Grace in the Chaos: How 2024 Taught Me to Let Go and Trust.

At the beginning of 2024, I felt ready to take on the world. My planner was full of goals, my vision board reflected a year of purpose and balance, and my heart was set on living out Proverbs 31—a woman of noble character, managing her household, loving her family, and excelling in her work. But as the weeks turned into months, I found myself grappling with a reality that no amount of planning could prepare me for: the overwhelming demands of motherhood, marriage, work, and everything in between.

I wasn’t just trying to balance spinning plates—I was juggling them, running on a tightrope stretched thin by expectations I’d placed on myself. And it wasn’t long before everything began to unravel.

The Overwhelming Weight of Expectations

It started subtly. My mornings became chaotic, filled with diaper changes, breakfast spills, and hurried prayers whispered in the bathroom between brushing my teeth and wiping sticky toddler hands. My afternoons were swallowed up by work deadlines, emails that demanded immediate responses, and the endless hum of “just one more thing” to finish.

By the time evening came, I felt torn. My husband deserved my attention, my child wanted my presence, and the house—oh, the house—seemed to conspire against me with its unwashed dishes and laundry that multiplied overnight.

There were days when I’d sit on the kitchen floor, completely overwhelmed, whispering, Lord, I can’t do this anymore. I felt like I was failing at everything. I wasn’t the attentive wife I wanted to be. I wasn’t the patient mother I longed to emulate. And I certainly wasn’t the organized, thriving professional I had envisioned at the start of the year.

The hardest part was the guilt. I would lie awake at night, replaying the moments I’d snapped at my child for spilling juice or the way I’d cut short a conversation with my husband because I was too tired to engage. Is this what “having it all” looks like? I wondered.

The Breaking Point

One evening in March, everything came to a head. I had just finished a long work call while trying to soothe a crying toddler and stir a pot of soup that was threatening to boil over. My husband walked into the kitchen, visibly drained from his own long day, and asked, “How are you?”

I wanted to answer honestly, but instead, I snapped, “I’m fine,” in a tone that clearly said I wasn’t. The look on his face broke me.

That night, after everyone was asleep, I sat in the dark living room and cried. It wasn’t just exhaustion—it was the weight of feeling like I was failing the people I loved most. My to-do list had become a tyrant, and I realized I was trying to pour from an empty cup.

Through my tears, I whispered a desperate prayer: Lord, I need You. I can’t do this alone.

Learning to Let Go

That moment of surrender became the turning point for me. Over the weeks that followed, God began teaching me a powerful lesson: I was never meant to do it all in my own strength.

In Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest… For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Those words became my anchor. I realized I had been carrying burdens that weren’t mine to bear—expectations of perfection, self-sufficiency, and control.

I began to let go.

Letting go looked like asking for help, something I had always struggled with. I started leaning on my husband more, delegating chores and sharing my struggles with him instead of bottling them up. It looked like giving myself permission to rest, even if the laundry wasn’t folded or the kitchen wasn’t spotless. And it looked like prioritizing time with God, even if it was just five minutes of quiet prayer during naptime.

Grace in the Small Moments

As I leaned into God’s grace, I began to see it everywhere—in the giggles of my child as we played together, in the quiet moments of connection with my husband, and even in the mundane tasks of folding clothes or preparing meals.

One evening, after a particularly busy day, my husband and I sat on the couch, both exhausted but grateful to simply be together. He took my hand and said, “I know it’s hard, but you’re doing such a good job.”

In that moment, I realized how much I had been missing by focusing on what I wasn’t doing perfectly. My family didn’t need perfection—they needed presence. They needed a wife and mother who showed up, imperfections and all, trusting God to fill in the gaps.

A Lesson in Priorities

By mid-year, I began to reevaluate my priorities. I realized that I had been saying yes to too many things that didn’t truly matter, leaving little room for what did. I started setting boundaries at work, protecting my time with my family. I created small, manageable routines for the household instead of striving for an unattainable ideal.

Most importantly, I learned to anchor my day in prayer. Every morning, I would sit with my coffee and simply say, Lord, guide me today. Help me to see what truly matters and to let go of the rest.

It wasn’t a perfect system—there were still messy days and moments of frustration—but I began to feel a peace that I hadn’t experienced before.

Strength in Surrender

As the year drew to a close, I looked back on 2024 with a mix of exhaustion and gratitude. It had been one of the hardest years of my life, but also one of the most transformative.

God had taught me that strength isn’t about doing it all—it’s about surrendering it all to Him. It’s about trusting that His grace is sufficient, even when I feel inadequate. And it’s about recognizing that the greatest ministry I have is within the walls of my own home.

An Invitation to Reflect

As you reflect on your own year, I encourage you to think about the moments that stretched you. Maybe, like me, you’ve faced seasons of feeling overwhelmed, pulled in a thousand directions. But I want to remind you of this truth: You don’t have to do it all.

God’s grace is sufficient for you. His power is made perfect in your weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9). So, let go of the need to be perfect. Show up for the people you love. And trust that He will fill in the gaps.

As I step into 2025, my prayer is simple: Lord, help me to rest in You, to love well, and to trust You with the rest. Because in the chaos of motherhood, marriage, and work, I’ve learned that His grace truly is enough.

And if you ever doubt your worth or feel like you’re falling short, remember this: Jesus loves you. In every moment of exhaustion, in every victory, and in every failure, His love remains constant. You are seen, you are loved, and you are enough—because He is enough.