Another day of horrific headlines left me wide-awake at 4am Thursday morning. I’ve done a good job of not truly feeling these sorts of events (out of self-protection) by only reading the headlines. But as I waited for my baby to fall back asleep, I clicked the story and began to feel the horror creep up and tighten my throat. Wednesday was dozens of parents’ worst nightmare. I tapped the baby monitor back to life to see both of my girls—safe and snuggled in their warm beds. I fought back feelings of wanting to cancel all our plans for the next 18 or so years, longing to protect them from the evil that raged in the world outside.
Only a few hours earlier a gas mishap in our home had us all displaced to our pickup, waiting for the flashes and sirens. The firefighters cleared the house in a few minutes and within the hour everyone was back in bed. Now as I tried to push away the gnawing temptation to dwell on the what ifs, I realized the irony of wanting to barricade my family in our little house on the prairie—it’s not perfectly safe here either.
I suddenly felt completely out of control.
And for a moment motherhood felt like a big joke—a horribly impossible job. I blinked back tears and contemplated waking my level-headed husband. I closed my eyes, and in God’s goodness, the first thing I saw was Ruby’s dedication from a few weeks back.
That day we proclaimed Ruby was Gods’ child, committed our lives to Him in raising her and prayed His purpose and plan would be fulfilled in her life. And while it was an easy decision to make, living out the part where I trust that God has her and she is His, requires much more than getting on a stage and saying some words. Trusting God with her life and that He loves her much more than I ever could requires a daily surrender. Requires that in moments like this, when the fear of raising these precious girls is suffocating, I turn to their true Father and ask for His peace and presence.
Exhale.
So today as I scrub the firefighter’s muddy tracks out of our rugs (I guess it’s not routine for them to take their boots off before entering a house 
) I’m praising God for the gift of children and the sweet privilege it is to raise and love them, but mostly for peace that is available when we partner with Jesus in this seemingly impossible task.
If you are like me, and at times the weight of watching pieces of your heart toddle or walk or drive (oh, dear Lord, no) out in the big scary world feels too overwhelming, let’s remember to invite God into our parenting. He keeps reminding me He knows a little something about loving children 
