Gifts for Mom, Grandparents, Besties and YOU🎄 ➔

It’s quiet. Sunday morning. Early. Damp, gray clouds settled in overnight smothering the sun’s scheduled appearance. Our part of the world remains dark even at 7:15. My husband and I drink our coffee nearly silently. We hold our mugs the same way. Lacing our fingers around the cup, enjoying the heat on our hands, keeping it close to our face and breathing in the steam and aroma. We only need a towel to cover our heads as if we’re nursing a head cold with java. For me, that first sip feels like a warm bath for my soul. A moment to savor and forget about the pressure of being a parent. The headache of being an adult.

We quietly discuss the day. Despite our heavy eyelids and between our yawns, we whisper ideas and plans to get us out of our messy problems. We’re not looking at each other. Both of us turning inward, trying to understand why so much has happened in the first month of the new year. On other days, we’ve encouraged one another by suggesting that we’re getting the tough stuff over with at the top of the year. Our bumps in the road are the gears getting cranked up for better months ahead. Not this morning. He shakes his head. He’s scratched an idea without even mentioning what it was. He sees past his reflection in the window against a dark sky. I stare into the cup, searching for signs in the creamer as if there were tea leaves.

We’ve faced some challenges. A few of them rather ordinary and the ones that most everyone faces. We take a swing at our problems and as the analogy goes, sometimes the bat meets the ball and we deflect the issue before it begins. Home run. We miss some, too, but we keep playing. Someday hoping to sprint around the bases, seeing the crowd out of their seats cheering for us. The overcomers. But then I remember, the crowd has their own problems. Their legs like pistons, hammering across their competitive field. Their eyes have years of practice watching the ball. Everyone playing their own game. Running their own race. Maybe I should cheer for them instead.

Our teenagers will not see the sun burning off the dismal fog on this gray morning. Their heads deep in covers and exhaustion, accepting the rest they need. We adults do not rest as we should. We sit across from one another wondering, without asking, how to get it all done. How to make it happen. How to see past the gray, dreary now and break free from the clouds into brilliant sunlight like airplanes do.

I decided that while he’s pouring my second cup, I can put in a load of towels. I walk into the laundry room, flip on the light and realize that the spring bar that holds the hangers has disappeared behind the washer and dryer and taken our entire collection of hangers with it. At first, I’m not sure what happened. Then I’m stunned that no one heard what was certainly a loud crash. When did it fall? I did three loads yesterday and everything was normal. Now as I lean over the lid, I stare at a tangle of wires, plastic and dust and lint between the wall and white appliances.

I hear my husband pass through the kitchen and approach me. As I turn to face him, he offers my replenished coffee mug. The man I’ve been married to for almost 18 years is unaware that I’ve just discovered chaos in the laundry room. I frown at him and the coffee he’s holding.


 “Did you hear anything last night? A loud, crashing sound? Yesterday afternoon maybe?”

 “You know I’ll sleep through anything. But your ears are the same as bats. What didn’t we hear?”

I turn to the side and allow him to pass. I sarcastically exaggerate the extension of my arm welcoming him to the small laundry room. My frown more defined as I bow. He steps closer and discovers the missing bar and hangers. He hands me the coffee cup and leans over the washer.

“When did this fall?”

See, this is what happens. We, adults, keep piling on so much stuff, then act surprised when it all comes down around us. We, like that spring bar, are not designed to carry that much load. Some load, yes. The amount we ordinary humans try to carry, no. We pile on the hangers, the problems of the day, month, year because it’s easy. In an attempt to be organized, we put the extra hangers where the extra hangers go. We sort the problems into family, life, and business and hang each one on a different bar. But how many hangers do we need? 

When do we stop adding hangers to our life because we already have too many?

We hang onto hangers because it’s easy. It’s a hang-up.

A few would argue that you don’t ask for more hangers. You just end up with them. True. But we have to know when to give them away. Set them down. Release them. Send them love and walk away.

*I’m not really talking about hangers.*

The universe. My precious God is telling me something and I want to share it with you.

Sometimes things have to fall apart in our life so we can rebuild, reorganize and prioritize what’s going back. A relationship? A responsibility? Maybe forgiveness?

We continue to face the same problems until we learn the lesson and move on. Our higher power cannot be bluffed. If we haven’t really learned it, it’ll give us an opportunity to teach us again. But here’s the great thing: I believe our angels give clues, warnings and heads-up whispers when we least expect it.

The other day, I was putting away clothes in the closet. I realized there were too many empty hangers because of all their wires were jutting out between the clothes. I started yanking them out. One by one I tossed them. Metal hitting a combination of metal and plastic, creating a tangled pile of mess on the floor of our bedroom closet. I straightened clothes and tugged empty hangers until there were only hangers with clothes on them. I felt a moment of satisfaction that the closet had been rid of useless, empty hangers.

I reorganized my mess. But it’s still a mess.

The message that I received (even now while I’m typing) is so clear that I’m not sure how I missed it when it happened. Sort of like the loud, crashing sound our family missed when the spring bar succumbed to the weight of too many hangers.

First, the image of the pile of hangers in the closet floor. A tangled mess of too much. Just like the ones between the wall and the washer this morning. Still too much. And, when I straightened the clothes in the closet, I noticed that the shelving was pulling out from the drywall. Barely noticeable, but thinking of it now, a clear warning.

I’m asking myself harder questions. Am I holding onto the wrong things afraid to let go of what I know in exchange for what may be? I’m still in the gray, dreary part of the morning. Worrying and planning and packing more and more stuff instead of taking the flight past the clouds into the brilliant sunlight.

Just like life. 

When your hangers fall.

“What happened?” they will ask. 

It was all just too much.

Originally published on the author’s blog

If you liked this, you'll love our new book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available for pre-order now!

Pre-Order Now

Eleanor Howard

I've been married 18 years. I'm a mom of a 16-year-old son and a 15-year-old daughter. I am a writer and a bookkeeper. My brain is equally divided on right brain/left brain skills. I've worked in some form of Media & Communications almost my entire working career but Radio Broadcasting gave me roots. I write for Chattanooga Moms Blog and have done three book reviews for Southern Lit Alliance.

You’re Never Alone in the Trenches of Motherhood

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding infant, color photo

This one goes out to all the mamas in the trenches. To the mamas in the kitchen stirring dinner with a baby on their hip. To the ones waking up an hour earlier than the rest of the house to pump after waking up countless times throughout the night to attend to both your toddler and baby. The ones who must take care of business from lobbies, bathroom floors, lunch breaks, and the carpool line. To the mamas who pass on their own birthday presents so their kid’s medical bills can be covered. RELATED: This is the Sacrifice of Motherhood...

Keep Reading

When You Stop Running into My Arms, I Pray You Run to Jesus

In: Faith, Motherhood
Child and mother walking on beach in sunlight

I love seeing the light in my little girl’s eyes when I pick her up from school at the end of the day. Her eyes open wide, and she runs to me loudly saying, “Mommy!” for all to hear. I pick her up and give her a big hug and kiss on her cheek. She smiles ear to ear and knows she is loved and adored. She feels safe in my arms, and I pray that never changes. I want to always be her biggest cheerleader and greatest fan–holding the streamers on the sidelines in shades of brilliant gold encouraging...

Keep Reading

Praying For Your Kids is Holy Work of Motherhood

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mom hugging daughter by bed with open Bible

While excavating Mount Masada in Israel, archeologists discovered something extraordinary . . . a date palm seed. It might not seem like much (especially if you’re like me and totally expected it to be a new dinosaur or something), but this particular seed sat dormant in the dry desert soil for almost 2,000 years. Scientists ended up finding several more seeds like it throughout the Judean desert, and with a little TLC, they were able to sprout not just one but six of them. Six date palm trees, now bearing fruit that hasn’t been seen in two millennia. Incredible, right?...

Keep Reading

Choose to Be a Mother, Not a Martyr

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding baby, black-and-white photo

There is a trend in motherhood right now . . . maybe it’s happened for a long time, but now since I am a mom, I am experiencing it: this idea that everything we do as moms makes us a martyr. And honestly, I am guilty here more times than I’m not. RELATED: You’re a Mother, Not a Martyr We have these inner, silent dialogues between us and our husbands, parents, in-laws, and friends. Things we say and think, but they never hear. They compound on each other in the hallways of our hearts before bitterness creeps in without us...

Keep Reading

Motherhood Reminds Me How Much I Need Jesus

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding baby in nursery, color photo

Parenting is not only about the work it takes to raise up a child, but it’s also about continuing the work of being raised in Christ. Stripping back our innermost layers of selfishness and laying our pride exposed. Seeing ourselves as the center of our own personal schedule is no longer an option. Feeling like we have power over anything quickly vanishes into thin air. Parenthood pushes us to surrender and accept God’s sovereign control. Parenting sanctifies us.  Parenting shows us our sinful attitudes. When plans are ruined, when another blowout spoils the perfect outfit you chose, when your toddler...

Keep Reading

When Did I Become Such an Angry Mom?

In: Faith, Motherhood
Woman with head in her hands

My oldest children and I had just navigated a tabletop board game. My son lost. My daughter won. I also lost. She’s four. For the record, I was trying my best. We were all putting the game away together when my son grabbed my daughter by the face and yelled, “IT DOESN’T MATTER ANYWAY BECAUSE YOUR BREATH STINKS!” And then, Mount St. Meredith erupted. I (not so gently) removed him from the situation and (not so calmly) insisted that he . . . brush his own teeth. Yep. For the record, I was trying my best. RELATED: Mom Anger: Taming...

Keep Reading

Angel Babies are Heaven’s Gatekeepers

In: Faith, Grief, Loss
Mother and baby silhouette

I never seemed to have the right words. I didn’t have the right words at four years old when my parents lost my 11-month-old brother, and I never seemed to have the right words as I watched family members and close friends lose both the new life growing within their wombs and the beautiful, precious life resting in their weary arms. So, I did what I thought would offer the most comfort. I simply tried to show up and be there the best I could. I shopped for their favorite treats. I dropped meals off on front porches and toys...

Keep Reading

Secondary Infertility Took Me By Surprise

In: Baby, Faith, Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Mother holding toddler by open door

Selfish. Unfair. Guilt stricken. Shameful. Those were just a few of the words that regularly stabbed my lamenting heart as I longed for a second child. Yes, I was grateful for my healthy, beautiful boy who made my dream of motherhood come true, but why did I not feel complete—was he not enough? Was I doing this motherhood thing all wrong and didn’t deserve a second child? Why did I long to give him a sibling so badly knowing millions were aching for their first—how could I be so insensitive? So many questions, so many buts and so many whys....

Keep Reading

So God Made a Farm Mom

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Family walking on farm road at sunset

One day, God looked down at all the fields, barns, pastures, and farmers and knew He needed someone to take care of all the families on the land. He knew it had to be someone confident in herself to see that the farm doesn’t come first, even when it sometimes feels like it does. He knew the farm needed someone who understands her role is important, too—especially during the seasons of motherhood when she’s not out driving a tractor. Someone proud to stand by her farmer’s side.  So God made a farm mom. God knew farm kids would need someone...

Keep Reading

Even If It Doesn’t Feel like It, God Is Holding You

In: Faith
Woman sitting against tree outside

Sweet friend,  When you’re sitting in that doctor’s office, waiting to find out what is wrong, I know you’re scared. I wish I could come and sit down beside you, hold your hand, and reassure you that it’s going to be okay. No matter what news she tells you, it’s going to be okay.  Your world might change in an instant. I know there are so many feelings swirling inside you and that you’re fighting back the tears, but it’s going to be okay.  Even if it doesn’t feel like it, God is holding you. He knows exactly what’s going...

Keep Reading