She Was BIG Mad at Me

My baby girl was crying into her blanket, fist in her mouth, giving me all kinds of business with her screams, yells, and tears.

She was tired. She had been fed, changed, cuddled, and loved. She simply needed to take a nap.

But she cried like I wasn't there.

She cried like I was never coming back.

She cried like I had left her in her most vulnerable moment.

She was mad, not realizing that what she truly needed was rest.

She didn't realize I was right there.

She didn't realize that I needed her to learn how to self-soothe.

As a twin, it was important for her to learn that I won't always be able to hold her every moment of every day.

She doesn't realize that she's learning one of the most valuable life skills she'll ever have—to find peace when comfort doesn't come immediately.

Now, as I write this, I realize that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

I sat on my couch crying once again because we experienced another delay in payment from a funder.

I cried in panic.

I cried in frustration.

I sobbed, "I'm done."

All the while, God was sitting there watching me cry into my blanket. An ugly cry, too.

The kind that leaves you with a pounding migraine.

I cried in my husband's arms as I told him I was tired of it all.

And God watched me the entire time.

He watched me reach for the very skills He has been teaching me through nearly a decade of entrepreneurship.

He watched me develop "hinds' feet for high places."

He watched me choose faith, even when my feelings wanted fear.

Less than 60 days later, I had $310,000 worth of grant award letters sitting in my inbox.

We have fresh programming.

We're preparing to expand into a new location to serve even more families.

And a deep peace has settled over me.

I've realized that my recovery time after a crash-out is getting shorter. (This is the part where I laughed, after I cried).

With every crash-out, God patiently watches me work through it.

He watches me use the tools He's already placed inside me.

He uses my husband to become a source of peace, gently leading me back to a place of calm.

As I watched my baby girl finally drift into a deep sleep, I couldn't help but see myself.

The peace had been available all along.

She simply had to surrender to it.

Isn't that exactly what God invites us to do?

I, too, want to continue growing the fruit of peace.

As I think about all the lessons in this season, all I can say is, "Thank You, Lord, for Your peace."