This has been one of those weeks where I’m not entirely sure where to begin. So much happened in such a short amount of time that it all blends together—moments of joy, fear, exhaustion, responsibility, and God’s steady faithfulness woven through it all. By the end of the week, one truth became clear: I was never meant to hold everything together. I am meant to lean on the One who holds it all.
The week began with a mix of celebration and longing. Our youngest granddaughter turned one on Thursday. She lives across the country, and although we FaceTime often, not being there on her birthday tugged at my heart. Still, God sent a sweet blessing when I woke up Friday to discover that my son’s dad and his wife had flown out to California to surprise them. Even when I can’t be present, God finds a way to surround the people I love with care. And with my own trip booked for March, I’m counting down the days.
All week, my heart was also heavy with concern for my adult son, who gave us a tremendous scare when he landed in the ICU last week. He is improving, and I’m incredibly grateful, but a mother’s concern doesn’t end when the crisis does. It lingers quietly behind every text, every call, and every prayer.
Wednesday brought its own emotional strain. After a long day of work, I picked up our van from its first repair visit and spoke with a fellow board member on the way. During that conversation, I finally voiced something I’d been avoiding; I am overwhelmed. I am active in my family, my church, and my community, and while those things bring me joy, I struggle with personal boundaries. I want to be helpful and make a difference, but I often take on more than I can reasonably carry. After much prayer, I made the difficult decision to step back from one of the boards I serve on—a small but necessary step toward caring for myself in a healthier way.
Then came Thursday, which brought more than its share of challenges. Our seven-year-old granddaughter, who lives with us, woke up sick. Both Randy and I had to work, so I immediately shifted into childcare-scramble mode—making calls, rearranging plans, and trying to ensure she was taken care of before I even left the house.
That same day, I had volunteered to take a long work errand, driving more than two hours each way to pick up parts for a downed machine. I offered because I didn’t want to pull anyone else away from their tasks, and honestly, I thought the long drive might be a good chance to breathe, listen to a book, and reset.
When I went out to start the van, it immediately shut off. The second attempt resulted in a loud roar and the strong smell of gasoline filling the interior. I stepped out and saw a pool of gasoline forming beneath the driver’s side.
I spent the next hour on the phone with my husband and the dealership. My husband brought me his vehicle so I could complete my errand and the dealership had our van towed into the shop.
Yesterday, in the middle of everything, I was frustrated more than anything. It wasn’t until today—after the adrenaline wore off, after the busyness settled for a moment—that the reality hit me:
I could have been in real danger. I could have died.
A spark could have changed everything, and I hadn’t truly let myself process that until now. And when the realization finally sank in, so did the gratitude—because even when I wasn’t paying attention, God was protecting me.
Thursday evening brought one more unexpected turn. I co-teach a class through the United Methodist Church Greater Detroit District on Tuesday and Thursday nights this month. Earlier in the day, during my long drive, someone had kindly given me a heads-up that my co-teacher might not be able to attend. I appreciated that call, because when class began, it ended up being just me teaching. It wasn’t a problem—the class went beautifully—it was simply another unexpected piece added to a very full day.
By the end of the night, as I finally sat still and reflected, I could feel the weight of the entire week: the worry for my son, the sick child at home, the frightening van incident, the long work expectations, the unexpected teaching responsibilities, and the emotional strain of recognizing just how much I tend to overextend myself.
Yet even in all of that, I could trace God’s presence—quiet, steady, protective, and near.
Through every moment of this week, He kept whispering the same reminder to my heart:
“I never give you more than I can handle.
Lean on Me.”
Not on my strength.
Not on my schedules.
Not on my desire to serve.
Just Him.
And this week reminded me, once again, that I don’t have to hold everything together.
I just must lean on the One who already holds it all.
📖 Scripture for This Week
Psalm 55:22 (NIV)
“Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you;
he will never let the righteous be shaken.”
🙏 Closing Prayer
Father, thank You for walking with me through every moment of this week—through the unexpected, the overwhelming, the frightening, and the joyful. Thank You for protecting me, for strengthening me, and for reminding me that I was never meant to carry life alone. Help me to trust Your strength over mine and to lean into Your care with every burden and every blessing. Teach me to set healthy boundaries and to depend fully on You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Moments of Devotion 
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