The kitchen was heavy with the smell of burnt bread and disappointment. Leah leaned against the counter, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes until stars swam behind her eyelids. Another ruined dinner. Another evening where frustration simmered into anger, leaving her heart sore and ashamed.
She had promised herself this morning would be different. She had prayed over coffee, whispered desperate words about peace and patience. But work calls ran over, the kids' homework was missing, and the weight of too many little things had tipped her day into chaos once again.
"Mom?" a small voice asked from behind her.
Leah turned to see her youngest, Emmy, clutching a slightly charred piece of toast in her little hand. She gave Leah a lopsided, hopeful smile. "I like it crispy."
Something small and aching cracked open inside Leah's chest. Emmy wasn’t angry. She wasn’t disappointed. She was simply here, loving Leah exactly as she was.
Leah knelt, taking Emmy into her arms, the toast squishing between them. Emmy giggled—a golden sound—and Leah could almost feel her breath catching on the edge of tears.
Self-control. The words settled on her spirit like a whisper. It wasn’t about bottling up her emotions until they exploded into flame; it was about inviting Jesus into the mess, letting Him stand between her and her quick temper, her sharp words, her fear of not being enough.
Later that evening, after her kids were tucked into bed and the house had exhaled into stillness, Leah curled into the corner of her worn-out couch with her Bible open on her lap. She found the verse she had bookmarked weeks ago but been too afraid to truly believe: "A person without self-control is like a city with broken-down walls." (Proverbs 25:28)
Her life had felt like that—a city whose walls were rubble, every frustration pulling down another stone. But there was hope buried in those ancient words too: walls could be rebuilt. With patience. With prayer. With God’s steady hand helping her lay one stone at a time.
Leah closed her eyes and whispered another prayer—this one not for a perfect day tomorrow, but simply for a heart fortified by His love and wisdom. She wouldn’t be rebuilding alone. Tears, warm and healing, slid silently down her cheeks.
In the lull of that moment, Leah felt it—a deep, tender peace slipping into the cracks of her weary soul. She wasn’t failing. She was learning. Growing. Leaning.
And in that quiet, holy surrender, she understood: self-control wasn’t about being stronger or more disciplined by sheer force of will. It was about learning to let God lead her first—to surrender in trust rather than striving in fear.
Outside, a soft spring rain began to fall, tapping on the windows like a gentle benediction. Leah pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and smiled. Tomorrow would have its own troubles. Its own imperfect moments. But she would enter it, not alone, not defenseless, but hand-in-hand with the One who strengthens the weary and binds up the broken walls of the soul.
She wasn't merely surviving anymore. She was building—stone by stone, prayer by prayer—a life steady and strong in Him.
—
Bible Verses:
The kitchen was heavy with the smell of burnt bread and disappointment. Leah leaned against the counter, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes until stars swam behind her eyelids. Another ruined dinner. Another evening where frustration simmered into anger, leaving her heart sore and ashamed.
She had promised herself this morning would be different. She had prayed over coffee, whispered desperate words about peace and patience. But work calls ran over, the kids' homework was missing, and the weight of too many little things had tipped her day into chaos once again.
"Mom?" a small voice asked from behind her.
Leah turned to see her youngest, Emmy, clutching a slightly charred piece of toast in her little hand. She gave Leah a lopsided, hopeful smile. "I like it crispy."
Something small and aching cracked open inside Leah's chest. Emmy wasn’t angry. She wasn’t disappointed. She was simply here, loving Leah exactly as she was.
Leah knelt, taking Emmy into her arms, the toast squishing between them. Emmy giggled—a golden sound—and Leah could almost feel her breath catching on the edge of tears.
Self-control. The words settled on her spirit like a whisper. It wasn’t about bottling up her emotions until they exploded into flame; it was about inviting Jesus into the mess, letting Him stand between her and her quick temper, her sharp words, her fear of not being enough.
Later that evening, after her kids were tucked into bed and the house had exhaled into stillness, Leah curled into the corner of her worn-out couch with her Bible open on her lap. She found the verse she had bookmarked weeks ago but been too afraid to truly believe: "A person without self-control is like a city with broken-down walls." (Proverbs 25:28)
Her life had felt like that—a city whose walls were rubble, every frustration pulling down another stone. But there was hope buried in those ancient words too: walls could be rebuilt. With patience. With prayer. With God’s steady hand helping her lay one stone at a time.
Leah closed her eyes and whispered another prayer—this one not for a perfect day tomorrow, but simply for a heart fortified by His love and wisdom. She wouldn’t be rebuilding alone. Tears, warm and healing, slid silently down her cheeks.
In the lull of that moment, Leah felt it—a deep, tender peace slipping into the cracks of her weary soul. She wasn’t failing. She was learning. Growing. Leaning.
And in that quiet, holy surrender, she understood: self-control wasn’t about being stronger or more disciplined by sheer force of will. It was about learning to let God lead her first—to surrender in trust rather than striving in fear.
Outside, a soft spring rain began to fall, tapping on the windows like a gentle benediction. Leah pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and smiled. Tomorrow would have its own troubles. Its own imperfect moments. But she would enter it, not alone, not defenseless, but hand-in-hand with the One who strengthens the weary and binds up the broken walls of the soul.
She wasn't merely surviving anymore. She was building—stone by stone, prayer by prayer—a life steady and strong in Him.
—
Bible Verses:
