It’s hard to think of yourself as a grown-up when you still harbor a secret liking to Peanut Butter Capt’n Crunch, but nevertheless, I have a lot of responsibility on my shoulders. I hear it all the time whenever I’m in public with my crew, a nice stair-stepped looking bunch of rascals. “You have your hands full,” they’ll say.

Depending on how long it’s been since naptime/snacktime/give-mom-a-break-time, I’ll smile sweetly and beam, “Yes, and my heart is full as well!” I won’t tell you what I mutter under my breath if it’s been too long since breakfast. That’s between me and Jesus, but I tell you, it’s not pretty.

One of my heros, missionary Amy Carmichael, wrote, “Don’t imagine that by crossing the sea and landing on a foreign shore and learning a foreign lingo you ‘burst the bonds of outer sin and hatch yourself a cherubim.’ ” No, dying to self is a daily thing. Just as crossing the sea doesn’t make a holy missionary, birthing a child won’t make one patient, kind, and loving. I know this.

Relying on Jesus and casting oneself on His mercy is the only way to fight that sinful nature. He is not a vending machine, waiting for our order, but rather, a tender God who loves to pour out good gifts to those who ask. Ask for mercy; ask for the baby to stop crying; but above all, remember to ask for wisdom as well.

Sometimes His good gifts are found in the word of an encouraging friend, in the Scripture, or in the circumstance of your husband coming home from work early. And if we wanted to get real technical…even in a bowl of Capt’n Crunch. However His mercy is shown toward you today, thank Him for it—and then ask for more!

Turn to me and have mercy on me,
as you always do to those who love your name.
Direct my footsteps according to your word;
let no sin rule over me.
~Psalm 119:132-133