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  • Writer's pictureFaith Broussard Cade


Do everything.

Be everything.

Rushing from one place to the next.

From one activity to the next.

From one obligation to the next.

Stretched thin.

Hanging on by a thread.

Just pushing through.

Survival mode.

Existing on auto- pilot.

It's an epidemic.

My dear, sweet friends,

For the past few weeks, I've been feeling stuck. Even with the best intentions to start the New Year in a good place, I can honestly say I haven't felt much like myself. I've avoided writing, creating, this blog, my vision board, my journal, and planning events I'd like to host, events I know I should be hosting. I've avoided it all. And, crafty as I am, I've re-purposed that avoidance, and packaged it as "there just aren't enough hours in the day." Oh, I've been diligently chipping away at house projects and laundry and tidying and running errands and appointments and work and emails and carpool and Bean's after- school activities and serving at church and creating content for brands. I have little to no free time. There is no white space in my meticulously color- coded planner, complete with matching pens and STICKERS. On paper, and in real life, I'm doing a lot. My mind is beyond capacity, wrestling with thoughts of to-do lists, responsibilities, and self- imposed expectations...

Do all the things. Exceptionally well.

Be a good mom.

Be a good wife.

Be a good sister.

Be a good friend.

Be a good daughter.

Extracurriculars for Bean.


Work out.

Eat right.

Drink water.

Be mindful and present.

Be a #girlboss.

Monetize your gifts.

Pursue your passions and purpose.

Slay all day.

Meal plan.


Keep a clean house.


Host events.

Be active on social media.

Engage with followers.

Return phone calls. #eek

Take your vitamins.

Take showers.

Go to brunch.

Put on concealer.

Read books.

Go to church.

Respond to the group text thread.



Date night.


Contribute to savings.

Be happy.

Look happy.

And rested.

Be social.

Perfect your craft.


Deep condition your hair.

Go to Target.

Birthday parties.

Quiet time.


Diffuse essential oils.


Read your Bible.

Pay bills.

Be mindful and present.

Listen to podcasts.

Keep track of current events.

Go to doctor's appointments.

Schedule play dates.

Donate to charity.

Be a kind and decent human being.

That's not even the full list, y'all.

And yet, I want more.

I can barely breathe, but I want more.

Some days, my heart feels like it's about to jump right out of my chest, it's beating so rapidly. With craving and longing and excitement and in anticipation of all the incredibly meaningful and life- changing things that God has planned for me to do. I see and feel and hear and taste the promise of the divinely- ordained destiny He has carefully orchestrated just for me.

But I cannot access it. I can't get to it. I see it. I'm reaching for it. My fingertips can almost touch it. And just as I'm about the grasp it...

Did I switch that load of laundry over to the dryer? Lemme go do that right quick.

What? How is it noon already? I gotta take something out to cook for dinner... Argh! There's nothing to take out because never submitted my online grocery order because I got distracted while I was trying to meal plan. Guess I'll have to make a quick stop at the store before I pick Bean up from school which means I'll need to leave a little bit earlier than usual.

What day is it? How is it Thursday? Bean has ballet today. Can't forget to pack her ballet bag so we can head to her class right after carpool. Oh, and she needs a snack too.

Yipes! Today's the deadline to submit my application for that wellness conference I really wanted to speak at. Ok. It should only take a few minutes...

Anddddddddd... the day is gone. Time for school pickup. Better get in the carpool line early, otherwise it's total pandemonium. Not to mention, Bean is a very perceptive kindergartner who suddenly knows how to tell time when afternoon carpool rolls around. #eyeroll The rest of the day will be spent shuttling her around, preparing dinner, getting in a few games of UNO or BINGO after the dinner table is cleared, and savoring precious time with my little family.

Then bath. A book (or two). And bed.

I treasure these precious moments. I feel blessed.

Bean is tucked in and fast asleep. Her sparkly unicorn eye mask in place. Mozart playing softly in the background. Night lights twinkling. Diffuser silently misting lavender essential oil throughout the room. Uniforms ironed and laid out for tomorrow morning, complete with ruffled socks and matching hair bows. I kiss Bean's warm cheek and tiptoe out of the room, thinking about how quickly time passes and how she was just a baby.

I am equal parts grateful and depleted.

I walk down the dark hallway to my bedroom, collapse into the soft chair beside the bed, my mind and body exhausted from the day's unrelenting demands and frantic pace. Until this very moment, I've intentionally avoided sitting down, determined to debunk the myth (read: fact) that I've overdone it today. But now, I sit. I sit and allow myself to reckon with the disheartening reality that I never did get back to pursuing Him. His presence. His purpose. The God things He has planned for me and the gifts He's woven into the very fibers of my being. His peace that surpasses all understanding. His love, grace, and goodness that fills my cup and causes it to overflow.

My schedule is full but my soul is empty.

My plate is full but my soul is starving.

I'm doing #allthethings. What am I accomplishing?

I'm always busy. Always doing something. And yet never feeling as if I've gotten anything done. My mind is scrolling through my to-do list as soon as my eyes open each morning and evaluating my performance until my head hits the pillow at night.

What about this?

Don't forget that.

Did you take your meds?

Oh, you better write that down.

Add that to the grocery list.

Add that to the (unending) Target list.

Are you forgetting someone's birthday?

Did you send that email?

When is that bill due?

It's relentless.

And exhausting.

And if I don't catch it quickly enough, it can be emotionally devastating.

So I chat with God. Some call it praying. I gather up all my hurt feelings and pour them into some pitifully dramatic diatribe about how I just want to do His will and serve Him and share His heart with the world. How this isn't at all about me. And I'm sorry to disappoint Him over and over again by not following through with what He's called me to do, but this ADHD brain that He gave me is a real problem and the star villain in this story called My Life. And I know that He made me this way and He knew me before I was in my mother's womb and He knows the number of hairs on my head, so He should also know that this brain He gave me is easily distracted and just won't allow me to get anything done no matter how hard I try or how organized I try to be or how intentional I am about managing my time appropriately. So I tell God that if He really wants me to do these BIG things He planned for me, then I really need Him to fix my brain. Heal it. Make it work properly, like everyone else's brain does. Make it focus and not go down rabbit holes or get lost in random trains of thought. Make it behave. Fix it. Fix ME.

And in the quiet stillness, down in the most intimate spaces of my soul, I feel Him say,

It's not your brain that needs to be fixed. It's your priorities.

Sucker punch. Straight to the gut.

Say what, now, Lord?

I love you and YOU ARE NOT BROKEN. Yes, your brain may function differently. It may process information in a different way, but I have equipped you with what you need to do what I have called you to do. You cannot access the resources I've provided for you because they're buried beneath all of your stuff. Your lists and schedules and people pleasing and obligatory "yeses" and fear of boundaries and addiction to busy. Your preoccupation with quantity over quality. You'd rather be able to check off 15 trivial things on your list than that one phone call I want you to make or that one email I want you to send because they require you to take a chance and have faith in My plan. You dislike discomfort and you cringe at taking risks, so you overload your day with arbitrary tasks, searching for things to do that give you a sense of immediate gratification and accomplishment. But still you feel empty because you are running from your purpose. Be still. Listen to me. I love you. Do what I've asked you to do. Obedience is better than sacrifice. Obey me. The 'more' your soul is craving for is found in your total submission to Me.

Lord, but what about th- ...

Surrender your Schedule.
Trade your planner for My PLAN.
Give me your lists, and I will give you LIFE.

And that, my friends, is how Jesus got me all the way together this week.

So y'all excuse me while I shift and surrender. My intention is to be consistent and faithful in the little things. To take the small steps toward the ultimate goal. To stop planning (read: procrastinating) and start doing. To take the chances and embrace the discomfort of taking risks. To push beyond what my eyes can see, what my bank account can fund, and what my mind can comprehend. To surrender my fear and allow FAITH to take it's place.

I'm excited and terrified. Y'all pray for me. And I'll be praying for y'all too.

I just love y'all. So so much.


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Faith Broussard Cade
Faith Broussard Cade

Thank you so much, Melissa!


Melissa Lyn
Melissa Lyn

Hang in there, Faith. We are here for you like you are here for us (or more specifically, me).

Much love, melissalyn

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