Faith in the Chaos
Some people imagine faith as quiet mornings, coffee steaming in a perfect mug, Bible open on the table, and sunshine spilling through the window. My reality? A baby crying at 5 a.m., a toddler yelling for her “purple cup not the blue one,” and me whispering, “Lord, please give me patience before I lose my mind.”
Morning Prayers in the Real World
I try to pray in the mornings. Key word: try. Most of the time it’s a half-whispered, half-distracted plea while changing diapers or pouring cereal.
“Thank you, God, for today… oh no, don’t throw that spoon… please help me through this day… did I put on deodorant?”
It may not be picture-perfect, but I think God still hears it. Sometimes I wonder if He laughs a little too.
Faith in the Small Things
I’m not the kind of Christian who can quote Scripture word-for-word. But I believe in the small things — that kindness matters, that love is the biggest commandment, and that forgiveness is a lot harder than it looks.
The other day, while juggling the kids and groceries, a stranger held the door for me. Normally, I’d rush past with a quick “thanks.” But this time I thought: isn’t this exactly the kind of everyday love God tells us to notice?
And then, of course, my toddler yelled, “BYE LADY!” at full volume, breaking the holy moment.
Church Struggles
I’ll be honest: getting two kids under two ready for church feels like preparing for battle. Socks go missing, shoes don’t fit, and somehow someone always needs a diaper change five minutes before we leave.
By the time we get there, I’m sweaty, late, and just praying the nursery volunteers don’t judge me too hard.
But sitting in the pew — even for ten minutes before someone needs me — feels grounding. Like a reminder that I’m not carrying this life alone.
Conversations with Grandpa
Living with my grandparents means faith conversations pop up a lot. Grandpa has strong opinions about everything, including religion.
“People these days,” he said last week, “don’t read the Bible enough.”
I smiled and replied, “People these days don’t even have time to read their email, Grandpa.”
He wasn’t impressed, but Grandma chuckled. Then she quietly said, “Faith doesn’t always need pages. Sometimes it just needs presence.” That stuck with me.
News, Faith, and Opinions
Scrolling through the headlines this week, I saw a story about a church feeding hundreds of families through a food drive. That encouraged me — proof that faith in action can actually make change.
Then I read another story about a pastor buying a sports car with donations. My first thought? If Jesus came back today, He’d probably ride the bus with the rest of us.
Faith isn’t perfect. Neither are people. And maybe that’s the point — we’re all trying, failing, and trying again.
Funny Lessons from Parenting and Faith
My toddler asked, “Is God bigger than Daddy?” I said yes. She thought for a second and replied, “Then He can reach the cookies on top of the fridge.”
My one-year-old claps when we pray before meals. Sometimes he claps before I even finish — like he’s saying, Wrap it up, Mom, I’m hungry.
I tried teaching my daughter “Jesus Loves Me.” She now sings, “Jesus loves… cookies!” Honestly? Not wrong.
Evening Reflections
At night, when the house is finally quiet, I sometimes sit and reflect. Not with long, elaborate prayers — just a simple, “Thank you.”
Thank you for my kids, even on the messy days.
Thank you for my grandparents, even in their struggles.
Thank you for my husband, even when I feel like we only see each other in passing.
Thank you for keeping me upright when the world feels too heavy.
My faith isn’t perfect. I forget, I doubt, I rush past moments I should slow down for. But even in my imperfect faith, I feel like God meets me where I am — in the chaos, in the laughter, in the tears, and yes, even in the spilled juice and mismatched socks.
Final Thought
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that faith doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. It doesn’t need to be strict, formal, or flawless. Sometimes it’s just showing up, whispering a tired prayer, or laughing at the toddler who thinks God is a cookie thief.
And maybe that’s enough. Maybe faith is less about doing everything perfectly and more about keeping the door cracked open for God to step in, even on the messiest of days.
Because if He can handle two kids under two, grandparents who argue about potholes, a tired nurse mom, and soy sauce-covered dinners — He can handle anything.
