Hustle is a new buzzword. I see it on cute mommy shirts. My friends with littles (who are much younger than I) use this word. They have the cute shirts.

Do you hustle? I think I do something that more closely resembles scrambling. If you are a woman, I am certain that you hustle.

From the dishwasher to the washing machine, from the kitchen to the office, from soccer to piano, we hustle, hustle, hustle.

I saw a shirt that read, “Good things come to those who hustle.” Another said, “Hustle Queen”. One shirt said,

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My bags were in the minivan along with our four young children, and I drove to the church to tell my husband that we were leaving him for a few days.

Enough was enough.

He couldn’t deny my reasons for going, but he begged me not to leave. His brokenness gave me hope as I drove back home to unpack. The thing I wanted more than anything was to be wanted by my husband.

As desperate as I was for his love and attention, he was grasping for something to fill a need in his own soul.

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Do you remember the first time you were given freedom and ownership over something? Maybe when you got your own room, a car, or an office? You were put in charge of a project or chose colors and carpet for your new house.

What about when you had children? Did you have grand ideas of how you would raise them? Were you determined to do it differently than how you were raised?

Then you actually had kids.

I don’t know about you, but my Andy Griffith, Leave it to Beaver, Brady Bunch expectations rarely work out these days.

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