#notafailure

Though Elise was nothing but an optimist, she was finding very quickly that optimism sometimes didn’t help when navigating unknown streets. In short? The princess was lost. She was trying to direct herself to where her housing was, but constantly was she getting mixed up, taking the wrong path to where the train station was.

She was starting to get incredibly frustrated and when she realized she made another wrong turn, the girl stomped her foot and gave a loud huff.

     “Ugh! This city is so confusing!”

With another huff leaving her mouth, Elise drew her leg back and kicked a rock… right into the back of some poor passerby. Once the rock made impact, Elise gasped and ran right towards the person.

Scott was ready to fight, even if his sword wouldn’t come to him! He wasn’t about to give up just because of a bunch of absolutely terrifying monster creatures! That is, until he watched one disintegrate half a building. What was he fighting for again? Nothing? Sounds like a good time to run.

Scott ran for nearly ten minutes before collapsing in the safest area he could find, almost sure he was alone. It seemed like a nice enough hiding place that no one was using... or, if someone was there, he was currently too busy heaving like he was about to throw up trying to catch his breath to notice anyone.

GRACE UPON GRACE

Last night, I failed. But I am not a failure.

I failed at being patient. I failed at self-control. I failed at reassuring my daughter in herself and in her work. But I did not fail my daughter.

As a mother who wants the best for her children, who wants to see them become all that heaven has declared them to be, the head and not the tail, I sometimes realize I can be too hard on them when it comes to schoolwork. I’ve realized that there is a fine line between being present and supportive and becoming so overwhelmed that your child freezes in fear.

What should take average 5–15 minutes of doing homework was stretching well into 2–3 hours. To me, the work seemed simple. But standing in front of a mother who feels intimidating, a child doesn’t focus on the homework; her focus is on whether she’s about to get it wrong or not. She’s not wrestling with the work itself she’s wrestling with fear.

And that realization broke me.

I don’t want my children to be afraid of me. I want them to honor the God in me, but never shrink in fear of my reactions.

 “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” ‭‭1 John‬ ‭4‬:‭18‬ ‭ESV‬‬

In a moment of honest self-evaluation, I had to admit something painful: my approach was hurting my daughter more than helping.

Two days prior to this particular homework setting, I had already felt the frustration building. That night, after hours of trying, I laid in my bed and sobbed. I wept because I couldn’t figure out how to help my child. I searched Google. I searched ChatGPT. I broke the work down into its simplest form and Nothing worked. She stood there with a blank stare, as if she didn’t understand anything I was saying to her and I felt helpless.

Eventually, I sent her to her room, grabbed my keys, and went on a drive. It was the blurriest drive of my life. I felt like I was failing as a parent and even questioned myself as an aspiring teacher and a founder of a teen girls ministry. How could I teach and help others if I couldn’t teach my own daughter?

I reached out to trusted voices. Some just for a listening ear because I needed to vent. I needed to release the frustration in hopes of it helping me to feel better versus bottoming it all in. But I knew what they would say: They would reassure me in the area where I was spiraling because truth is I was.  “You are not a failure. You’re a good mother.” And while I appreciated the encouragement, the place I was in at that moment I wasn’t even capable of receiving anything because I was so torn and broken. After being able to clear my chest a bit with regard to the situation I realized what I needed most in that moment was wisdom. 

“If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1‬:‭5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

That night I after I got back home I prayed and asked God to give me what is necessary to help my child. After prayer and a restless night, I tried again the next morning. Swollen eyes. Rested body. Different headspace, or so I thought.

But frustration resurfaced.

I found myself now shouting affirmations: “You’re smart! There’s nothing wrong with you! Just think!” Because in my head at least I’m encouraging her. Yet the problem wasn’t her thinking, It was my impatience.

I had to confront a hard truth: If someone reacted to me the way I was reacting to her, I would shut down too. So, Why was it acceptable for me to do that to my child?

In seeking God, I gained clarity. My daughter may simply be a different kind of learner. Her learning style isn’t one I’m used to but that doesn’t make her incapable. It means I must adjust. 

I often said I didn’t want to parent the way I was parented where punishment replaced support. Yet in my frustration, I was repeating a cycle in a different form. 

One thing I am not is too proud to admit when I’m wrong or to say that I need help. I need more patience. And this season has exposed that in ways I’ve never experienced before.

I reached out to a school counselor who offered reassuring and practical guidance. I’ve scheduled meetings to explore testing to better understand how my daughter learns. I’m even praying about placing her in an environment that better supports her learning style if necessary because I don’t just want her to survive, I want her to blossom. I also had to learn when to step away. To breathe. To come back later. The fruit I wanted would never grow from the seeds I was planting. So I apologized to her.

And that evening, I approached homework differently. I made it fun. I incorporated creative tools and even allowed a little TV to reinforce concepts. Was I perfect? No. There were moments I had to catch myself. Rome wasn’t built in a day. But awareness made all the difference.

This is a journey. And I am willing to walk it out fully.

I refuse to allow the enemy to build a wedge between me and my child.  I will rely on the Holy Spirit to make me her safe space not a place she resents. 

Breaking generational cycles isn’t passive work. It requires awareness, humility and Spiritual discernment. The enemy will fight hard to repeat what you’re trying to end. But I serve a God who reveals truth so I can walk in freedom.

I don’t want to spend my days helping other people’s daughters while mine feels unseen at home. So this isn’t just a mindset shift. It’s a heart shift. An intentional shift. I’m focusing on her love language. I’m speaking life over her. I’m creating affirmations not just for her, but for myself too. Because here’s what I know:

I may have failed in moments. But I am not a failure. And neither is my child. With God’s grace, I will extend grace to her and to myself. 

I rest confidently knowing I am doing my best while remaining open to growth. I am a great mother not because I never make mistakes, but because I am willing to see them for what they are and correct them.

And to the parent reading this who feels overwhelmed, frustrated, or inadequate take heart. You are not alone. You are not failing because you are struggling. The very fact that you care enough to reflect, to pray, to seek wisdom, and to try again speaks volumes about the kind of parent you are. Give yourself grace.

Parenting is not perfected overnight. It is refined in surrender. It is strengthened in humility. It is sustained by grace.

You are doing your best. And with God’s help, your best will keep growing.

Grace upon Grace. 

“For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.”