Sometimes I have to pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming.

Some moments are perfect and happy tears form.

I sat in the back garden this morning watching my nearly 2-year-old run around with her infectious giggle and her beaming smile and my heart reminded me to be thankful.

Her older sisters were inside playing together, and I had a moment of inner peace.

This life, with all its chaos and its messiness, with all its drama and its fun, this is what I longed for when I was younger.

I wanted to be a mommy.

That is what I’ve been gifted.

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In days full of screaming and anxious little hearts, in times of upset and lots of noise, it can be easy to forget this is my purpose. My patience runs low and my body feels weak and sometimes I need a break.

But the reminder is always there.

I hear sisters laugh together, and it suddenly seems insignificant that they’ve left their dirty clothes all over the floor. I see a little girl holding her baby sister’s hand as she guides her down the road, and I forget the attitude of the morning that made breakfast so stressful.

I can still find joy each and every day in the smallest of things and deep down I know I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I know it would be easy to focus on the negative and there are some days when I succumb to that temptation. Some days when I nag and I moan, when I turn into the worst version of myself because I’m tired and irritable. Those are the days when I have to stop and breathe and tell myself that ultimately, there are more important things in life than the stuff I’m letting drag me down.

The bigger picture is usually the better one . . . and I sometimes need reminding.

Even if the house is messy, if tempers fray, if I’m way behind with the laundry, when I have moments of weakness and feel overwhelmed, I look for the small things that remind me to be thankful.

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I see little tiny shoes next to mine in the shoe box. Five plates being washed after dinner. I see favorite teddies in their beds, and I love you notes in mine. Little cuddles and childlike language, innocent questions and tiny fingers stroking my cheek, those are the treasures that fill up my heart.

I’ve been gifted this life with all these little blessings, and I will never take it for granted.

Do I really have these three children—these three, beautiful girls who have been entrusted into my care? Do I really get to share in their joys and their sorrows, their loud and their calm?

Not only that, I get to navigate this parenting journey with a wonderful, hard-working, humble man by my side.

I have been given so much.

And when life hands you a tragedy, a loss so painful it makes your heart physically hurt, there is still hope. A hope that can surpass all anxieties and wrap you up to make you smile again.

This life is not perfect—it was never designed to bebut I believe we have to make the best of where we are and how we are living.

We have to choose joy.

Sometimes I have to pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming.

Some moments are perfect and happy tears form.

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And sometimes that still, little voice of calm, it’s telling me to stop and drink in the here and now. I am loved and I am blessed.

Right now, that’s all I need to know.

Cat Borg

Cat is a 40-(something)-year-old Christian wife and mother of three girls. Her two greatest passions besides her family are her faith and her writing. You can find her blogging about family and parenting on her mummythought blog.