Cold Tea and Full Hearts!!

The kitchen is a mess, my cup of tea has gone cold, and my to-do list seems to be laughing at me. That's when the thought struck me.

Gosh... it's been a while since I wrote anything.

Life has been so beautifully chaotic that I almost forgot to do the one thing I love the most, write my heart out. 

"Hectic" doesn't even begin to describe life since I stepped into a new role in a new place. For someone who always believed that nothing should come before being a mother, this season has been a challenge. I constantly wonder if I'm spending enough time with my children. Then came another quiet realization. I'm not that young Nancy anymore. The Nancy who could run behind a toddler, finish a mountain of housework, and still have enough energy to do ten more things without complaining. These days, my body reminds me that it needs a little more grace than it once did.

I have always been there for my little ones, from brushing their hair and choosing their clothes to reminding them to bathe. I paid attention to every little detail. It wasn't just routine. It was my way of loving them. Now, I find myself chasing endless to-do lists, always trying to catch up, yet somehow feeling like I'm falling behind. Some days, it breaks my heart.

But somewhere in the middle of all this chaos, something beautiful happened. My husband, technically my husband, though he sometimes thinks he's my oldest child, quietly stepped up. Even after working through the night, he stayed awake to look after the kids while I was at work. (The kids did have quite an adventure trying to wake him whenever he dozed off!)

My son surprised me too. Whenever my husband had office calls, he took charge of his little sister. He dropped her off at dance class and looked after her until I returned from work. But what touched me the most wasn't what he did. It was what he asked. Every single day, he would look at me and ask, "Amma, was your day okay? Is anything troubling you?"

Somewhere between homework, growing taller, and becoming a teenager, he had quietly started looking after me too.

And then came the biggest surprise of all. My five-year-old.

A few days ago, when I was down with a fever, I woke up around six in the morning to hear tiny whispers near our bed. Curious, I stayed still and listened. She was talking to our cat. In her soft little voice, she was explaining that Amma was sick and that she would take care of the cat until I got better. A few moments later, she carefully brought a bowl of water and placed it out for the cat. I don't think she knew I was watching. It was such a small act, one that could have easily gone unnoticed.

But in that quiet moment, something stirred within me.

Children are always watching.

They notice kindness.

They remember love.

And one day, without us even realizing it, they begin to reflect the very things they've seen at home.

Then there are the people who quietly hold us together when life feels like it's coming apart. My sister, who checks on me almost every day and worries about me more than I worry about myself. My parents, who arrived at our doorstep after just one phone call. They never asked questions. They simply showed up. Friends who offered to help with our daughter, checked in on me, and reminded me that I wasn't doing this alone. Our helper akka, who lovingly took our little girl home when she refused to go to daycare, giving me one less thing to worry about.

Looking back, I realize I wasn't carrying this season by myself. I was being carried by so many hands and so many hearts.

Maybe my cup of tea goes cold now.

Maybe the house isn't as spotless as it once was.

Maybe there are days when guilt finds its way into my heart because I couldn't be everywhere my children needed me.

But perhaps I've been measuring motherhood, and even life, all wrong.

Maybe it isn't about doing everything ourselves.

Maybe it's about allowing ourselves to be loved, supported, and cared for. Maybe it's about raising children who one day begin to care for others without being asked. Maybe it's about recognizing the quiet army of people God places around us, carrying us through seasons when we simply cannot carry everything alone.

The kitchen is still a mess. 

My cup of tea is still cold.

The to-do list is probably still laughing.

But today, my heart is full.

Not because life has become easier.

But because I've realized just how loved we are.

And for this beautifully imperfect season of life, for my family, my friends, and every hand that has held me up, I am deeply, deeply grateful.

Until next time

Nancy Kavin.