His pre-planned mercies make no mistake.

I heard the scream from downstairs:

“MOM! Dutch put an ANT on my cookie!”

And that was when I lost my mind. 

It had been a day. No, a week. No, a few weeks. And after lots of talks and tears and training and all that good stuff, we’d had a great day, the to-do’s were checked off, the day was coming to a close, bedtime was on the horizon, and I had zipped upstairs to grab laundry while they finished their dessert.

And then an ant. On the cookie. And when interrogated, the boy’s response is,

“What? It’s good source of protein.”

And with steam coming out of my ears I ranted and raved and did all the wrong things, and put the boy to work scrubbing floors and washing windows and folding laundry. Eventually, he repented, I softened, and the evening was redeemed, of course, but that night I couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming burden of so many things weighing on my mind. His recent inner struggles (being 10.5 and seeing how big and strong the other boys are becoming, while he stays small and gangly), plus the pressure of school’s end and feeling the crunch to finish, then my mental laundry list of all my loss-of-patience failures and wrong-responses–I tucked them in, then came upstairs and sunk to my knees beside the bed:

Help me, God. 

I poured it out:

“Sometimes I feel like I’m ruining them. Some days I think I do more harm than good. Certainly someone else would take the extraordinary raw material of Dutch and make something so much better than what I’m doing. I don’t feel like I’m the right mom for him. But I want to be. Please help me.”

And so I fell asleep.

The next morning I shuffled downstairs, groggy-eyed, for coffee. Jeff had come home late the night before, and had brought in the mail with him, and stacked it on the counter.

On the top of the pile was a hand-written card, to me.

I tore open the top, pulled out the card, and out slipped two stickers — two bright red car-window decals:

“DUTCH MOM.”

Tears.

You are the mom for Dutch. 

This faraway friend, the one I only see once a year at most, something made her (days before!), snag those stickers and write that long letter of encouragement for my heart, even though she had no idea how I felt, what was going on.

You are the mom for Dutch.

My mom had said it, before he was born. At my baby shower. She had said,

“Always remember that God chose you to be Dutch’s mom. No one else. So He will personally equip you to be the mom that Dutch needs. Never doubt that.”

And of course I have, because we do, and we all need that reminder that this is not a mistake.

This spot you’re in: No accident

This challenge you face: No coincidence.

This life you live: No mistake. 

Sure, we make mistakes, heavens yes! But you are not a mistake, and this situation you’re in, it’s not a coincidence.

He gently whispers,

“I haven’t cast the wrong girl for the role, you just need a bit more practice, Love.”

So, Despair–where is your power? Hopelessness–where is your sting? I stand in the sovereignty of God — the God who led a girl to mail stickers before I even needed them. The God who pre-plans His mercies so they arrive on our doorstep–on our countertop–right on time.

New mercies delivered up when we need them most.

So, my friend: Take courage. His pre-planned mercies will meet us in our time of need, and you’re not mis-cast in this role you’re in. Make no mistake about that.

{Praying for you this week! Thanks for reading.}