We woke up at 5:30 AM the other morning. The house was quiet, except for the occasional shuffle and groan of two middle school boys getting ready for football practice. As a single mom of four, mornings like this are my normal, early, a little chaotic…full of reminders that life doesn’t wait for grief, for exhaustion or for peace. After getting the older two off to practice, I sat at the kitchen table with my younger two. My seven-year-old daughter was carefully creating a bead bracelet, her little brother chatting beside her. At first, it was peaceful. Then the distractions started. Her frustration grew, and suddenly, BOOM, words were yelled, tears were shed and for a moment, it felt like our morning had erupted into chaos.
Really, I had to take a deep breath.
Because in this season, walking through grief, parenting four kids on my own, keeping my heart soft while my world feels heavy, the last thing I wanted was to respond out of anger or shame. I knelt beside her and gently said, “The kindest thing we can do for ourselves and others is to step away before we say something that might hurt someone or steal our peace. You can choose to pause and walk away.” She was so angry I encouraged her to step away, she walked outside and sat on the porch for a while, storming quietly in her own little world.
I took a deep breath.
Parenting isn’t just about teaching right from wrong. It’s about showing them, especially our little ones, how to navigate big feelings, how to handle frustration, and how to protect their peace even when the world feels loud and heavy. And as a mom walking through grief myself, I know how hard that can be. Some days, it feels like we are just holding on by a thread, trying to show up, trying to model patience, trying to teach love in the middle of exhaustion. Even in these messy moments, where words are yelled, feelings are raw, and a seven-year-old walks outside to cool off, I have to speak the truth. I have to remind her that her words have power, that her choices matter and that taking a moment to pause is a sign of strength, not weakness.
Life doesn’t pause for heartbreak, for grief, for not going the way you envisioned, or for the hard days of single motherhood. But these moments, these early mornings, these loud afternoons, these tiny teaching moments with a bracelet and spilled words, these are where resilience is built. Where my children learn that they can choose love over anger, peace over chaos, and grace over frustration.
Parenting isn’t perfect. It’s not neat. It’s loud, messy, exhausting and beautiful all at once.
And even in grief, even in single motherhood, even when I’m running on empty, I get to show my little ones what choosing peace, patience, and love looks like. Even in these small moments when my seven-year-old steps away to cool off, during my own deep breaths, in the midst of the chaos of early mornings, I am reminded that God is teaching us too. He gives us the grace to pause, to choose peace over anger, and to model love even when life feels heavy. Trusting Him in the messy, loud, and exhausting moments can transform them into lessons of patience, resilience, and hope.
So to you, mama, yes, you, waking up early, juggling heartbreak and chaos, teaching little hearts how to navigate big feelings, all while walking through big emotions yourself and trying your best: I see you. I see the love, the patience, the exhaustion and the courage it takes to show up every day. Even when it feels messy and imperfect. The small moments, the deep breaths, the gentle words, the quiet pauses…they matter. You are doing more than surviving. You are shaping hearts, building resilience and modeling grace.
