This morning we had to push the reset button.

From the morning my kids woke up, there were cries that echoed through the halls of our house. As I drug my feet down the halls to get their clothes for school, I already knew that my heart wasn’t in the right place, but onward I shuffled, figuring I would deal with it later.

No one could decide what they wanted for breakfast. One daughter’s socks were itchy, the other one’s “hair hurt” the way I had it pulled back into a pony tail. One got dressed and was too cold, the other was too hot, and my littlest one just wanted to be held and looked at the whole time.

But only while I was standing up. All crap was let loose if I sat down. I mean, really.

I tried to hold myself back by just keeping silent and mumbling under my breath, but soon my sighs turned into a loud shout. They cried and shouted back. Backpacks were thrown on the ground, as well as heads flung back like they were howling at the moon.

And tears streamed down all of our hot cheeks as we loaded into the van.

As we drove down the road in silence, tiny whimpers coming from the back seat, I looked into my rear view mirror, staring into their eyes and I was just undone. Because while their behavior and temper tantrums were uncalled for this morning, mine was just as bad. Because I’m the one who sets the tone for our mornings. I’m supposed to be the one who ushers in the peace of Jesus.

We came up to the stop sign and I was utterly broken by my sin. Shame washed over my whole body, and I gripped the sterling wheel tightly, embarrassed that I had even let the morning escalate as far as it did. “Let me redeem this,” I heard his voice whisper to my heart. “Let me take this broken morning and draw all of you nearer to me; let me make this beautiful.”

Putting the van into park, I turned around to my girls, “How about we press the reset button this morning?” Their little heads nodded, and as I put the van back into drive and turned the corner, I let his words become mine. “Dear God, this morning did not start the way we thought it would… but you are a God who loves to redeem what we think is too broken to fix… We invite you into this place and for you to bring your peace…”

I continued to pray on the way to school. And when we all said “Amen,” the peace of Jesus was felt all through the van. “I’m sorry’s” were said, “I love you’s” mumbled through tears, little smiles given as they waved goodbye. But the peace that was missing all morning should have been ushered in long before that van ride of regret and shame. But by God’s Grace, the morning wasn’t too broken for him to redeem.

Listen mamas, I know that mornings are hard. And grumpy. And sometimes filled with tears and words we wish we could take back. But we have the beautiful, challenging, life-giving responsibility to bring Jesus into them. So tomorrow morning, before the fit hits the shan, take a few moments to ask Jesus into your morning. Make the choice to mother intentionally with the peace of Jesus. And always, always remember that there isn’t a messy morning too far gone for him to make beautiful. And it’s never too late to press the reset button.