motherhood | iola bookazine

Posted on November 12, 2020November 11, 2020 by iola magazine

Morphing into & with the changes of motherhood – Laura Thomas

Morphing with the changes

After saying yet another heart-wrenching goodbye to a University-bound child at the airport, I head home to the empty nest once more. For me, it’s the reminder that no matter the age of my three grown kids, I’ll always be Mother. Mum. Mommy. Depending on the child. And part of motherhood is morphing with the changes, rolling with the punches, and giving it all to God!

“Motherhood is a million little moments that God weaves together with grace, redemption, laughter, tears, and most of all, love.”
Lysa TerKeurst

No matter the age of our children, those “million little moments” keep us on our toes as the kids change and grow. It also requires change and growth on our part—sometimes we get it right and other times, not so much. Who among us does not have major regrets when it comes to parenting? We wish we spent more time listening and less time nagging. More down-time and being less uptight. More laughs and less tears. More hugs and less shrugs.

We are learning beside our children

Hindsight is a gem but, in the moment of mothering, we throw our hands in the air—either in supplication to God or in utter frustration with ourselves—and we do our best. Much of the time we are learning right beside our children, growing emotionally, mentally, spiritually just as we watch them grow physically. And then in a flash, they are packing for college and we realize our time is up and we hope to goodness we have done enough…

“What you really want, desperately, wildly, in spite of everything—is for them to remember the good…What every mother wants, her most unspoken need—is a truckload of grace.”
Ann Voskamp

A truckload of grace

So much grace. For our mothering, for our kids, and for ourselves. Somewhere along the way we can forget that grace is a gift from God.

He sees and knows and loves us right where we are. Whether in the trenches of hands-on parenting kids in the home or desperately missing a grown child and wondering what role motherhood is morphing into, we are not in this alone. Not only are we mothers, we are daughters, too. Daughters of the King. He loves us and He loves our kids more than we can ever comprehend:

“Look with wonder at the depth of the Father’s marvellous love that he has lavished on us! He has called us and made us his very own beloved children.”
1 John 3:1a (TPT)

As His beloved children, we can come to Him always with our concerns, cares, and worries. He promises to give His perfect peace—and that is exactly what we need in our parenting. He knows that we will always be mom to our kids, just as He is always our Heavenly Father. That role remains even if the rest of our lives are barely recognizable as the family scatters and the nest empties. This is undeniably comforting for our children and for us, too. Mom is who we are…

Motherhood is a gift

We will always have these God-given mother hearts that constrict when our children are hurting and hold an extraordinary amount of love for them—whatever their age. That doesn’t change as the years go by, it merely morphs with our adult kids’ needs and circumstances. We have the privilege of watching them blossom, learn from mistakes, fall in love, follow their passions, and make their faith their own. It’s breathtaking.

And if we can put into practice continued growth and grace in the journey, we will remember that motherhood is a gift. It’s precious. It has excruciating seasons and brings unimaginable joy.

It’s constantly changing, unique, exhausting… and the very best of everything.

Even when the nest is empty.

A published Christian author, Laura writes heartwarming encouragement for your soul. She has three Christian romantic suspense novels published, as well as a Christian teen fiction trilogy, marriage book, and middle-grade novel. She is published in several anthologies and writes devotionals, articles, and stories for magazines and online, and shares musings on her blog. Laura is a chocoholic mom of three, married to her high school sweetheart. Originally from the UK, they live in Kelowna, British Columbia as audacious empty-nesters.

Find her at laurathomasauthor.com

THE ORPHAN BEACH

A Christian romantic suspense novel by Laura Thomas
(Published February, 2020 by Anaiah Press)

Read about The Orphan Beach on Laura’s website.

The Orphan Beach on Amazon.com

This article is just one from the Change issue of iola. If you love to put your feet up, savour the turn of paper pages in your hands, with the smell of coffee, and music in the background, and to read something that encourages and inspires, you deserve this issue! Get your issue here.

Posted on July 15, 2020October 16, 2020 by iola magazine

Finding rest in the storms of Motherhood – Laura Rizakallah

When the word “rest” comes up among a group of mothers I can guarantee I will hear some snarky comments, see a few eye rolls and even sense some animosity among friends if one lucky momma in the group mentions she may have gotten some rare and coveted rest. Many moms just hear the word “rest” and quickly change the topic as they take a swig of coffee to wash down the reality that their heart, soul, mind and body are weary beyond words. There is little understanding of how a woman called to care for the lives of children who depend on her every waking and sleeping minute can even think about caring for herself.

We mamas make time to laugh. Play. Cook. Drive. Prepare. Listen. Schedule. Order. Clean. Organize. Fold. Hug. Wipe. Communicate. We are intentional and serious about this role of motherhood that demands us to be present and delights us with joy. But where is there time for rest?

We schedule nap time and quiet time and time outs for our children because we know without them they are not as healthy and whole as they could be. We know the value of rest for our children, but do we know the value of rest for ourselves? We would love to sit and read a magazine in the sunshine of a breezy afternoon with a cup of coffee; but we find that as soon as we stop the intense movement of motherhood we fall fast asleep and awaken to “Mooooooooooom I NEEEEEEED you” and we are behind schedule, in a puddle of our own drool, with no dinner made and a feeling of guilt for falling asleep.

Motherhood is intense. But rest is intentional.

“Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28 (NLT)

I read this scripture hundreds of times over my life, but as a mom I would read it (with dark circles and blurred vision from not sleeping in 15 years) and be, “YES! Jesus! I want rest! Give me this unattainable gift!” Motherhood reality however, kept this promise too far away from me. I was convinced God was mocking me or that this promise was for the “without children” demographic. How was God going to give me, a mom of six children ages 2-16, this ambiguous gift of REST? Would he miraculously insert an oasis in the middle of my mess (He knows I can’t go anywhere without a babysitter!). Would He remove the heavy load? (That didn’t make sense because I didn’t want him to remove my kids!) Send the merry maids so I can put my feet up? (Honestly, they didn’t even have to be merry….. even miserable maids would work!)”

At the age of 42 I gave birth to our sixth child. I felt like I was caught in a washing machine in a never ending spin cycle. I was in a state of delirium and dysfunction most days. My body hurt. My mind was numb. My spirit was empty. My emotions were fragile. Weary is different than tired. Tired can be fixed with a nap. Weary is an inside tired that manifests in other issues. Weary must be met with intentional rest. The literal meaning of rest as used in this verse our of Matthew is:

I. to cause or permit one to cease from any movement or labor in order to recover and collect her strength

II. to give rest, refresh, to give one’s self rest, to TAKE rest

III. to keep quiet, of calm and patient expectation

God gives us rest and we must permit ourselves to make space in our motherhood to receive it.

Psalm 46:10 says to, “Be still and know that I am God.”

If we pause our internal posture amidst our crazy, messy and overwhelming lives and allow God to have the heavy load we are carrying daily; we will find Him in a refreshing new way. In that quiet calm we get new expectation and vision for what we have been called to care for as He quietly cares for our soul. He visits us in the stillness and when we are found we are refilled with hope and vision. Vision for motherhood restores us to continue valuing motherhood. We pause. He provides.

Shabatt

God Himself rested on the 7th day of creation. He looked around Him and saw that everything was very good and He paused. He set aside time to be still. I bet he looked around at all He had created and just delighted in it. In our pausing we can see the details and the destiny of all we get to be a part of. Life becomes a duty when don’t pause to look around at the delightful details God is creating in the hard work of motherhood. The Hebrew word for rest is Shabatt. It literally means rest. The Sabbath was given to us as an intentional way to create space to rest in our lives. If God values rest, so should we.

Motherhood is intense. Rest in intentional. In our family we choose to find ways to stop the regularly scheduled crazy of life and delight in each other. It’s intentional. It’s relational. It’s delightful.

We aren’t loosing anything by setting aside a day to rest. We are gaining peace, joy, calm in the chaos and restored vision and refilled relationships. Rest gives back what we give away. Rest is a practice that keeps us so we can keep on keeping on. Rest is not an event (like a manicure or an afternoon away with friends), it is a way of living. A rhythm. A cadence. Shabatt helps us remember the rhythm so we don’t get lost in the rigor.

Choosing to Shabatt gives us the opportunity to restore, refuel, reflect. Wonder and ponder, dream and remember. Setting aside a day to rest gives us the opportunity to know God, find God and recover our strength.

Storm Stopper

Another way I have learned what rest means to me as a mother of many is to learn how to trust the storm stopper and not look into the storm.

Did you ever read the story of Jesus in the storm found in Matthew 8:23-27? We find Jesus fast asleep in the midst of all the crazy whirring of wind and clatter of thunder while beating rain pounds against the boat. (This kind of noise reminds me of motherhood!)

The kind of rest that Jesus was experiencing was the kind of internal rest that trusted beyond the storm. He knew He had power over the storm and therefore could rest assured knowing the storm was temporary and would not harm him or the disciples with him. We can choose to be still and rest while life is whirling and twirling and clanging and banging around us. We can learn to abide.

Abiding is the active choice to live in God’s presence internally no matter what is happening externally. But, you say, I can’t stop the storms in my life. The chaos of children. The insanity of schedules gone out of control. The furious and crazy rhythm of life and all it brings…. I can’t stop it! How can I rest in it. We learn to trust the one who quiets the storms while we go through them.

In motherhood we must learn to rest in the hope of the storm stopper and not get shaken by the storm. When everything is threatening to sink our soul and flood our life boat with water we want to freak out and jump out! Jesus shows us that we can learn to be at peace in the stormy parts of motherhood because we trust Him to speak to the storm and cause it to stop. AND even if He doesn’t, we can learn to rest in His power and peace as we ride out the storm. Abiding allows our soul to stay connected to the source of peace even when the situation around us has threatened to disconnect us from peace. Abiding in our source of strength, hope and power gives us an internal peace that passes anything we can understand or see in our external chaos.

As mothers we see the storms of life but we stay connected to the power source of peace on the inside so we are not shaken by the power of the storm on the outside. Rest replenishes the soul of our inner girl so we can keep pouring out. Rest was given by God to us to give back what we have given away. Resting is meant to restore our empty places. Motherhood is intense. Resting is intentional. Motherhood is a calling. You are a gift. Rest is how we protect the calling and the gift God has given your family in your powerful role as mother.

Reflect:

Quiet your heart and ask God how you can learn to insert an intentional pause into your daily life. Practice being still and waiting to hear His voice whisper life back in to your weary heart. Intentionally begin to answer the questions below as you wait on the Lord to renew your strength as you rest in His power, presence and peace.

How can you set aside a day you and your family can practice Shabatt? What does that look like practically?
What stormy situations can you stop focusing on and start focusing on the power of the storm stopper?
Where can you intentionally insert a pause (even if it is just 5 minutes a day) so you can intentionally be still and know your God.

“My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” Exodus 33:14

Laura Rizakallah is a freelance writer and speaker. Laura lives in upstate NY with her husband and their six children. Laura’s desire is to connect her audience with God. Laura’s speaking and writing has inspired and impacted others to connect with God over the last 15 years. Laura writes bold, beautiful & brave words that stir your heart. Every word, invites you to live the crazy amazing life of love, hope and faith you were born for. Laura believes that a girl and the gospel are a powerful force God uses every day to turn ordinary into extraordinary. Laura believes that every woman can live her purpose, pursue her passion and IGNITE the world with the power and love of Jesus Christ. www.readysetgogirl.com

This is one of the articles from iola the rest issue. Read more about it and get your copy here.

Posted on July 10, 2020July 10, 2020 by iola magazine

Laundry can wait – Cara Stolen

From the window in my home office, I have a perfect view of the pasture closest to our house, where we feed our cows in the early spring. Every day, after I put the kids down for their afternoon nap, I stand at it for awhile. I’ve watched the snow melt and the sagebrush bud; observed the cows’ bellies widen and their udders expand as we draw closer to their due dates—signs of spring and new life.

Today, I lean against the warm glass and gently massage my lower back. I look for new calves and signs of labor in each expectant cow. In theory, that’s why I stand here every day: to make sure there isn’t a cow stalled in labor needing help to give birth. But more than that, I like watching the calm, quiet actions of our mama cows.

Our oldest cow, 1095, gave birth to her eighth calf last week. From this vantage point, I noticed her pacing circles around the pasture and knew it was time. An hour later, she licked her white-faced calf clean and then stood to feed him his first meal. I couldn’t help but grin, delighted by the miracle of life yet again.

I stretch to the side, then turn to face my desk. A stack of bills, an open day planner, two coffee cups, and a full email inbox await me. But as I start to sit, the washer chimes. I tiptoe down the hall and throw the clean clothes on our (still unmade) bed. On my way back to the laundry room, I catch sight of the kitchen, where dishes are piled in the sink and lunch remnants cover the island. I dash into the kitchen to clean up, telling myself it will only take a minute. With the dishwasher loaded and counters wiped, I head back toward the office, forgetting entirely about the clean clothes in the washer.

Glancing out the window on my way to my desk, I see 1095 and her calf making their way up the hill to the water trough. She nudges him gently with her nose, then steadies him when he stumbles on his still-new legs.

Observing other moms and babies makes me feel included. Part of. Because motherhood was created by God, and I’m filling a role he designed.

Ignoring the mountain of paperwork, I watch 1095 and her calf rejoin the rest of the herd. As her calf lays down, she touches noses with another, still expectant cow and swishes her tail at another cow’s calf, sending him back to his mom. Then she lowers to her knees and lays down beside her calf.

I pull myself away from the window and sit at my desk. Yawning, I take a sip of this morning’s (yesterday’s?) cold coffee, and read through my email. I respond to a few, delete others, and turn to tackle the paperwork on my left. I sort through it, tossing receipts and making notes in my planner of due dates and deadlines, but find nothing urgent. I should go fold that laundry, and make the bed. Maybe I’ll even have time to clean the bathrooms before the kids wake up.

Spinning around in my chair, I look out the window one last time. The whole herd is laying down now, all the new and expectant moms basking in the long-awaited warmth of spring after a longer-than-normal winter.

1095 tenderly licks her calf’s ear. I remember those early newborn days with both of my kids, but I’m struck by how little my mothering resembled hers. While she is completely present with her baby, I behaved much the way I do now and filled every moment with laundry and cleaning and work.

Trailing my fingers along the desk’s edge on my way out, I catch sight of the corner of my Bible, peeking out from under a power bill. It’s been a while since I’ve opened it—putting it off for a night I’m not so tired or during naptime after my chores are done. But that never happens, and every day my kids wake up from their naps to a clean house, clean clothes, and a tired, worn-out mom.

Why is it so hard for me to rest and let myself relax? If God created both 1095 and me for motherhood, why does her mothering look so easy and relaxed while mine looks so frenzied and exhausting? Did it take her eight babies to reach this point? Or does she just instinctively know something I struggle to accept: that God created us to work and rest?

The laundry can wait, I decide. I grab my Bible and tiptoe to the living room. Pulling a fleece throw from beneath the entertainment center, I sink into the corner of the couch and open its cover.

Thirty minutes later, I hear my son’s door open. His feet pitter-patter down the hall toward me, waking his sister, but I can’t help but smile. He rounds the couch with a “Hi, Mom!” and clambers into my lap. To my surprise, I’m not mad that he woke up my daughter. And for the first time in I-can’t-remember-how-long I’m ready, and delighted, for them to be awake; rejuvenated and refreshed by God’s word.

Cara Stolen is a ranch wife and work-at-home mama of two living in rural Washington state. She loves exceptionally early mornings, strong black coffee, and listening to her children giggle. You can find her hiding in her pantry sneaking chocolate chips by the handful, or on Instagram (@carastolen). She has been published previously by Coffee + Crumbs and Holl & Lane Magazine, and writes occasionally at www.carastolen.com.

This is one of the articles from the rest issue. Read more about it and buy it here.

Posted on April 20, 2020April 20, 2020 by iola magazine

To the mom who feels constantly needed and rarely seen – Amber Salhus

While our kids played in the next room, my friend and I stood in her kitchen, sipping coffee and talking about our dreams in hushed tones peppered with nervous laughter, as if the very topic was somehow taboo.

Frivolous.

Indulgent.

Maybe even selfish?

“I feel like I’ve lost pieces of myself since having kids…” She spoke quietly, almost to herself, but her words echoed loudly inside my own heart.

I knew exactly what she meant.

I think in an honest moment, many of us would admit we do.

Motherhood, especially in those early years, can be an engulfing experience. It’s a deeply beautiful, life-giving (literally), and fulfilling role that some of us have always dreamt of, but there can be moments when it feels as if motherhood and the minutia of the day might swallow our identity whole. Like we’re constantly needed yet rarely seen.

We’re busy doing those million and one little things that we worry don’t matter, even while knowing, deep in our hearts they do. We teach, we train, we pray, we worry, we kiss, we rock, we soothe, we comfort, we’re filled up and emptied clear out 100 times in a day. We lose sleep and gain access to chambers of our hearts we never knew existed. We’re driven to the edge of our sanity and then pulled back again in one suddenly tender moment.

We ride that rollercoaster of fear and worry, pride and dismay, wonder and bafflement, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

We love our life.

And yet…

We wonder about those pieces of ourselves that seem to have disappeared. Our audacity, our playfulness, our ability to dream. They don’t call. They don’t send flowers. They just slipped unceremoniously out the back door.

Will they ever come back?

As mothers we gladly make room for our children to play, to discover who they are, to explore their creativity, to try and fail. We tend and grow their dreams, teach gumption and courage, and we speak life over them…

So often forgetting that God still longs to do the same for us.

Even now.

Especially now.

A common theme I hear from every single mother I talk to, one I was once painfully familiar with myself, is the feeling that we’ve “lost” pieces of ourselves somewhere along the way since having children.

It feels bittersweet.

It feels disorienting.

It feels final.

As much as we love motherhood, we quietly question if it’s become our main identifier, if it’s the only important work we’ll ever do, or if it’s the final act in the story God is writing for us.

We go through our days vaguely aware that there are dreams hidden away in the corners of our heart, but we aren’t sure if they’re big or too small and to be honest we don’t have the time to figure it out.

We’re afraid to look closely at those dreams, to name them, or to bother God with them. He’s busy… WE’RE busy. So we let fear and doubt keep us from chasing them down.

We learn to live with an ache.

A longing.

Not for a different life, but a deeper life.

One where we’re fully awake to our unique gifting. Where we allow ourselves to believe that our dreams actually matter, and not just to us. Where we bravely pursue them in the middle of motherhood and our right now life, knowing that we don’t need permission, or a formal invitation, we need only to begin.

Five years ago I stood in my kitchen (because apparently the kitchen is where all my meaningful conversations take place now?) and I blurted out to a friend that I “wanted to write a book one day.” And then I laughed. I LAUGHED like it was some kind of hilarious joke. Because at that point in my life, as a stay at home mom with very young children and no “free time” to speak of, it honestly felt ridiculous, like I may as well have said that I wanted to move to Hollywood and be famous.

What a joke, right?

I wasn’t even blogging yet at the time, but my offhand “joke” struck a chord somewhere deep in my soul, shaking the dust off of a very hidden, very real dream to write. A dream that had always been there, but that I’d been too afraid to acknowledge.

It’s easier to leave those things safely tucked away in the peripheral of our consciousness, right?

Pursuing any dream is going to require quite a lot from us- it asks us to step out of our comfort zone, embrace risk, be vulnerable, put ourselves out there, learn humility and gumption, and to sit patiently within the tension of the creative process instead of struggle against it.

The thing is, I think God longs to partner with us in all of that.

This might seem obvious and trite to you, but for me it was nothing short of revelatory. I never would’ve admitted it aloud, but somewhere along the line I subconsciously decided that God didn’t really care about woo-woo stuff like “chasing dreams” and “making art”, or even beauty for the sake of beauty. (What can I say, sometimes I’m not very smart.)

Emily Freeman once said, “I believe, deep in my bones that we can’t separate creative work from spiritual formation.”

I’ve found this to be profoundly true of my own experience. In the last few years as I’ve woken up to my creative self and the dreams tucked away in my heart, as I’ve taken my place in the creative arena, every part of this process has been inexorably linked with my inner spiritual life.

I think that’s because God actually cares about this stuff, and when we start to care about it too, there’s an intimate fellowship with the Holy Spirit at work within us.

Moms, what would happen if we leaned in to those places that ache because they feel unimportant?

What if all those pieces of ourselves that feel “lost” or shoved away in a drawer marked “Inconsequential” are the very key to our own unique brand of creativity?

What if we allowed ourselves to believe that God cares about the dreams tucked way in our hearts even more than we do, because he put them there, on purpose and for such a time as this? What if we found the gumption to walk towards them with boldness and an unflagging joy?

How different would our story be?

Take heart today, mamas. If you find yourself in a season of feeling more needed than seen, know that you have not been left on the shelf. Know that you are doing important work.

Did you hear that?

You are doing important work.

Right now.

Every diaper change that turns into a tickle fight. Every moment you linger on their cheek. Every nap-time showdown. Every trip to the grocery store that takes twice as long and is half as productive. Every tiny, tender sacrifice of yourself. You are doing important work.

If you find yourself in a season of limited time, opportunity, or energy when “pursuing your dreams” and “exploring your creativity” feels impossible, just remember that the thing about seasons is they always change.

And whatever season you find yourself in, there’s always meaningful work for you to do, because you are always you.

Amber Salhus is a wife, mom, blogger, house-flipper, comedy lover, and burgeoning farmer. She lives in the Oregon countryside with her husband, their two kids, and their ever-growing list of animals. She openly shares the adventures of dreaming big in the middle of motherhood, navigating the creative process, and finding the humor in all of it at ambersalhus.com.

This article is taken from the Bloom issue

Posted on April 19, 2020April 19, 2020 by iola magazine — Leave a comment

Motherhood, one season of many – Betsy Stretar

At age 32, I gave birth to the last of my eight children. I can honestly say there is nothing I have loved more, than being a mother.

But like most moms, I did not always love everything that came with it. For me, laundry was one of those things I dreaded most.

I can laugh about it today, but my most memorable pathetic mom moment was the day my husband found me crying in twenty+ loads of laundry. He most-likely interpreted my pathetic-mom-moment as a desperate-mom-moment. So being the macho coach that he was (and still is) he took action and went for the game-winning point. He helped me up and said, “I need to get you out of here.” “I don’t think there’s anything more life-giving to a worn-out and wrung-out Mom than the gift of time.” I packed my weekend bag, got in my car, and drove to a bed and breakfast about an hour away from our home. It was an unexpected gift that my soul desperately needed. And although a get-away is wonderfully helpful, the reality is that the mundane is where we live out most of our parenting days. What I wish someone would have said to me during those early years are these three things:

1. Hang in there, Momma! This is but one season of many.

2. Be careful that you don’t neglect your own soul while caring for everyone else’s.

3. Don’t you know that you are more than a mom?

One Season of Many

As a young mom, the days are long indeed when you’re knee deep in mounds of laundry and other daily demands. There seems to be little time left to do anything else. I remember thinking “someday” my creative “other” life will return to me. In my mind’s eye, I envisioned a carved wooden sign sitting on a shelf, high out of reach, gathering dust that read:

my life

“One day.” I thought, “I will be able to bring her back down, dust her off, and help her get back to doing those things she never had time to do.” But that day seemed far off in the distance future. I was a restless creative and I felt as though I was neglecting her. I wanted to do other things besides laundry and cooking and cleaning. In the life of a mother, every mundane moment counts. And because it counts, it’s imperative that we make sure we are giving from a full cup and not an empty one.

Care for Your Soul

One thing that saddens me greatly is the number of women who struggle with their personal identity and worth. By the time their children leave home, they don’t know who they are or what their purpose in life is because they neglected the whole person God made them to be. I so appreciated the act of kindness my husband showed me that day in my laundry room. But there were many days when relief could not be found. I’m thankful for my mentor friend, Andrea, who encouraged me to create space in my life to do those things I enjoy. It’s not a matter of finding the time, it’s a matter of making time in our lives to do those things that God wired us to do. caring for your soul is a gift you not only give to yourselves, but to your entire family. Our children (and husbands) deserve healthy, balanced moms (and wives) who give from a full cup, not an empty one. As women, we must discover what that balance looks in our lives so that even in the mundane, we find joy, and fulfillment, and purpose.

You’re more than a Mom!

May I gently remind you? You are more than a mom! You were designed to glorify God with the gifts he has entrusted to you. There are things hiding inside you that must come out because that’s the way God wired you. Find a way in your hustle and bustle momma life, to feed the part of your soul that makes you come alive. Don’t do it at the expense of your family – do it around your family. Make it a priority because it will help you be a better mom and it will help you prepare for your empty nest life after kids. My life was not on a shelf…this was my life. I needed to learn how to become more of who God made me to be in the mundane of everyday motherhood.

What about you lovely lady?

You…who stand right there in the thick of it and persevering in the mundane of it. How will you become more of your true self in the midst of the mundane of motherhood?

Elizabeth Duncan Stretar, (Cleveland, Ohio) is the mother of 8 married adults, grandmother to 16, and enjoys spending her empty-nest time with husband, Frank. She is a graduate of Fuller Theological Seminary (MACL), Young Life’s first national director and currently working as a major airline Flight Attendant. Stretar’s passion is to help others live an above and beyond kind of life, by encouraging them realize their untapped potential, discover their life-purpose that strives to make a difference in the lives of others.

She’s a published author of children’s book, Acorn Gert & Brother Bert (Halo Publishing, 2016) and blogs at Elizabeth Duncan Stretar: Above and Beyond Mid-life www.betsystretar.com