I’ve been around long enough to know that we all have “secret disasters.”
We can’t talk about them–because they’re not ours alone to share, or because sharing would only make things worse–so we do our best to get through them, wearing our brave faces while perhaps feeling a bit torn up inside.
Today I’d like to share the beauty that came from one of my not-so-secret disasters–with the hopes that it will help you courageously meet the challenges facing you right now.
A lot of you know that my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a few years ago. And just about every Thursday, my children and I drove an hour to visit, saying goodbye to a little part of her each week.
It was a long farewell–some moments happy, when she was fully present, and others where we couldn’t connect at all. (I’m sure you can understand…)
This last October, we said our final goodbyes, and the disaster that I thought was going to destroy me ended up doing exactly the opposite, which is why I am writing today.
Have you ever heard that when a caterpillar is inside a cocoon, it basically turns into caterpillar soup–and then completely rebuilds itself–forming a brand new creature?
I’ve loved that analogy for years and even started a “Butterfly Project” around it to encourage me to raise my sights.
In some ways, the final months and years with my mom felt like a cocooning state for both of us. She couldn’t leave her bed, and I couldn’t fully move forward–because I was subconsciously waiting for the heart-breaking ending.
But God coordinated the SWEETEST goodbye party, and combined with the tender moments of the past seven years, it changed me.
Our family moved out of state last summer, and in late September, an opportunity came for me to fly to Long Beach for my mom’s birthday. I decided to make her a rocking horse cake, like the one I thought she had made me as a little girl. But when I got to the house and flipped through the photo albums, I realized my brother Ryan had the rocking horse.
I had chosen the butterfly.
(Ahhhh! Can you see where this is going?)
So I made the cake, in a semi-state of disbelief, as I told my sisters who were working alongside me in the kitchen about my Butterfly Project. And when I finally went in to show my mom her cake, she was holding a caterpillar–a little toy my sister had bought her just prior to my visit.
It felt like a gift from above–an unspoken message that the time was coming when we could both fly.
Just two weeks later, I got a late-night call that the time for Mom’s departure had finally arrived.
With Eric’s encouragement, I flew out early the next morning to sit by her side one last time.
And here’s where it gets even sweeter–because she waited for me to get there.
My sister Susan stayed up with her throughout the night–watching her struggle to breathe and doing her very best to keep Mom comfortable. Susan later told me how she’d encouraged mom to release herself from the pain. “Mom, just go. You can go. You don’t have to suffer like this.”
But Mom waited. All night. And I got to sit by her bedside for a full 90 minutes with my siblings until her breath slowed and finally came to a stop. So sweet and so thoughtful—right until the very end. She didn’t need to stay, but she wasn’t thinking of her needs.
She lived the true spirit of motherhood–to the very end.
So how do disasters change us beautifully?
I’m guessing your experiences have been similar to mine:
Disasters help us to feel more gratitude for our Higher Power–with a lift and a light that reminds us we have not been forgotten.
They enable us to develop patience with ourselves and the often difficult, but meaningful work required to raise a strong family.
They help us to cherish the moments that are great and inspire us to create moments that are even greater.
And they provide opportunities for us to receive extra love from family and friends who can sense how deeply our hearts are aching.
When we got back from the funeral, my daughter Grace said, “I made you a watercolor and put it on your desk.”
As a little background, my mom used to tell me that her goal for heaven was to be the Lord’s doorkeeper. I always thought that was sweet–that she just wanted to hold the door for Him as He would come and go.
And when I got upstairs, I was greeted with this:
There are no words.
I know that we’ll never get to the point where we’re “done” having disasters. Some will be small, others may be more intense. But when we can see these disasters for what they really are–beautiful opportunities for transformation–we’ll welcome them with open arms.
QUESTION: Is there a “disaster” you can share that changed YOU in a beautiful way?
CHALLENGE: If you’re in the middle of one of your “secret disasters,” try focusing on how it is changing you, and welcome the beautiful process.
My oldest son has ADHD, and he has always been a very challenging child for me. There have been so many moments on a daily basis when I have felt like mothering him is beyond my abilities. In those moments where it feels like I can’t handle one more time when he ignores me and does something insane, dangerous, or both, I am trying to remember that this is shaping me as a person in a way that nothing else could have done. I have greater empathy, greater patience, greater strength because of him. I also try to remember that he also has energy levels I’d dream of having and so much determination, drive, and independence in part because of the ADHD too.
April, I’m so sorry for the loss of your mother. I have been following your journey with her for years and know how much she meant to you.
For me, the journey has been with my son, Tim, he was diagnosed with autism over 10 years ago. This has changed the course of our family’s life – the way we parent, the friends that we have, the places we go, and more.
The feelings of grief and desperation that I’ve had at times have weighed so heavily on my heart. Over the years I have changed in so many ways, appreciating each small step forward and signs of connection with my son.
I facilitate an autism support group and help other parents going through a new diagnosis or looking for autism related resources.
Beautiful inspiring words. Thank you.
Beautiful.
Thank you for sharing this inspiring story April. Your insights are beautiful. This really helped me today.
Thanks for sharing those wonderful memories.
My disaster these days is with a husband who is struggling with the truth and trustworthiness of the Bible. The Bible has been a foundation in my life, and he is finding all kinds of problems. I believe the Lord will do His work in our lives, but it is a trying time of waiting.
The Movie or the book “Case for Christ” by Lee Strobel shows his intense journey to disprove Christianity and the Bible, but this investigative journalist finally decided to believe. The movie is very engaging and the book is more intellectual but fascinating.
One of my biggest disasters was sitting in a NICU for two months after 6 years of infertility, watching my twins (who came 10 weeks early) fight for life. They both got staph infections while there and there were a couple weeks where they each had one nurse assigned only to them each day because they were so critical. I wondered if this would be my only opportunity to be a mother and watching powerlessly as they struggled to breathe was so hard I could never really even talk about it to anyone. Now that my twins are about to turn 9, I am finally sharing some of those memories with family and friends (in the midst of it, I just kept assuring myself through others as I always said things like, “Some days are good, some days are bad,” or “They say tomorrow should be better,” never really sharing with anyone my deepest fears or the emotions of seeing my babies struggling/getting spinal taps/IVs in their heads/etc.). I can now acknowledge that these early struggles made me value motherhood all the more. I never would have understood in quite the same way what a gift it is to be a mother and how those precious boys of mine (and their subsequent siblings) bless my life even when I sometimes forget amid dirty laundry and sibling rivalry.
This resonated in my heart. I often have to reflect on how the beautiful emerges from the hard so that I can stay hopeful and keep going. We have been foster parents for years and have adopted all four of our children. Our youngest son, who is now 7, is autistic with developmental delays. He has multiple, sometimes unpredictable, triggers that lead to some pretty aggressive and destructive meltdowns. It is extremely challenging, to say the least! It has been five years since he came into our home. I often think about me as a person before my son came into my life and me as a person now. Sure, these days, I am more tired, heavy-hearted, and overwhelmed. My house is messier than I would like it to be, dinner isn’t always ready, my hair isn’t always done nicely, we can’t plan as many family outings. But, today, I am much less judgmental of others, I have learned to love more purely and to feel deeper than ever, I am more confident in myself and less worried about what others think, I am more humble, I have learned to trust and rely on a loving God, I am kinder, I have a greater appreciation for all of the small things and the small successes in life, I notice people and I see their goodness, and I know what’s most important to me in life. I don’t know when my life will become “easier”, but I do know, when I pause to reflect on it, I am most grateful for this “secret disaster” and how it is stretching me and who I am becoming because of it.
In think I’m in the middle of my secret disaster so I haven’t had the perspective of time to evaluate how it is changing me. I can say that everyday I wake with the best intentions to hold true to desired actions, but then I find it all crumbling down around me. I am reminding myself that this process is a journey and there will be good days and bad days. I’m getting better at remaining calm, which I’m proud of. I’m also getting better at finding solutions. So I know there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I’m just trying to grow and learn so that my journey there is easier.
This is beautiful. I, too, believe That this life is it time for all of us to be caterpillars, waiting and Learning until he can become a butterfly. When we crawl into this cocoon, sometimes it is just a mess. But in the end, we come out stronger. My mother also passed away a year and a half ago. My step mom has dementia now, as well. I have six children and my oldest is severely disabled. But through all of this, I truly believe that I am a better person. I am stronger and kinder, more compassionate, and more grateful. I love my challenges. I can honestly say that I am thankful for trials. I am sorry for your sadness, April, but so happy that there is a happy ending. I’m so grateful for your children and that they understand where your mother is. How beautiful. Thank you for writing and for sharing all that you do for so many moms and families.
Thank you for sharing your dearest experiences with us. I love the image of each of you as caterpillars, preparing for the time when you can fly. 🙂 It was quite a journey, the gradual letting go and saying goodbye… But I love the way you are able to find JOY in the experience as a whole.
You have impacted my life for the better, April. Mind Organization for Moms has changed my life, Power of Moms Radio has provided great company to me many times as I sweep and mop or clean bathrooms, and articles like these keep me focused on the things that matter most. Thanks for being courageous enough to be who you are!!
Thank you for sharing the beautiful journey in photos of you and your mom. We all need to be reminded that the Lord Jesus will never leave or forsake us in our trials. May we all by God’s grace become more Christlike as a beautiful testimony to His faithfulness in our storms.
I’m so sorry that you had to say your final (this side of Heaven) goodbye to your mother. But I’m also so happy for you that you were able to say goodbye, and in such a beautiful way. (My father died last year, and I missed the opportunity to say goodbye to him; in fact, the last time I saw him was almost a year before he died. But that situation was full of grace too. Grace finds a way in a variety of circumstances.)
Such beautiful words and an even more beautiful analogy. My mom passed away last April and, like you, we were blessed to have one grand last Hurrah before her sweet departure later in the evening. Writing about our moms helps to keep their memories alive and inspires those who read our words. Thank you for sharing your story with us!
Five years ago I lost my niece to brain cancer, and it changed my whole family forever. One thing that impacted me was that someone made me a sympathy card. She had never met my sister or my niece, but she prayed for my family and I. I still have that card, and it’s taught me the value of a handwritten note. Fast forward 5 years, and I have a website called Colorful Encouragement, where I make greeting cards and teach others how to make them, as well. I want to help others share love through a simple card, because I know it can have a powerful impact on their life.
Wow, so wrestling right now with wanting a moment of tearfully soaking in all this post meant to me and the beauty of many of the comments, and the eager leap in my heart of “YES! I MUST share my story too!!!” Haha. Whenever I share this part of my story with a woman, it is always in an intimate, safe moment, and I always begin by explaining that it was the worst year of my life… but also the best, because of how I grew and how my relationship with God deepened as a result. I know not all of this community share my faith, but it will still be a familiar situation to many, one in which many women find it so common, they have chosen to accept it, some really prefer or like to participate, while far more women experience significant trauma, grief, and shame. It was the first time my heart had ever been broken, when I found out my husband was a pornography addict. My husband… my best friend, who had been my first love, my first kiss, my first everything…who had exchanged vows with me to forsake all others on our wedding day five years prior to this moment of impact that nearly destroyed our marriage. At the time, he was serving in the Air Force and we were stationed far from our home in the Carolinas in California, rather isolated from loved ones, and he had just left for a six-month deployment in Afghanistan. On the surface, our marriage was still “happily ever after”, but I knew something was deeply wrong and had begun to deteriorate over the past year. We had done marriage classes and a retreat prior to his deployment to no avail, because this hidden poison of pornography had never come to light. So, like you said, I marched on. I was volunteering as a leader for the spouses of my husband’s unit, and had just begun an internship program at the church we were attending. It was not a good time to fall apart! And yet, there was so much grace in this season, I truly knew that God had His eye on me, even in the tender way He revealed through a dream what my husband was going through–such a mercy, that I did not find out by discovering his pornography or catching him in the act! I knew so strongly that dream was from God that I confronted my husband shortly thereafter, during one of our usual video chats, not asking, but telling, him that I knew what was going on. And another great moment of grace, that God had been working on his heart too. My husband revealed that he had known he had to tell me, but found he didn’t know how, and couldn’t imagine putting me through the pain of that revelation at any time, but especially in this vulnerable season while we were apart. So God had allowed him this opportunity to finally admit, repent, and my husband was deeply remorseful. Of course, a mere admission and apology could not repair what felt like a chasm-causing-earthquake that had shattered the deepest foundations of love, trust, and safety in our marriage. But it was a start, a moment of hope, and while he was away fighting a physical war, we began a battle to save our marriage. It may seem overdramatic to call it that, but the moments of pain and wounding as the full extent of his struggle was exposed in the months that followed, and the constant fight to remember that my husband was not the true enemy in this–that we had to fight together for our marriage, not against one another–was a war of the soul. One that we actually felt we were losing for many months, and had nearly decided, since we didn’t have children yet and we were already separated through his deployment, to divorce, because it was just so hard… Then, another gift of extraordinary grace, although quite in disguise. The week before Christmas, my father-in-law was in grave condition resulting from a complication after an otherwise mundane kind of surgery. It was so severe, my husband was called on emergency leave to go to Atlanta, where his dad was hospitalized, potentially to say his farewells. I was on my way home to South Carolina to visit my family for the holiday, and naturally, as my husband was coming from half a world away to proximity within a few hours’ drive, I knew I would see him too. What military wife would not rejoice to be reunited with a her deployed beloved unexpectedly? And at Christmas too! Certainly, that was the picture I felt pressured to portray, although our marriage was in such a state, I dreaded what I anticipated to be a grotesque performance for our families. As I walked down the hallway of the hotel where my husband was saying and hesitantly knocked on his door, my heart was pounding and my stomach seemed to choke. I didn’t know how it was going to work or how it would feel to see my husband again. Well, I didn’t know until the door opened, and there was my husband, heart in his face and tears in his eyes, whispering “I’m so sorry. I love you, and I’m so, so sorry.” A torrent of hope, and missing, and fierce, supernatural love made the hug that followed as a I stepped into his arms a powerful, healing embrace. We experienced Immanuel, God with us, in a new, nearly tangible way that Christmas. Buoyed up with prayer, we took leaps and bounds towards renewed unity as we observed an unspoken agreement to put our marital struggles aside to focus on my husband’s dad, and revel in the miracle that we were together, after being separated in every way for months. We felt confirmation that our marriage was worth fighting for, that as hard as it had been, and as much work as there was left to do, we were going to press through. As the year turned, I was back in California with renewed hope and motivation to prepare for my husband’s official return home in a little over a month. We both found support groups for men who are sex addicts and their wives, and I continued processing and healing through sessions I began with a professional counselor. Finally, it was February, the week before Valentine’s Day, and I found myself waiting at the Sacramento airport with my husband’s commander, holding up a cheesy “Welcome Home” poster, eyes locked on an escalator leading down to the baggage claim area where we were waiting. Tan boots appeared, followed by an ABU military uniform, and at last, there was the face of my love! That silly escalator could not have moved any slower! As soon as my husband’s boots hit the floor, my feet somehow carried my jellied knees and me into his arms. A month later, we moved to a new assignment in San Antonio, Texas, almost three years to the day since we had moved to California. We still had a lot to walk through, and many more difficult discussions, but my husband worked hard for recovery and restoration of our marriage. Eventually, he had lived over 365 consecutive days in freedom without looking at pornography, and he has again since, but there have been slip-ups, twists, and turns along the way. As my husband has fought for recovery, little by little, my trust of him and in our relationship has been redeemed. There in San Antonio, we finally sensed such a level of healing in our marriage and confidence in its restored foundation that in February 2014, our first daughter was born. She is a living monument of hope and faith in the Lord’s restoration of our marriage. As these last few years have passed, I have seen one prayer after another answered, and we returned home to South Carolina after my husband’s service commitmented in the Air Force ended in 2015. While life has brought us many mountains and valleys–parents’ addictions and chronic illnesses, losing loved ones, seeing little ones suffer various diagnoses–no other experience has changed me quite the way that the year of this disaster in our marriage during my husband’s deployment did. During a season when I felt so alone in that heartache, not knowing where to turn, I went from just knowing about God, to really knowing Him. I learned that He doesn’t just see what I’m going through, He’s right there with me. His Word became my daily, life-sustaining bread. Prayer was as essential as breathing. Worship, oh those intimate, intentional times of worship, offering my sacrifices of praise, were pools of refreshing, soul-quenching, life-giving water. After many years of professing faith, it was the most vulnerable place of my life to realize how much I truly needed God and His intervention in my life, and to come to Him with my questions of why, my anger, my hurt, and my waiting to see where His hand was at work. And then, the love I sensed from God day after day through that season allowed me to develop a tender and compassionate kind of strength, rather than a hard and bitter heart, which has sustained me through the challenges we’ve been through since. Along with that strength has come a new kind of vision, to see through the facade of leadership roles and the smooth surface of smiles and know how true it is that anyone could be have a personal battle the public will never see, and to give every person, no matter how strong, how independent, how together–or how much of a mess– they seem, compassion, understanding, permission to be human. And also, I have a deep understanding now of the wrecked lives behind the headlines of sexual brokenness through last fall, and pray that the families affected can find the same healing and peace we have. There is so much hope, even in those unimaginable circumstances. Hope that I am only too intent to share, because it is so strong. God gives us beauty for ashes, if we will let Him.
Oh, this story is SO beautiful!! Thank you for sharing this and making it available to the moms here at Power of Moms. I send a huge, huge hug!!!!
<3
2 years ago February 10th is when my life changing disaster happened. I had every book we owned (which was a lot) piled in the living room and was looking for a specific one to begin reading aloud to our 7 children the next day. I had been dealing with an annoying dull headache for a couple of days, but in a moment that dull pain became excruciating -it felt like a strong hand gripping the neck near the base of my head. I blacked out & woke up in the ER unable to move any part of me or speak. My head was held in place with pillows so it didn’t flop everywhere. (I’m only in my 30s, so it had never occurred to me that I may not be able to rely on my own strength and health because I have always tried to be fit.) I remained in the hospital in this condition for 3 weeks. Then slowly I was able to slightly move a finger or a toe, and my speech was given back to me incrementally. At this point the medical personnel began therapies and I could begin having food by mouth again, etc. My children (to include my 3 month old baby girl) were split up and staying in other homes for nearly three months before I could go home and continue my recovery there. Now I am back to fully functional and so thankful for the little things that I can do, the conversation I can have with my family and friends, walking,dressing and feeding myself, hugging a child, holding a hand – so much to be positive about . My husband– who owns and runs his own business– stayed with me for my whole stay in the hospital and therapy center. We took a huge hit financially and otherwise, and though there are still no answers as to why this event occurred or if it will happen again, I know it has totally changed my marriage for the better and my outlook forever. God is good.
Oh wow RG, that is so terrifying and traumatic! Praise God for your complete recovery.
This was a truly beautiful post. I love how you were able to see the Hand from Above guiding this difficult situation and uplifting you.
My grandmother, a strong Moroccan “Superwoman”, passed away a month ago. As a girl, my family lived close-by to her and my grandfather, and they were our second parents! I am now a wife and mother to five in a far-off country and was unable to leave my kids to attend the funeral. I felt so estranged from my grandmother- what a terrible granddaughter I was not to be able to go to her funeral! But lo and behold, my husband took me out to dinner a few days after her passing, and, on a whim, I decided to try out a new item on the menu- a sour Moroocan soup! I’m telling you, it was my grandmother’s signature soup that I had not tasted in 15 years due to the fact that I live so far away. I felt like G-d had sent me this soup to comfort me and show me that He was with me during this difficult situation.
My mother passed away suddenly 7 months ago. In a moment there was an unalterable gravitational shift for my whole family. The last 7 months have been full of a lot of firsts. My first birthday without Mom, first time stepping into the beautiful state of Virginia where I was raised and feeling sad and anxious, because Mom wasn’t there. My first holiday season without Mom to call and ask for certain recipes, or to send her pictures of my kids in their Halloween costumes, or to laugh with watching my nieces and nephews in a Christmas Eve nativity program. We were in awe at the outreach we received from people after my mother died. People really are amazing. But at the end of the day, when I forget for a moment and think, “I should call Mom!” I have to go through my own silent internal monologue, “She’s gone. She knows somehow, but she’s not here.” However, this experience has taught me that beauty really is traded for ashes. I watched each of my siblings get up before me to say a few words at my mother’s funeral, each of them showing the dimples we all inherited from Mom. We carry on her legacy and their is great beauty in that privilege. A religious leader named Neal A. Maxwell once said in reference to trials that come our way, “Rather than simply passing through these things, they must pass through us…in ways which sanctify [us].” I have felt that process taking place in the last 7 months, but I had to make space for it. To those in similar circumstances, I encourage you to hold on. Step outside of yourself and take a birds eye view and find the places where beauty has been traded for the ashes. It’s there for the viewing.
My son was diagnosed with a brain tumor when he was 9. Thankfully his treatment was successful and he’s now a happy and healthy 13 year old. While it was a terrifying experience, it has helped our family become a lot more sensitive to the needs of those around us. My husband and I are more patient with our children and we’re better listeners. We are also more focused on strengthening family relationships and making memories.
Wow. What amazing women you all are. I feel that the main thing I’ve learned from my struggle is that it doesn’t need to be a secret. It used to be my secret disaster. My child was diagnosed with autism 7 years ago. She was extremely difficult and aggressive. I felt so alone and isolated. This wasn’t the little girl I was planning on. It was a major game-changer for all of us. I felt ashamed and so heartbroken due to the feelings I was harboring because of it. When I found there were others willing to share, I felt it gave me permission to do the same. Their bravery helped me be brave and like them, help others along their path. When I opened myself up to those I could trust and chose to be authentic and own my trial, it changed me, those around me and our relationships were incredibly deepened. I looked around and assumed that most everyone else wasn’t dealing with these kind of feelings so I kept it to myself for far too long. I became a bit resentful as well because I was angry that others seemed to be enjoying life the way I so wanted to. I was so wrong to do this. Everyone’s disaster(s) comes in a different package but we have so much to learn from each other. We are here to help each other along. If we keep things secret, we will be missing out on so much of the goodness that comes from hardship. Sharing creates healing. Sometimes it’s difficult to want to be vulnerable, mist definitely. I think about those who I aspire to be like and the individuals that always come to mind are those who have overcome or are trying their best to get through life with a smile. The “humans”?Not those who come across looking perfect or like they have it all together. Those people don’t exist and it’s wrong of me to think they do. People want someone that is genuine and who they can relate with. Thank you for being these kind of people. You have lifted my spirits today because you chose to share
Things so close to your heart.
The words “secret disaster” hit somewhere deep inside my heart. I truly believe my mom is a hoarder. I have followed your sweet journey over the years of all the visits you wrote about when you went to see your mom. It always made me realize that I was also slowly losing my mom but to growing clutter crowding my family out of her life. This year the clutter has crept into the family room and kitchen areas which means she can no longer host us in her home for holidays or even regular visits. The guest room my children used to enjoy sleepovers with cousins has long ago been over taken by craft supplies, wrapping paper & shopping bags filled with clothes & house decor. Each year key living space looks more like a storage unit and we are pushed further away. I have tried everything I know to encourage her to reclaim her life. Over the years, I have spent days upon days purging & organizing with her but it comes back worse than before. I finally had to let it go because it was keeping me from the needs of my own family and causing feelings of anger in me. Satan must be so thrilled since he loves to keep us isolated in the shadow of a secret. Thank you for the words to describe my ongoing loss: secret disaster. As you mentioned, it isn’t my secret to share so I hardly even tell my small bible study group because my mom lives in town and would be horrified if her secret got out. Lately, my biggest struggle is over analyzing if I have hoarding tendencies. My sister has shared this same fear and we both take it out on our families with house rules like insisting no junk mail on counter top etc. Balance is what I seek and pray we all can reach it and find peace in any secret disaster we are facing. Blessings to all the brave moms out there who are loving through the trial.
Sending you huge hugs!! I’m sure you’ve learned that “hoarding” isn’t typically about the stuff…it’s usually about something going on that’s much deeper. I don’t know if your mom is at a point where she is looking for help at all, but just two resources that might be helpful:
(1) Julie Morgenstern recorded a podcast with me about all the stuff we want to keep. (Her book SHED is great…) The podcast is here: http://learndobecome.com/episode19/
(2) My husband and I teach a free class that has helped a LOT of people struggling with hoarding. You can see it here: http://learndobecome.com/step
Either way, just sending my love. I know how difficult it is to watch a loved one struggle. So glad she has you!
xoxo
Thanks, again, April for another post that has touched and lifted me so much. This perspective helps give me the strength to continue through my own challenges. I also loved reading through the comments and stories shared.
I’m so glad this was helpful for you, Heidi! How ARE you? Your new baby is turning one soon, right? I know you have a lot on your plate and I am so glad you are here in the Power of Moms (and LearnDoBecome) community. xoxo
I am good. 🙂 My baby is 8 months and on the go to keep up with his big brothers. Life is a mix of good and challenging. My kids were all sick this week so more of the challenging but getting better.