of both beauty and use, and holy repetition. What an honor it is to love and serve my family well, to the glory of Your name.

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot.
The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance. Psalm 16: 5-6

I have many godly friends in my life who are mothers – each in their own story and each uniquely wonderful at listening and encouraging me. There are three recent occasions that I want to remember, when I look back on May 2025.

My friend Kathleen and I planned a little field trip day with our (six!) boys between us. We went to Whole Foods, the nearest local yarn store, and a nearby park for a picnic lunch. It's been two years running that we've done this itinerary and it's so fun. Last year, we were both pregnant with the infants we're now wearing in our carriers. What a gift. Of course there was knitting and crochet talk and she shared her fancy cheese with me and the boys decided to throw dirt all over themselves (as you do, when you're a boy ages 3-6) and we drove home tired, and "filled up" and encouraged.

I went to my friend, Molly's earlier this week. The kids played with her dog and climbed trees and looked at coins and Molly made chocolate muffins and Chemex coffee (with MCT and collagen) for us. And we laughed a lot (always) and talked about music we listened to together back when we lived in Austin and how that makes us feel now, ten years later(!), and we talked about how we see the Lord teach us so much through our kids. And there was some knitting, naturally.

And then we spent an afternoon at my friend Lauren's house. The kids were busy playing outside the entire time. We juggled babies and she made coffee and we snacked on sourdough chocolate chip muffins. We talked about the weight and heaviness of parenting and about how it can reveal all sorts of pride in our hearts. And we talked about how even if something isn't perfect, it can still be good.

Thank you, God for the gift of these friends (and many others, not local to me in this stage of life)! Friends who love me well, despite my faults and insecurities. Friends who encourage and pray for me in a season of life that's not always easy, but in the midst of repetition and sameness, there is so much beauty.

P.S. – And I am so thankful for Nicholas. For the father he is to our boys and tenderness and wisdom he has as we parent together. My experience of motherhood is so much better for all the intention he puts into fatherhood.