Building faith and feeding toddlers—both at the same time.

This post is part of the 10-part series: The Grace to Make Changes. You can read the full series here.

I used to think I had to be ready before I could begin.

Clear plan. Calm schedule. Right mindset. Then I’d know it was time to move.

But life doesn’t usually hand you a blank canvas—it hands you a cluttered desk, a crying baby, a seventh-grade meltdown, and a whisper from God in the middle of it all.

And that’s where I was at the start of 2024: stretched thin, still healing, and praying to be a better steward of what God had already placed in my hands.
“I want to be a good manager—a good steward of the life, glory, resources, and relationships You’ve allowed me access to.”

That’s what I wrote in my journal. And that’s what I was trying to live—despite not feeling particularly strong or spiritual at the time.

We Build in Disruption

We tend to wait until the storm passes. Until we feel sure. Until the timing “makes sense.”

But what if your delay isn’t really about discernment—but about fear?

Noah didn’t build the ark when he had nothing else to do. He built while the world around him was unraveling. While mockery filled the air and sin filled the land. The sky wasn’t dark yet—but the warning had come. And he didn’t wait for rain to fall to start preparing.

I’m learning that obedience isn’t about the calm—it’s about conviction. It’s not about applause or perfection. It’s stewardship. And that stewardship starts in disruption.

And I wasn’t just learning that through Noah’s story—I was living it.

“So God said to Noah, ‘I am going to put an end to all people… But I will establish my covenant with you, and you will enter the ark.’”
—Genesis 6:13, 18 (NIV)

From My Life

There were days I’d hold Milo in one arm, scroll job applications with the other, and wonder if any of it mattered.

Lily, our toddler, was in full discovery mode—testing every limit, keeping me constantly alert. And Amy, our preteen, was anything but quiet. Seventh grade came with friend drama, emotional storms, and boundary-pushing in a house that already felt stretched to capacity.

My marriage with Desmond wasn’t untouched either. It was heavy with pressure—not from conflict, but from time, finances, and grief. His mother, Pat, was sick, and we both knew we were on borrowed time. The weight of that waiting lived with us. It made everything more tender.

Meanwhile, my parents, Pernell and Sandra, were gently but consistently encouraging us to move back to Alabama. To come closer to stability. To what felt familiar and safe. And part of me deeply wanted that.

But Desmond had a different vision. He didn’t want to return—he wanted to expand. To build forward. To reach for more than what was familiar. And in that tension, I felt torn. Trying to discern which voice was wisdom and which was fear. Trying to hold it all without breaking apart.

This was the weight we were carrying—family, sickness, change, and each other.

In all that tension, God wasn’t asking me to wait—He was asking me to trust. It didn’t feel like a time to build, but it was. Not perfectly. Not publicly. But faithfully.

In my journal, I wrote things like:
“Doing good should be the normal—even if no one praises me for it.”
“Sometimes I fall into a slump and have a hard time doing so. But I want to change.”

Those weren’t polished prayers. They were survival prayers. And somehow, they became the scaffolding for what I was building—quietly, imperfectly—even when it didn’t look like progress.

Practical

What are you waiting for?

For the finances to align?
For the childcare to appear?
For your confidence to return?
For confirmation from everyone else?

Maybe the “right time” isn’t later—it’s now.
Not because it’s easy. But because the instruction already came.

Start small. Start messy. Start sore.
But start.

Even when the future felt unclear, we still gathered. Still loved. Still showed up.

Closing Prayer

God, give me courage to build even when I feel tired.
To respond—not just when it’s convenient, but when it’s holy.

You’ve trusted me with more than I realize.
Help me be a faithful steward. A present mother. A thoughtful partner. A Spirit-led woman.

Don’t let me wait for things to settle before I move.
Let me move because You’ve already spoken.

Even when I feel slow. Even when I feel behind.
Make me faithful. Make me ready.

Amen.