I want to share about a time I stepped out with my favorite coffee cup to get away from the quiet of the house. When the kids aren’t here, the silence feels different, less noise, fewer footsteps, fewer voices. The stillness isn’t peaceful and makes the empty spaces stand out more. It’s a reminder that life doesn’t always look like what we imagined it would. There was a time I’d come home from the store and sit in the car for a few minutes just to mentally prepare for the madness waiting inside. Kids flinging open the door before I even got the groceries out, asking what snacks I bought, trying to help while actually making it harder. It was loud and chaotic and honestly, kind of beautiful. Now? I still sit in the car but for a different reason. Because when the house is empty, it’s not just quiet… it’s heavy. And some days, it takes everything in me just to walk through that door.
With my favorite mug in hand, filled with Colombian Folgers Coffee, black (because we don’t play around here), I went for a walk through the garden, hoping to find a moment of peace and a break from the noise in my head. As I moved among the plants, I knelt beside a wild vine tangled, twisting in every direction. It wasn’t neat or perfect. Far from it. But despite its messy growth, it just kept reaching toward the light. Somehow, that stubborn little vine felt like a mirror to my own life, messy, stretched thin, but still reaching and holding on to hope even when the path wasn’t clear.
My mind began to wander.
My youngest is about to start kindergarten, the last little one of the Baugh Bunch stepping out into a whole new world. For the first time, all four of my kids will be on the same campus, each walking their own path but sharing that same stretch of ground. My oldest is right on the edge of being a teenager, already changing in ways that take my breath away. My other two are stepping into new classrooms, new routines and new stages that remind me how fast time is moving. Four very different journeys, all unfolding at once. And here I am, a single mom trying to hold all those pieces together. I’m trying my best to enjoy this summer without getting caught up in the consuming thoughts about what the new school year will bring.
Some days, I barely keep it together, but I keep showing up, because they need me, even when the future feels overwhelming.
Some days feel like deep trenches, not the kind you can climb out of quickly, but the kind that press down on your chest and wear on your soul. The kind that gives you those anxious yawns (IYKYK). Days when the weight of mom guilt settles in heavy, whispering that you’re not enough, that you’re missing out on moments you can’t get back. Days when the absence of the safety net you once had, the comfort of your parents’ presence and your mom’s prayers, feels painfully real. But even in those trenches, I hold on to the truth that God’s grace is enough to carry me through, that His strength is made perfect in my weakness and that I’m never truly alone in the struggle.
And then, as I stood up from admiring the vine, the coffee cup slipped from my hand. Falling onto rocks. Spilling my lukewarm coffee. I sighed and stood still for a moment. Not just because of the mess, but because in that moment I saw all of it, the guilt, the loneliness, the grief, the fatigue. I was tired. Tired of trying to be everything for everyone. Tired of holding it together when I wanted to break.
Later that day, standing at the sink rinsing my favorite mug out, I noticed…nothing. Not a scratch. Not a single chip. That cup had hit rocks hard and somehow, it was still whole. That’s when it hit me: so am I. Not because I’ve handled everything perfectly. Not because I’m strong all the time. But because grace holds what I can’t. Because even when life drops you, even when you’re emptied and shaken, God keeps showing up and saying, “You’re still whole. You’re still mine.”
As I think back to that morning, you know, I didn’t even think about the fact that it hadn’t broken, not right away. It didn’t hit me in the moment, no not when the coffee splashed across the ground or ran down my leg, and not as I stood there staring at the ground half-annoyed and half-exhausted. Honestly, it felt expected. Because of course I spilled my first cup of coffee. Why wouldn’t I? Honestly, nothing surprises me anymore. I just picked it up and went about my day, like we all do. But later, standing at the sink, I saw it clearly. I was so focused on the coffee spilling, the ONE thing that went wrong, that I didn’t even notice the thing that went right.
Isn’t that how it goes?
We focus on the mess, the inconvenience, the frustration. We replay what didn’t go the way we planned and completely miss the quiet ways God is still being good to us. And the more I thought about it, the more it sank in small mercy I didn’t recognize in the moment. Sometimes we’re living in the middle of a blessing and don’t even know it because we’re too used to bracing for what’s next. But even in the hard, God is still covering us in small, quiet ways.
The cup didn’t break. And maybe that doesn’t sound like much…but it could’ve. Take a moment to think about this: this fragile little cup slipped from my hand, fell straight onto the hard stones and should’ve broken. By all logic, it should have cracked, shattered, been done for. But it didn’t. It stayed whole.
The cup didn’t break. And somehow, neither have I. But I almost missed it, because I was too busy looking at the spill.
And that’s what I keep coming back to, the cup didn’t break. And honestly? It would’ve made sense if it had. Just like it would’ve made sense for me to fall apart a long time ago. But here I am. Still showing up. Still pouring coffee. Still walking through the garden. Still whole not because I’ve avoided the hard stuff, but because grace has held the pieces together when I couldn’t.
So if you’re standing in your own mess, trying to figure out how to keep going, don’t miss the small mercies. Don’t miss the fact that you’re still here. That you’re still reaching. That maybe, the very thing you thought would break you, is the same thing God is using to carry you.
