The Angel Who Took us to Chick-fil-a

“Today is going to be different!” I thought, as I woke up, 5:30am. I dove into my morning routine, reading scripture, reading a good book, getting to work on my fitness coaching business – feeling productive and proud of myself.

I had just come off of a difficult three days and I was determined to end that stressed/exhausted/discouraged streak that I was on. So far, the morning looked promising!

Then the first of my babies came into my room.

He was cranky from the get-go. Two years old is a tough age to be apparently. I tried to be sweet and positive and loving, but he wasn’t having it.

“I want watch a show!” He demanded, eye boogers still in his eyes.

“No, sweetie, we aren’t going to watch any shows this morning – we just woke up! Let’s get dressed for the day and make some breakfast!!” I said in my most convincing, cheerful voice. He wasn’t having it. Cue tantrum #1 for the day.

By the time 9:30am rolled around we had repeated this formula over and over (toddler makes unreasonable request, mommy says no kindly, toddler throws a tantrum, mommy prays for patience!) not to mention a few spills, a few accidental bumps and bruises, it was just one of those mornings!

By the time we stared our homeschool routine I was already at the edge of my patience, the house was a wreck and I felt like everyone was in the grumpiest of moods (including mommy).

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. “CRAP!” I thought, I forgot my neighbor had asked me about coming over this morning! I took a deep breath, looked helplessly at the piles of laundry all over the couch and the crumbs on the floor and opened the door. She came in and I could tell was immediately aware I was not at my best.

Not five seconds after her coming in the house, then my two year old jumps on a sharp object which gets stuck in his foot causing a semi-freak out moment for me, and screams from him. Once everyone was calmed down and band-aids and kisses administered, we sat and chatted a bit and then she asked if there was any way she could help me. I blame the pregnancy hormones completely but I couldn’t stop the waterworks. I just had to cry.

Immediately everything came out – how tired I was, how I felt like I was failing as a mom, a wife, a friend, a coach (dramatic I know, but that’s how I felt). She wrapped me in a hug and said: “Let’s go to Chick-fil-a! Common! You need to get out of the house! How does that sound kids?”

Cue the chorus of excited children screams and the bustling of getting shoes on and tromping out the door.

I told her later that I felt like God sent an angel to my doorstep this morning. A friend who, ready or not, was exposed to my weakness and trials and responded with love, prayer and a trip to Chick-fil-a.

There is no point to this post, no tips, tricks, recipes or insights.
Maybe tomorrow, but today, I’m just grateful, weak, but grateful that no matter how hard I try to do it alone, I’m given moments of forced neediness.

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