The Hands Free Revolution page was hacked, but now the issue is resolved

light will outshine darkness

UPDATE:  Over the last 24 hours my page was taken over by hackers, and I was shut out as the page administrator unable to do anything to stop them. This amazing community came to aid and my defense in a way that I will never forget. Thank you for knowing my heart would never willingly allow this to happen and post the horrific things that were seen here. Thank you for reporting the images to Facebook and for sharing my blog post asking for help to get my page back. This community, as well as many fellow bloggers and personal friends stepped up to show these sabotagers that GOODNESS prevails. While I hope that my administrator status is back for good, please know that if you see anything out of the ordinary from what I normally post, please report the vile content see the steps outlined at the bottom of this post.

I hope to get back to my regular schedule of positivity and hope tomorrow on The Hands Free Revolution FB page. You are the most wonderful community and I am blessed to walk the Hands Free journey with you. Let us continue to focus on the good.

“I’ve always believed the light can outshine the darkness.
I’ve always believed that goodness will prevail.
But sometimes in the face of adversity, a need a little reminding.
Thank you for reminding me.
I shall not ever forget.”
-Rachel Macy Stafford


Original post:

My friends, I have been locked out as administrator of The Hands Free Revolution Facebook page. The hackers have been posting vile and offensive material. I am deeply sorry if you have been subjected to this in your newsfeed on Facebook. You can help me GREATLY by doing one or both of the following to report the problem:

1. Click this link and report that The Hands Free Revolution page has been hacked.

2. Go to the page and hover over the top right corner of the offensive post for the drop down carrot to show
then click on “I don’t like this post”
A pop up will come up – click on: “It’s Spam”
On the next window click on: “Their account is hacked”
That will report it.

I am so grateful to all of you who have written to me personally to let me know about the situation. Thank you for standing by me as I try to regain control of my Facebook fan page so I can continue spreading messages of positivity and hope!

A Daily Goal with Life-Changing Results

I hope after spending an hour … a day … a lifetime in my presence, I leave your heart fuller, your smile wider, your spirit stronger your future brighter than you could have ever imagined by yourself.   -Rachel Macy Stafford

I hope after spending an hour … a day … a lifetime in my presence,
I leave your heart fuller,
your smile wider,
your spirit stronger
your future brighter
than you could have ever imagined by yourself.
-Rachel Macy Stafford

*name & story have been used with permission

A little over four years ago I started my Hands Free journey to let go of distraction and grasp the moments that mattered. It became my daily practice to write down the little moments of meaningful connection that I would’ve missed had I remained tethered to my devices, pressures, and regrets. What I experienced during my designated Hands Free pockets of time was so powerful I knew it was meant to be shared. I started publishing my daily Hands Free successes and failures on a blog. This helped me stay accountable to my goal—to live more and love more in the precious time that I’d been given. But there was more. My willingness to share my story was unexpectedly reciprocated. Each day for the past four years, I’ve heard from people I do not know. But they tell me their stories and inspire me in ways I could not be inspired alone.

Recently I opened my inbox to this:

“I have you to thank for the light bulb that lit up inside of me that turned into a flaming inferno of wanting to connect with my children. I have you to thank for the belly laugh (the best laugh that I have had with my oldest in years) that I would have missed had I not been in a ‘Hands Free Zone’ that I’ve designated and stuck to. I have you to thank for the wall in my kitchen (which is against my obsessive compulsive nature) that I have posted blog entries and favorite quotes from your book. This wall is what I look at when my baby is crying so loudly that I want to rip my hair out—your words are the caution cones that tell me to slow down and embrace my screaming baby and laugh. I have you to thank for my life, my children’s lives, and the amazing mom that I never knew I could become to them. I have you to thank for raising me from the dead; for that I will be eternally grateful. Thank you for saving me.”


This message was written by a single, full-time working student/mother. I could see her in her kitchen. Her eyes weary from lack of sleep … baby food stains on the front of her shirt … her older child’s homework splayed across the counter along with bills and school reminder notes. I could see her trying … trying … trying. I did not know this woman, but I adored her.

Attached to the e-mail message was Fallon’s completed assignment for her psychology class. It was a short description of her fall semester goal: Keep Things Simple. To her this meant trying to avoid “overwhelm” which she knew had a negative impact on her mood, her progress, her sleep and of course, her children. “Keep Things Simple means not sweating the small stuff, getting tasks completed in a timely manner, not over exaggerating, and eliminating unnecessary stress to enjoy my life to the fullest,” she wrote.

Fallon listed several strategies that would help her reach her goal. First, her Inspiration Wall filled with meaningful quotes and artwork by her children would act as a visual reminder to “slow down and not miss life.” Second, a daily planner neatly organized and color coded would enable her to keep track of appointments, assignments, financial responsibilities, and family needs. Third, she designated “Hands Free Zones” around the house and during certain times of day that would be device free. Lastly, she placed two open books on her kitchen table with pens and highlighters. “The Bible and a book that my older son bought me for my birthday this year, Hands Free Mama. These two books are food to my soul, reminding me to slow down and not miss my life,” she’d written to her psychology professor.

I did not know this woman, but yet I felt as if I did. Fallon’s steps toward a more present, gratitude-filled, and simpler way of life sounded an awful like my own when I started my journey. I wanted more than anything to see this brave, loving, and hard-working mother succeed. And because one of my purposes in life is to encourage others, I wrote her back with words of affirmation and support. I also sent her a few more signs for her Inspiration Wall and a bracelet because hers had faded from constant wear and bath time submersion.

Over a span of several weeks, Fallon and I corresponded. We both felt we were connected for a reason. During the day, I often found myself wondering how she was doing. I most wondered if she was receiving any signs of confirmation – signs that she was on the right track – like loving smiles, unexpected tender words, “Sunset Moments” that had been vital to fueling me forward on my own journey.

The other day I reached out to check on her. Much to my delight she said her older child was sharing more information with her than he used to be too shy to bring up. Instead of “I don’t know” she was being provided with voluntary information about friends, teachers, and what interested him at the moment. Fallon also noticed he was asking her to engage in activities with him that required time and presence. They’d recently set out twenty plastic cups, filled them with water, and marked them with a point value. The two of them laughed and bonded while tossing a badminton piece into the cups over and over. Due to her newfound availability, this boy (who used to race off to the television) was now inviting her to join in activities with him.

The results of Fallon’s intentional presence were not as obvious with the ten-month old baby, but there was definitely a notable difference. “I am slowing down to show him flowers and plants and watching his face as he discovers new things. He will look at me and talk in baby language with his eyebrows raised, and I can tell he is really telling me something serious. More than anything though, I am remembering the time I am present with him—like when I stopped in the middle of cleaning the kitchen to dance and sing, his little face happy and mesmerized by this little moment with his mama. Being able to remember these moments is my greatest gift,” Fallon said.

I could relate. I could remember. One of the most reinforcing results of giving my undivided attention to my loved ones was the peace that settled over my frantic mind and productivity-driven soul. Never in my life had I ever felt like I was right where I was supposed to be until I gave myself permission to Be Where You Are.

be where you are #HFM

I vividly remember one particular evening in the beginning stages of my journey when I gave myself permission to stop thinking and stop moving—to be fully available to take that moment in.

Let’s just be here. I thought to myself that night as I tucked my older daughter Natalie into bed. I’d been reading bedtime stories to her for many years, but my mind was always somewhere else. I was always eager to close her bedroom door. But my newfound awareness on my Hands Free journey motivated me to want to Be All There.

“There’s no way you can do it,” my inner critic scoffed at such a lofty goal. “You’re Queen Multi-Tasker. You are a hurrier, a checker off-er, a ‘why do it later when you can do it now’ person through and through. You are a moving target—even illness cannot stop you!”

But love could. Love could stop me.

I knew I was not a patient, Take Your Time Person. I was always thinking ahead and experienced guilt when I felt like I was being “unproductive.” But all hope was not lost. I could fake it. I could act like a Take Your Time Person. I could do it for my child.

I searched my memory bank for a person who made me feel like I was the only person who mattered when I was in her company. Instantly I thought of my second grade teacher who would allow me to read my multi-page stories to her. Ms. Paluska would tuck her hand beneath her chin like she actually enjoyed this time with me. She would nod enthusiastically. She would smile as she listened. There could have been a classroom of twenty-five second graders going nuts behind her but you would’ve never known. I was the only one in her world during those moments.

And now there I was, laying next to my child, wanting so badly to give her my full presence. I was not a patient person, but I would act one. I could act like Ms. Paluska.

For the first time in a very long time, I did not think about the dishes in the sink … or the messages in the inbox … or the trash needing to go curbside … or the ache in my hip in need of an ice pack. “Let’s just think about the little girl in need of a little time with her mom,” I said to myself.

I focused on Natalie’s sun-kissed hair falling across her cheek, the way her pillow smelled like Suave shampoo, and the way my breath steadied in time with hers.

And when she noticed I wasn’t in a hurry to leave, she talked. And I talked. And then ten minutes or twelve minutes, it didn’t really matter. I stopped watching the clock. I shut her door feeling calm, content, and connected to my child and my own heart. I vowed to do it again the next night. For a handful of minutes each night, I could Be All There.

It wasn’t always easy. Sometimes Natalie would say “stay” and it took every ounce of strength in my body to oblige. That is when I would count. I would count to 50 or 100 in my head. And every time I mustered up that little extra time, Natalie would say something important, funny, or simply whisper, “I love you.” I would be thankful I stayed. I would be thankful I did not miss it.

Just the other night, out of the blue, Natalie said, “I like the way you take your time putting me to bed.”

I actually looked over my shoulder. She couldn’t be talking to me, I thought. “Take your time” were words that had nothing to do with me.

Well … they didn’t used to.

But I guess they do now.

I had to fake being a Take Your Time Person, but eventually that is who I’ve become, at least to this little girl at tuck-in time. And does it really matter how I got to this place? Does it really matter how you or I get to the place we want to be? Whether it’s signs plastered on your walls, books opened on the bedside table, strings tied around your pinkie, promises written in ballpoint pen, or the best acting you’ve ever done in your life, these are all ways of getting where you want to go and becoming who you want to be.

Because in the end, those on the other side of your undivided presence feel what you want them to feel. Important. Loved. Heard. Those on the receiving end of your loving presence are left better than they were before. And isn’t that the ultimate goal? I think so.

be where you are 3 #HFM

The Presence Pledge*

I hope after spending an hour … a day … a lifetime in my presence,
I leave your heart fuller,
your smile wider,
your spirit stronger
your future brighter
than you could have ever imagined by yourself.

© Rachel Macy Stafford 2014

 *The Presence Pledge is now available in two styles 


Like Fallon, posting signs around my house to slow down for love and silence my inner bully were vital to my Hands Free transformation. Sayings like, “XO Before You Go” and “Only Love Today” that I once wrote in black Sharpie are now available as beautiful prints. The Presence Pledge was recently created in gold foil and sea foam green due to your many heartfelt requests. I extend a huge thank you to my sister-in-law, Stacie, for being the amazing force behind the Hands Free Shop. I write the words and she brings these tangible reminders to life and to the homes of readers all over the world. The Hands Free vintage tee’s are on sale for $12. When I throw on that t-shirt it puts me in a frame of mind to really let go & live.  

Here is a life-changing opportunity that can bring you closer to your goal of a more meaningfully connected, simpler, gratitude-filled life:

A Simple Year: 12 Months of Guided Simplicity – I am so honored to be one of twelve simplicity authors who will be sharing wisdom designed to help you simplify your life. Check out the twelve topics for the course here. Along with inspiring and informative articles that will come right to your inbox, there will also be a live webinar each month where you can connect with the authors, ask questions and meet other people on a similar path. The live webinar will be recorded and provided so you can view anytime. All the information you need to know about the course and early-bird sign up is here.

Friends of The Hands Free Revolution, please share your current goal for living better & loving more. What’s working? What’s not? We can learn so much from each other. I am grateful to walk beside you on this journey. Your messages fuel me. 

P.S. Don’t forget I will be sharing strategies to let go of distraction & perfection with Experience Life magazine in “A Healthy Revolution: The Virtual Conference.” This is a FREE online event where you can hear from today’s most progressive experts about how to live happier & healthier even in the face of real challenges. In my interview (airing 8pm CST 10/20/14), I will be describing my first steps to a less distracted, more meaningfully connected life & what I do when I find myself slipping back into old ways. I will also discuss how living Hands Free has changed how I relate to my spouse, my parents, close friends, & complete strangers. I hope you will join me!

Which Way to a Peaceful Response?

"Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves." ~Henry David Thoreau

“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.” ~Henry David Thoreau

I should’ve known not to get so confident. I hadn’t gotten lost once in this new big city of mine. I’d traveled interstates, back roads, and busy thoroughfares. Every time I’d punched an address into my new navigation system, it had taken me there without fail.

I’d become so confident that I even stopped printing out paper directions as a back up or calling people ahead of time asking for landmarks along the route. Those were the safeguards I’d used for over a decade to compensate for my severely flawed sense of direction. I am known to turn the wrong way out of the bathroom at a restaurant and not be able to find my family. I am known to fear that my car’s been stolen until my Noticer daughter tells me we’re in the wrong parking lot. When my friends heard I was moving to a new, much larger city, they worried. They suggested I not leave a two-mile radius for awhile. But with the help of a new navigation system, I’ve had a new lease on life. I’ve been taking my children to places I never thought I could go by myself. I stopped gripping the steering wheel with sweaty hands when venturing into uncharted territories.

Well … until Saturday morning.

My daughters had their first swim meet with their new team at an aquatics center that was about twenty minutes away from our house. After years of stressful crack-of-dawn departures, we’d learned to get prepared the night before. All the bags were packed. Swim suits and flip flops were laid out. I had the address of where I was going written on a sticky note next to the bags. All I had to do was punch the address in. The night before I thought briefly about gathering my direction back ups, but I happily reminded myself I didn’t need them anymore.

That morning when I punched in the address of the swim center, it didn’t show up. I tried typing in the name of the facility. No luck. I tried just the street. That didn’t work either. For five minutes, I punched anything I thought might get us in the general vicinity. I noticed my fingers becoming more aggressive with each fail and the air in the car was getting warm. Suddenly my hazard lights came on automatically. I frantically felt around the steering wheel for the off button. The obnoxious clicking sound was nearly loud enough to wake the neighbors. I had a full-on sweat going now.

“Why is this address not in existence?” I growled to myself. “And how in the world do I turn these hazard lights off?” I angrily punched more buttons on the dash and ended up turning on all the lights in the car and opening the trunk.

[Read more...]

A Question to Live By

small moments/small notebooks HFM

“Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.” –Fernando Sabino

I was standing over the shrimp dip when a family friend approached me. Although he was known to ask thought-provoking questions, and this was my going away party, I was not expecting this one. “So once you get settled in your new home, what do you imagine that moment will look like when you feel like everything is going turn out okay?” he asked.

In one mere sentence my friend went straight to my greatest fears, my greatest insecurities, and my greatest hopes. Funny thing is, I knew the answer to his question. I’d envisioned it a thousand times as I’d prepared our home to be emptied. Tears began dripping my face. An unsightly sea of mascara, I was sure, but I could not stop the tears if I tried. My friend didn’t act like it was any big deal. His wife, who is also my dear friend, had probably exposed him to spontaneous sobbing a few times. My friend just waited. Then he listened.

“When my children come home from school and say, ‘I met a friend today, Mama.’ That is when I know it’s gonna be okay. One friend makes the whole world better, you know. One friend for each girl. That is the moment,” I replied. Then I dabbed my eyes with a yellow party napkin and smiled because friends like that just make you smile even when you’re crying.

I thought that conversation concluded over appetizers and farewell hugs, but it didn’t. For the past two months, that conversation has continued in my head.

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Life on Repeat

life on repeat HFH 1

“But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all? And if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you’ve been here before? How am I gonna be an optimist about this?” -Bastille 

I don’t think it was meant as a criticism, but the words stung a little.

“Usually I have to really dig to find anything new in your messages, but this time I didn’t,” the commenter wrote about a short piece I published on The Hands Free Revolution page.

I write about grasping what really matters in a world of a distraction. I write about seeing the glimmers of goodness amidst the mayhem, mess, and mistakes of everyday life. I have written over 200 blog posts, one book, and I am working on my second book. Sometimes when I write, I find myself asking, “Have I written that somewhere before?” And the answer is yes, in some form or fashion, I probably have. Writing is my instrument for focusing on what really matters. And because the distractions of life never go away, I require daily reminders repeated over and over. To some folks, it probably does begin to feel like a broken record.

But here’s the thing. Every once in awhile, as I am writing about what I write about, something unexpected comes out. Painful personal reflections like the hurry up post, the yelling post, and the bully post that cause tears to come to my eyes. Stories like these cause my hands to shake when I push the ‘publish’ button. That’s when I know someone is out there waiting to read these words. Such moments are my fuel. They say, “Keep writing, Rachel. Even though it’s tedious and repetitive, you just never know when your words are going to intersect with someone who needs them.”

But I am human which means in between those encouraging moments are times of doubt and uncertainty. That’s when I begin to question myself. I think about the criticisms and wonder if I’ve said all there is to say about letting go of distraction to grasp what really matters. I wonder if I’ve run dry. I wonder if my writing gig is up.

But recently, as I was thinking about this painful possibility for myself, I thought of you. I thought to myself, maybe there is something here for all of us. Maybe it will even make one person cry with me today.

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Moving On Better Than I Was Before

hill climb

There is a moving van parked in front of my house today. This is the house where I let life slip right through my multi-tasking fingers, but it is also the house where I grasped what mattered with two free hands and one committed heart.

Although my husband and I have moved four times since we were married, this fifth move feels like the hardest. As I drive the kids home from swim team practice, the mailboxes of my neighbors make me sad. As I walk the halls of my children’s school, the artwork of children I’ve watched grow brings tears to my eyes. Even the swing at the park remembers all the times I pushed small shoulders beneath flying hair and wiggly feet. Unlike the other moves, this one feels like a tragic loss.

Why? I’ve wondered over and over. What it is about this move that makes it more painful than the rest? As I’ve climbed the hill where I had my Hands Free breakdown-breakthrough, I’ve had some time to think about this. You see, I walk that hill almost everyday. To me, it’s holy ground—Mother Nature’s life-size reminder of where I once was and where I want to be: present, connected, and fully alive. My climbs up this hill are now numbered. I am down to two.

As I sweated my way up the hill the other day, I remembered my biggest worry when I moved here six years ago was that my younger daughter was still not walking. She was nearly two-years-old and preferred shuffling around upright on her knees. My husband and I joked that she might just slide across the stage with holey knees and a jubilant smile to accept her high school diploma. But alas, those worries were put to rest a few days after the moving boxes were unpacked. I’ll never forget how my curly-haired daughter stood right up, walked seventeen steps, and never looked back.

Yes, my daughter learned to walk in this house. I guess you could say so did I. I’d been running, running for so long that I’d forgotten how to slow down, to breathe, to live, not just merely survive.

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The Ten Minutes that Changed My Distracted Life

“By offering to give love, you are offering yourself a chance to be loved.”  –Rachel Macy Stafford

“By offering to GIVE love, you are offering yourself a chance to BE loved.”
–Rachel Macy Stafford

Something happened over the holidays that I wasn’t planning to share, but I’ve decided it must not be kept to myself. You see, lately I am getting a lot of messages from readers that say, “I am who you once were, but I don’t know if there is hope for me; I don’t know if I can change; I think it’s too late for me.”

Three and a half years ago, I said those same words to myself. In fact, when I began taking steps to let go of my distracted, perfectionistic, hurried ways I didn’t tell anyone for three months. Why? Because I thought change was not possible for me. I once believed I was too far gone to ever come back. But this past December 24th, I was powerfully reminded what I once believed was so wrong. Here is my story. May it reach someone who longs to believe change is possible. Believing is the first step.


We were supposed to leave the house in nineteen minutes. In my hand, I held my child’s holiday dress and her pretty tights.

“Honey, it’s time to wake up and get dressed for the Christmas Eve service,” I said gently to my seven-year-old daughter who was barely visible under a mound of blankets.

“I’m too tired,” she moaned without opening her eyes.

Two hours earlier I’d suggested she take a nap since we’d be up late, but now I was regretting it. My lethargic child looked as if she could sleep for several more hours.

“Come on, I’ll help you get dressed,” I offered.

She didn’t move a muscle.

This was not like her, but yet I was starting to feel agitated. “You can have two more minutes to rest, then it will be time to get up,” I firmly stated using a tactic that worked well with my former special education students.

After tidying up a few things around her room and glancing at my unusually put-together appearance in her mirror, I told my daughter it was time to get up now.

“I don’t feel good,” she cried.

I expelled a long, hot breath before speaking. “Mommy is trying to be patient with you, but I am starting to feel impatient,” I said honestly. “I’ll take you to the bathroom and then I bet you’ll feel better.”

At the pace of an elderly person with bad arthritis, she gingerly crawled out of bed and plopped down on the toilet.

“I will put on your tights right here,” I said knowing we needed to leave the house very shortly if we were going to get seats in the service.

“I don’t feel good,” she repeated once again—but this time the word “good” turned into one long wail. Her face crumpled in pain.

Three and a half years ago, this is when I would have lost it.  This is when I would have gruffly shoved her feet into those tights and barked that we were going to be late. This is when thoughts of my own agenda, my own appearance, my own timetable, and my own demands would have overruled all else. This is when things would have gotten ugly.

But things are different now.

[Read more...]

Freedom From Your Fears

 facing fears handsfree mama

My younger daughter recently learned about Chucky. You know–the angry red-headed serial killing doll who never left Tommy’s room without a knife. If you managed to avoid the Chucky movies that were popular in the late 80’s/early 90’s, consider yourself lucky. It was horror at the most ridiculous level. However, I knew the movie was realistic enough to scare children. I dreaded the day my kids found out about wild-eyed Chucky and suddenly their beloved American Girl Dolls were ushered from their rooms at night.

For three nights in a row, my daughter woke up crying and could not go back to sleep.  Coincidentally, I was awake all three of those times because I was dealing with my own nighttime fears.

My fears were brought on during a conference call with my publishing team. While talking over what I might expect around the time of my book release, the possibility of traveling to large metropolitan areas for television interviews came up.



I wanted to be sure they knew some important details about me—I wanted to pipe up with this:

Do you know what I wear every single day? See this comfy Dri-fit? This is my Writer’s Uniform, and I rarely deviate from it. And see this laptop? This is how I communicate. This is where I think about what I am going to say, then I type it, then I change it a bunch of times, and then when I am good and ready, I hit ‘publish.’ Wearing my comfy uniform. In my basement. Alone with my cat, who at times, is even too much company.

I was terrified at the thought of taking my directionally-challenged self outside familiar surroundings. I warned my supportive team members that I would surely get lost in the hotel, and I would never make it on time to my interviews. They assured me I would not be alone and continued being so excited and pumped up about the possibilities. But I couldn’t stop the fears from welling up inside me.

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Three Words for the Critic in Your Head

 someone #hands free mama1

When that little voice says, “You messed up again,”
Remember every tear you ever wiped,
Every knee you ever dusted off,
Every broken heart you ever mended,
Every disaster you ever fixed,
So someone else could be put back together.

When that little voice says, “You lost it again,”
Remember all the times you waited outside the school doors,
waited in the audience,
waited on the sidelines,
waited in the waiting room,
waited in the cold,
So someone else could be found.

When that little voice says, “You can do better,”
Remember all the times you put someone’s needs before your own,
Sacrificed sleep so someone else could rest,
Pushed away hunger so someone else could eat,
Gave everything you ever had,
So someone else could triumph.

When that little voice says, “You are missing out,”
Remember when you juggled a million things so you could be there.
When you smiled through your exhaustion,
When you crawled in the bed at midnight,
When you held a shaking hand,
So someone else could feel unalone.

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Taking Away My Daughter’s Smile

taking my daughter's smile

My life contained everything I’d ever wished for—a loving husband, two beautiful children, a healthy mind and body, and a safe and comfortable home.

Given such desirable circumstances, one would have thought I’d wake up every morning feeling grateful, happy, and content.

But that was not the case.

I woke up feeling the same way I did when I went to bed the night before—unhappy, annoyed, and irritable.

Mentally, I could acknowledge my life’s abundant blessings, but I didn’t really see them or feel them because I was too focused on my life’s abundant distractions. Too many commitments. Too many screens.  Too many self-induced pressures to be all and do all. Too many unachievable standards. Too many to-do’s and never enough time.

And when you’re overbooked, hurried, and clinging to the electronic device, there’s very little time to laugh, rest, play, and simply BE. And that’s when the smile on your face tends to disappear.

Although I managed to plaster on a smile in public, my face wore a frown in the privacy of my home. You see, when you are living a highly distracted life, nothing—not even the beautiful faces of your loving family—can bring you joy.

The truth hurts but the truth heals … and brings me closer to the parent and person I want to be.

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