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He caught me. I asked Him for some "Mommy-time." If I could got to the Farmers Market by myself, and maybe take the long way home via a coffee shop. His reply, "Don't you mean you need 'Meg-time.' 

Why the difference in word choices? Because, as much as I'm mommy, I'm so much more than that. I'm Meg, Meg the mother, Meg the wife, Meg the writer, Meg the lover of life, of nature, of reading, Meg the follower of Christ. 

And sometimes, I just need that time.

Time. Time to think, to breathe, to remember why I'm living this life. 

It's the time I seek in the early morning hours. The time I seek right now, while both children nap.

It's the moments, the seemingly split-second increments where I re-focus, revamp, reconnect with my Creator. Where I sit in peace and quiet, ok with that quiet. 

Ok with just being me.

Those moments of quiet are very conducive to worrying. The other night i sat upright in bed, so concerned about some parenting choices I've been making.

Life, life is such a battle. 

But shouldn't it be so?

We live in a world that's not our own. We are imperfect, I am imperfect surround by imperfect. 

But we're not called to wallow in those imperfections.

No, we're called to perfect peace.

"You will keep the mind that is dependent on You
in perfect peace, for it is trusting in You" (Isaiah 26:3, HCSB).

We're called to lives of joy.

"You reveal the path of life to me; in Your presence is abundant joy; in Your right hand are eternal pleasures" (Psalm 16:11, HCSB).

We're called to such a beautiful life, something I sometimes forget when I'm the midst of mommy-mode.

Sometimes, my introvert heart needs a break.

Sometimes, my heart asks for a moment, an hour, a chance to breathe.

I'm so thankful to my husband for giving me that on Saturday morning.

Not much was accomplished. I didn't use the time to clean, or write any blog posts.

I just enjoyed an overcast Saturday Farmers Market.

But it was a good time.

I found fresh produce to fill my family's tummies, a huge watermelon for the Church Potluck on Sunday, and some flowers, just to brighten up our home.

I didn't stop being mommy during that hour or two away. No, I was just as much Mommy in those moments as I am right now, while Ezra eats his lunch in his high chair next to my desk. But I think the significance of it being Meg-time was this.

It gave me a chance to breathe.

To regroup.

To give thanks for a beautiful day.

To look forward to getting back to my family.

To the ones who call me mommy.

To the one who calls me wife.


There have been times in my life where "Meg-time" was next to impossible. Where my whole heart had to be devoted to young babies. When my children have been attached to me, when my husband's work, and this country, has asked a lot of him. Seasons have past without the gifts of such Saturdays. I understand what a gift that time was. 

I treasure the moments I am given.

They truly are a gift.