Hey there! I’m Mikala—a wife, mother of 5, family doctor, well-being advocate, and the author of Ordinary on Purpose. 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!
All tagged #progressnotperfection
“Please, God. Please. Can You please make it abundantly clear You are here?” And maybe it sounds crazy…but He did.
Is it here? Maybe here? Maybe once I get there? Or maybe if I could just have what SHE has?
Yep, I think this is the year to grow a little closer to the best version of ME I can be. And LOVE me.
Stop ‘handing it over’ then continuing to lose sleep and micromanage what you’ve placed in God’s hands.
BE PRESENT right where you are. Notice the simple, ordinary moments of your life. There is LIFE all around you. And those things are CERTAIN.
I have officially had it up to here!!!! (I never knew what moms meant by this…until now.) I have reached the point when just ONE MORE THING leaves me fumbling for answers or fighting back tears.
Why can’t we all just get along?? Why can’t anyone seem to do the right thing?? What the hell is wrong with the world????
You gave your kids the most Magical Holiday Memories you possibly could…and the gift of an unstressed, present mom who enjoyed the moment.
I wish I didn’t have to struggle so hard at ALL THE THINGS life throws my way. But the truth is I CAN do hard things. HE REMINDS ME WHO I AM. I am HIS.
There was a time in my life my husband was going to die... I thought it was supposed to be a romantic Love Story. I had no idea it would rock me to my core.
Thank goodness in the middle of all my striving and treading and spluttering and drowning, I realized we are not meant to live this life on our own.
Please God, help me be a patient mom… All too often I am impatient.
That's the ultimate goal, right? To do our very best and love them like crazy and just enjoy these fleeting Kid Years as best we can???
Nobody told me I'd want to fast-forward, pause, and rewind all within the span of about three hours.
I'm over it. We're just ordinary I guess. And I wear mom jeans with T-shirts and tennis shoes.
Why do we hold ourselves to ridiculous standards and perfect expectations?
