Hey there! I’m Mikala—a family doctor, wife, mother of 5, well-being advocate, and author of the books Ordinary on Purpose and Everything I Wish I Could Tell You About Midlife. Each month my writing reaches millions of women, but I am thrilled to be connecting with YOU. I’m truly grateful to have you here!
Me. Family. Good friends. Connection. Real food. Nature. Pets. Comfortable footwear. Fresh baked bread. My tattered bible while soaking in a warm tub before bed.
Ask your family what they love most and give yourself the gift of a beautiful Christmas season by doing just the few things they feel matter most.
If you feel like you are failing your child, I have a story for you.
I remember that I am not wired to carry the weight of the world. It isn’t fair.
“Please, God. Please. Can You please make it abundantly clear You are here?” And maybe it sounds crazy…but He did.
This is how I want to live the rest of my days—listening to my body. Moving her and feeding her and caring for her. Stopping whenever I need a rest. Noticing other people and flowers and blue skies and sunshine and dogs. Simply marveling at the world.
THIS it seems, is life. And ever-so-slowly I am beginning to understand that contentment is simply our best attempt at the beautiful ordinary living of it.
And showing up to this mess and noise through exhaustion (and sometimes tears) is part of raising a beautiful family!!
Your kids need a mom who laughs and cries and yells and dances and forgives and prays and hugs and loves. And LIVES!!
It is perfectly okay to admit this change is hard on my momma heart. It’s okay that it feels necessary to grieve.
None of it feels shiny! And it certainly isn’t perfect, but it IS beautiful.
He’s practically grown. And yet, he’s the same boy I’ve always known.
This is the beautiful, bittersweet ache of motherhood—every day we hold on and we let go. And our hearts simply grow.
That little boy you always knew is right there…and somehow this beautiful new person is emerging too.
To me, that’s where we really LIVE this lovely little thing called life.
I walked and talked and cried as God cast long shadows through the golden light spreading across the dry grass and the bare tree branches against the early evening sky.
Sometimes I stare across the room at him when he doesn’t know I’m watching and think, ‘When exactly did he GROW UP?’
It definitely isn’t glamorous, and I will probably spend the entirety of most days wondering if I am doing anything right. Nonetheless, I am delighted by my life.
