This season of life is strange. I feel like a broken record, but I still can’t find the right words for the mix of chaos and monotony that fills my days.
One minute I’m rushing around—dinner burning, a toddler screaming, someone pooping, the dog chewing a prized possession in the corner… and five minutes later, everyone is quietly flipping through library books on the couch like a 1950s postcard, asking for second helpings of broccoli.
I pray for peace when the noise levels hit “OSHA violation,” and then turn right around and pray for patience as I trudge upstairs for the fifth pair of clean toddler pants that day. (Don’t ask how potty training is going. I don’t want to talk about it.)
In this season, I feel stretched. Stretched by school dress-up days and endless appointments. Stretched in relationships and calendars that look like Picassos. I often feel like I’m not enough—like I need to do more or like I’m letting people down.
But…
God keeps growing me in the stretching. Little by little, I’m becoming someone I wouldn’t have recognized a decade ago—someone I used to daydream about, with no real idea how to become her.
I’m finishing up Atomic Habits by James Clear. Before reading it, I assumed “atomic” meant explosive. Turns out, he means tiny. Small, almost unremarkable actions, repeated consistently, that eventually lead to explosive change.
In the last year, I’ve lost 10 pounds, built a gym habit, created a consistent early morning routine, become a (shockingly) faithful flosser, read through a large portion of my Bible, started scripture memory and intentional prayer time, read more books than I can count, and even made new friendships along the way… all while being a full-time mom to four littles and running a (mostly functional) household.
“How?” my younger self would asks, aghast. “Did we finally find the perfect system? The master list to rule them all? Develop superhuman discipline? Start illicit drugs??”
Nope. Nothing that dramatic.
I came to the end of my rope, realized I couldn’t do any of it on my own, cried out to God for help… and then I started small.
So. Stinking. Small.
I made a checklist with embarrassingly easy wins like “get out of bed” and “fill a water bottle.” I committed to reading just one verse a day. I found 10-minute YouTube workouts. I used silly apps with birds.
And slowly—so slowly at first—the changes started to stack up.
I don’t like waiting. When I want something to change, I want it now. Finger-snapping, jump-up-let’s-go energy. In the past, I’d go all in—do everything, immediately.
But that never fixed the systems that were broken underneath. After a few days (or weeks, if I was lucky), the motivation faded.
Go big… then go home.
But small changes? They sneak up on you.
How hard is it, really, to turn on a favorite playlist and tidy up for one song? To put on yoga pants instead of sweats in the morning—no pressure to exercise? To spend two minutes, and only two minutes, teaching your dog to sit and stay after lunch?
And yet here I am, months later, with a cleaner house, stronger body, and better-behaved dog… so grateful that this time, I started small.
So if you’re struggling in one area—or ten like I was—I hope this encourages you:
First, try to see seasons of stretching and discomfort as catalysts for growth. The thing you’re crying to your best friend about might actually be something God is using to make you holy. Even when it really, really doesn’t feel like it.
Second, before you make your plans, commit them to God. Ask for His guidance, His help, His blessing. He wants to be with us and give us good things—we just forget to ask.
And finally, start small. Ridiculously, laughably small. Ask your favorite AI bot, poll your friends, read Atomic Habits, and see how tiny a change you can make… then make it smaller.
And then be patient as those little things grow into something so much bigger.
With love,
Kelsey
Miracles Enough 