As we start, let me get some things out of the way. I have no desire to write about myself. There are far more interesting and useful things to be said. But, as soon as I turn the tap on and the words start pouring, assumptions are likely to be made. Someone will ask, “where do you find the time?”. Given my readers are probably in the thick of the very early years of mothering, I am sketching an answer, lest you be discouraged.

When I had two very young children, I started writing a blog for Christian women. I let that go a couple of years later when my fourth child was born. Raising an increasing number of children and being hospitable meant there was no time left for publishing anything I wrote. Writing for an audience was incompatible with the other things Jesus had made plain for me to do. And that’s exactly as it should have been. I am so glad I made the decision to focus on doing the work instead of writing about the work. I don’t think I could have done both well in those years. God kindly added two more sons after that, so things didn’t get quieter. I did keep writing though (it’s something I do, like walking and talking); brief thoughts, noted when I could.

Since then, the average age of our six children has gone up. The work is different now. They all contribute far more than they depend. I rarely need to do the dishes or the laundry these days. Three of our kids can cook a meal when it’s needed. My seven year old often announces, “I feel so sorry for people who have no children. They have no one to do all the jobs!”. He doesn’t remember the hard slog days when the children were all young, generating a lot of labour and doing none. My hardest days were mostly done by the time he was born. Today’s mothering is still hard work (probably more concentrated because of our choice to home educate) but it is a different kind of work from those early years.

A maturing household means writing with intention has become a part of my routine again; the kind of writing where you hold onto a thought and run with it as far as it will stretch, for as long as you can bear (the kind of thinking which gets rather pockmarked with pregnancies, breastfeeding and helping a very many very young persons learn to regulate themselves). Faithfulness a few years ago meant less writing. Faithfulness now means more.

I don’t write when the kids are awake, because it’s hard to parent when you’re mentally somewhere else. These days, since I don’t need to get up overnight, I wake up early and write while the house is still. This is when I give in to those long, sustained thoughts. It’s mostly never long enough (as far as my own appetite goes), but done steadily, it adds up. Once breakfast starts, the writing box is closed until the following morning. Early mornings are for thinking and words, silent except for the birds and frogs. But in daylight, the hours move fast, with a lot on the table and a lot falling off the edges.

The serenity of edited, crafted words does not come from a serene, crafted life. The words are leading the way—setting the direction for where I pray the life goes. The writing, the figuring out what I think, is still somedays a long way ahead of the doing. I pray, and labour toward a more integrated way, a consistency between what I believe is good and what I do at 3pm when I am flat tired. It still holds that my own weakness doesn’t change what God says is good. He is merciful in the provisions and the gaps.

These small, steady morning allocations add up. I have a book’s worth of content ready to leak out, bit by bit across the next year. It’s a sustained attempt to understand and do well in Christian motherhood. A long thought served in small doses.

I hope this helps you not think more of me than you ought. In fact, I’d rather you don’t think of me at all. Let’s set our sights on getting better settled in the reality around us and the Lord who put us there. May God provide in what’s ahead as he always has in what has gone before.