What Makes My Kids Cry Today

Subtitle: Finding Sacred Stillness in the Middle of the Chaos

It always starts the same.

One sock is missing. Someone doesn’t like their breakfast. The toddler needs a last-minute diaper change. You’re five minutes behind, and the school line waits for no one.

You pull into the drop-off lane—heart racing, coffee half-drunk, your mind already racing through the day’s to-do list—and for a second, you wonder:

“Is this what motherhood is supposed to feel like?”

Chaotic. Loud. Tense.

But then—just as the car door swings open and little feet hop out—

you whisper a name:

“Jesus, be here.”

🛑 The Car Line Is a Sanctuary

It doesn’t look like church.

It doesn’t feel like a retreat.

But there in the school drop-off line, you are parenting on holy ground.

The car becomes your chapel.

The breath you take is your offering.

The prayer you whisper is enough.

Jesus is not waiting for your schedule to slow down.

He’s not disappointed in your distracted prayers.

He’s riding shotgun—present, patient, unbothered by the mess.

🚸 He Sees the Holy in the Hustle

He sees the way you hold it all together when you’re unraveling on the inside.

He sees your guilt for rushing the goodbye hug.

He sees the tenderness behind the “Have a good day!” even when you feel worn out.

Jesus isn’t just in the quiet moments before the house wakes up.

He’s in the honking, the backpacks, the spilled cereal, the traffic, the tension.

“Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it.” — Genesis 28:16

You don’t need a perfect moment to meet with God.

You just need a heart that turns—even briefly—toward Him.

🌤 A Simple Prayer for the Drop-Off Line

“Jesus, go with them today.

Walk with them into the classroom.

Be the calm I couldn’t give them.

And be with me too—here in this car,

In this moment, in this breath.”

Amen.

💛 Mama, you’re not alone.

You are seen.

You are doing the best you can.

And Jesus is already ahead of you—waiting at the school doors,

holding space in the drop-off line,

and whispering back, “I’m here.”