I was having flashbacks to when he was two weeks old. I had locked myself in the bathroom and cried hysterically.
Now I was sitting on my pantry floor, tears of frustration and weariness streaming down my face.
I was ashamed at the thoughts going through my head.
“No more children.”
“What’s wrong with him? Why won’t he sleep?”
“Why isn’t God listening? We just need a break.”
“I’m the worst mother ever.”
It was 11:30 and I was sitting in the pantry. It was a new low. I dialed my best friend’s number and she reassured me I wasn’t a bad mother. She poured out grace and didn’t judge.
An hour later I crawled back into bed and thankfully we all slept for 7.5 glorious and uninterrupted hours. The most sleep in three weeks.
The next morning I was determined to have a better day. Like the snow draped over the landscape, God’s grace covered me.
As Jackson ate breakfast, I opened my Advent reading and there it was – encouragement for my weary soul.
You can never be undone.
But I feel like I’m about to come undone. That I’ll unravel and spin out of control.
Thankfully, the places where we’re torn to pieces can be thin places where we touch the peace of God…what has torn you, God makes a thin place to see glory.
I have felt so messed up these past few weeks. So inadequate. Jackson deserves so much more than the messed up me.
But in the middle of the mess, there’s hope. In the moments it feels like I’ll unravel, there’s a Savior that holds me together.
I can never be undone.
But out of a family line that looks like a mess, God brings the Messiah. What was intended to harm, God intended all of it for good, and no matter what intends to harm you, God’s arms have you. You can never be undone. (Ann Voskamp, The Greatest Gift)