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I never really considered myself ‘the brave one’. Loud, sure. Spontaneous, at times. Joyful, usually. But brave — not so much. Then I asked myself a hard question – the kind that sticks in your throat even when you say it in your head.

What does bravery look like to me?

Clearly, I am no Joan of Arc or William Wallace! The bravery that meets my Monday blues, looks less like an epic novel and more like a tiny spark that starts a fire. It’s hard to feel like a world-changer when all it seems like I am doing is changing dirty sheets and stained clothes. It’s hard to feel like a hero when your weekly objective encompasses saving money, and, at best, scoring some time in the bathroom — gloriously alone. The funny thing about bravery is it thrives under pressure and glows in the dark.

Sometimes bravery spreads like a ripple into a wave. Sometimes it’s a wake-up call inspiring others to action. Sometimes it drops in like an unexpected guest and urges us to rally in the middle of our mess.

When I picture bravery, I see pioneers of hope. I see the heavy-weight champions of love.

Brave is the momma who doesn’t sleep a wink because her baby is running a fever, and she is the night nurse on duty.

Brave is the sister faithfully serving behind the scenes, day after day, with no promotion on the horizon, but a paycheck bringing warm food to the table.

Brave is the tired mommy who still musters the strength for one more bed-time story after who knows how many hours on her tired feet.

Brave is the foster mom who exchanges what she thought would be her ‘normal’ for a house full of tiny people who melt her heart and drive her to her knees.

Brave is finally getting tested for breast cancer, pushing past the fears of the past in order to map out a plan for the future.

Brave is being honest, exactly where you are.

Let’s be the everyday freedom fighters. We set the tone for our homes and tenderly shape the next generation into brave ones who are ready for battle.

Let’s lead by example and rush into the hard places when everything inside us begs us to stay hidden.

Let’s show our fight in the little things, so when the big things come we can be found brave. The way I see it, when you boil down courage, it’s simply – daring love. The kind of love that rushes deeper, farther, and beyond all reason — this, my friends, is motherhood at its bravest.

What is one way you don’t see yourself as being brave but really takes courage?