This morning was hard. The kind of hard that clings to the corners of a home and weighs heavy in the air. Harlow was wild, Hawkins was melting, and I was fraying fast. Everything felt loud. Messy. Chaotic.

But in the middle of it-Case.

He was gentle. Calm. Present. My once-little boy who entered my life when I was worn out and walking alone… now a steady shoulder in my storm. He saw me, and he helped. And that was the first grace.

The second came later, as I rocked Hawkins. My arms around his small frame, Case beside us-my two bookends. And suddenly, I was back in those early years with Case. Only this time, I didn’t feel the resentment. I felt the ache. The deep, sobering ache of moments I didn’t cherish then-moments I now would give anything to hold again.

I cried. Not the “tired mom” kind of tears, but the “I missed it and I know it” kind. God met me there-right in the floor. And He whispered something so kind and so convicting:

“This is what you took for granted.”

It stopped me. Because it was true. I had resented the slowness of those days, the weight of single motherhood, the loneliness. And now? I missed it all. And yet… in the aching, something beautiful happened.

I got to do it again. 

To rock again. 

To feel again. 

To love again-present this time.

That’s redemption.

And even though I can’t go back and redo those first years with Case, I saw something this morning that healed me a little: he didn’t lose me. In fact, he helped me find myself again today.

God, thank You for second chances that show up in chaos.

Thank You for children who grow into comforters.

Thank You for tears that wash away guilt and make space for grace.

I’m here now. 

I’m still learning. 

But I’m here.

And they still crawl into my arms.

And that means I haven’t missed it all.