Finding God in Midst of Bad Day in God Moments

Today was a bad day on the solo parenting front. The day started with a text from my best friend Rena stating that she wasn’t coming to church due to a bad migraine. This doesn’t seem like a big deal, but Rena is a Sunday school teacher, youth leader, event organizer, and go to person at our small church. She’s overwhelmed and I had agreed to assist her with Sunday school today, with the intent of it being a permanent thing. My kid and I just started going to church with her about a month ago, and today was also the day we officially joined and were introduced to the congregation. So I ended up teaching her Sunday school class by myself, feeling totally unprepared and unqualified. It ended up being not so bad since it was just my kid and one other kid today. But.... that’s just the start of my bad day.
After my anxiety was worked up after receiving the text from Rena, I’m running behind on getting out of the door knowing I really can’t be late today, and I tell my not quite 4 year old son to go get dressed while I do the same. He reaches for his beloved Superman costume and I tell him, no he cannot go to church dressed as Superman on the day we are being formally introduced as new members. He proceeds to have a meltdown over this tragic news while I’m still in my bathrobe 10 minutes before I need to be there. Thank God we live like 2 mins away. Then in the few minutes between Sunday school and service, he tells me he needs to go potty. Normally this is a quick matter, but today he was highly upset about being forced to go into the women’s room with mommy instead of the “boys bathroom” aka men’s room. Rena’s much older son has taken my son, Willliam to the men’s room at church once before and now William doesn’t want it any other way. So for what felt like an eternity I stood with my child attempting to explain why it was ok that he use the women’s room, but not ok for me to go into the men’s room. THIS SUCKED. He eventually goes after I bribe him with the promise of ice cream when we get home and we walk into the sanctuary late. He’s pestering me for a snack and I look in my purse to see if I have any, only to find a crumbled up granola bar. I tell him he will have to be ok until we get home, but the minute I bow my head along with the group prayer he reaches for the months old granola bar, manages to get it open and sends crumbs everywhere. And he’s tugging on my dress revealing my bra. Wonderful.
So we get home after the usual struggle to get him buckled in his car seat, have a quick lunch of reheated tacos, play outside for a few minutes, and attempt to take a nap. Good lord I needed a nap, but it was a failed attempt. After a good hour and a half or so of laying down with him, only to have him climb all over me, play with my glasses, ask a million questions etc, I give up. Now we needed to go to the store, because we have nothing to eat for dinner and more importantly the house contains no diet mountain dew. This required doing a little cleaning, because trying to put an armful of grocery bags on cluttered/dirty counters really sucks. Of course this takes longer than it should because everything takes longer than it should with a toddler in tow.
Long story short, I’m getting really depressed. I’m so over doing everything alone, feeling like I’m not good enough, wondering why God gave me such a high energy child when I’m not the most high energy person. It’s been a while since I’ve had suicidal thoughts, but they are starting to creep back into my mind. I had been letting a few tears slip out throughout the day, but knew that I didn’t want to break down in front of him if I could avoid it. So I go about my day and cook dinner. Tried something new and it turned out great. The weather is beautiful here in Tennessee so we ate outside. I finally sit down to enjoy my food as my mood is gradually improving. This is when my beautiful smiling little boy looked up at me as he’s eating and says “the chicken is so good mommy, thank you for cooking.” My heart completely melted and I knew it had to be a God thing. God used my child to steer my mind away from the dark place and to remind me that I am loved. The last time I was feeling this down, Rena knocked on my door unexpectedly and gave me a shoulder to cry on. Maybe I can do this. One day at a time. I hope and pray that some day in the near future, I will feel like I’m thriving again and no longer just surviving.