Faithful Fridays

{A Soft Place to Land Before the Weekend}

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The First Faithful Friday: Freedom, Fireworks, & the Mom Life 🇺🇸✨

Let’s Chat!

Hey friends, Happy 4th!! Between sunscreen battles, ‘5 more minutes at the pool’ negotiations, and trying to rationalize hot dogs as a solid protein, I’m so glad you’re here.

Let’s take a breath together and talk about real freedom—the kind that doesn’t disappear when you’re splashed by a cannon ball or when an epic meltdown after too many red, white, and blue cupcakes happens.

This Weeks Scripture:

(For the Mom Who’s Tired of Performing)

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery."

Galatians 5:1 (NIV)

This verse found me, halfway around a lake trail, as I watched my boys turn sticks into ‘swords’ and debate whether big foot is real. Christ’s freedom isn’t just for serene, Pinterest-perfect moms—it’s for the ones whispering ‘please don’t lick that’, for the women who pray over scraped elbows and scraped patience as well.

Up here, where the air is clear and the boys are feral, I’m reminded: real freedom isn’t controlling the chaos; it’s trusting the One who holds even this wild, beautiful adventure.

Let’s Reflect:

I used to think ‘perfection’ in motherhood meant pressed polos and clean faces. I pictured summers full of quiet nooks for reading together, golden-hour firefly catches, and homemade popsicles that didn’t end up as sticky puddles on the deck.

Then I had boys.

Now, ‘quiet nooks’ are just hiding spots, ‘golden hour’ is sweating playing baseball in the backyard with a glass of wine in my hand, and the only thing homemade about our popsicles is the dirt mixed in when they’re dropped. But here’s the sacred shift: true freedom isn’t forcing my ‘postable’ dreams onto their wild hearts—it’s releasing the guilt when their version of ‘celebrating freedom’ involves using sparklers as baseball bats.

Last night, as I thought about how to explain Independence Day (other than singing “Happy Birthday America”) I realized the greatest freedom I can give them isn’t a flawless history lesson. It’s letting them see me live unchained—from shame when the day goes sideways, from comparison when my summer looks nothing like the Instagram grid, from the lie that love is measured by how put-together we appear.

For the Mom Who’s Praying (even if it’s just for bedtime)

Lord, We’re grateful for freedoms big and small—like being able to worship you openly and the fact that You love us even when we serve cereal for dinner. Help us live like women who are truly free: not perfect, not put-together, but Yours. When the holiday chaos hits, anchor us in Your peace. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

May this Independence Day leave your heart both full and free, knowing you're loved by Him and by me.

Until next Friday, Blair