Trying to earn a degree while parenting a toddler feels like studying for finals… in a bounce house… during a food fight.

So here I am — a college-enrolled, Jesus-chasing, over-caffeinated mama — sitting down to do some very important, very adult online coursework. The goal? Watch an educational video on microphone diagrams and sound systems (which, by the way, is more complicated than it sounds), take meticulous notes, and feel like the responsible woman of wisdom I’m trying to be.

I even had my notebook open. I had tabs neatly organized. I had earbuds in and coffee within reach. I was ready.

Y’all.

I blinked.

And suddenly… everything had changed.

Somewhere between cardioid polar patterns and frequency responses, my toddler staged a full-blown hostile takeover of both my workspace and my will to live.

He climbed on me like I was a piece of playground equipment designed by Fisher-Price and blessed by Satan himself. He un-paused NumberBlocks on my other screen (which I hadn’t even opened?!) and, using some kind of demonic toddler sorcery, managed to rename my partially written essay to:

“aaaaaafghjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj.”

Yes, that’s the actual file name now. My son is clearly writing in tongues.

So now I’m sitting there, trying to remember what a unidirectional mic is, while Numberblock 4 is singing about square numbers, and I’ve got a child on my neck whispering “I’m a spider!” into my ear like some kind of tiny Sesame Street villain.

I’m typing half-sentences while also trying to prevent him from drawing a Sharpie mural on the dog’s tail. At one point, he asked if my laptop could microwave his goldfish crackers.

This was not the peaceful learning environment I envisioned.

And that’s when it happened.

Right there, in the holy mess of goldfish crumbs, erased paragraphs, and the fourth repeat of “This is how you make the number ten,” I felt it.

Jesus.

Not in a cloud parting, angel-choir-singing, Bible-on-fire moment. No.

More like a whisper. A breath.
A gentle:

“Hey. I see you.”
“You’re still doing it.”
“This matters too.”

Because maybe it wasn’t about understanding microphone diagrams today. Maybe it wasn’t about finishing the perfect essay or acing the quiz or feeling like I’ve got a handle on all the things.

Maybe today was about showing up — in the mess, in the middle of motherhood chaos, in a house that smells like peanut butter and crayon regret — and still choosing to grow.

Still choosing to try.

Still choosing to worship.

Because here’s the truth I keep forgetting until God reminds me in the middle of the madness: He doesn’t need a tidy desk and a child-free hour to meet me.

He meets me in the madness.

When I’m multitasking meltdown management and Moodle submissions.
When I’m too exhausted to read another chapter, but I still whisper, “God, help me.”
When I’m in full survival mode, but I keep showing up anyway.

That’s where Jesus shows up.
Not in my perfection.
But in my persistence.
In my surrender.
In the little whisper moments where I remember I’m not doing this alone.

So yeah — maybe I didn’t finish that essay.
Maybe I’ll have to rewatch that video five more times.
Maybe I now have a Word doc titled “aaafghjghj” permanently saved on my desktop.

But I also have a Savior who sees me, loves me, and meets me in the middle of NumberBlocks marathons, toddler jungle gyms, and chaotic Google Docs.

And somehow… that’s enough.

Moral of the story:

Online college as a mom isn’t just a hustle.
It’s a spiritual marathon — and Jesus is running it with you.

Also, yes: NumberBlocks kind of slaps by episode three.
You’re welcome.

#HolyHotMessSundays #FaithInTheChaos #ToddlersAndTermPapers #JesusTakeMyMouse #2MomothyIsRealToMe