The Gospel in the Crumbs (And the Closed Book)

 

There's a book on my nightstand I've been meaning to read. 

It's one of those rich, Gospel-filled reads I was excited to dive into. I told myself I'd start it this week. But that was... a few weeks ago. Okay, maybe longer. Even night I see it there— waiting quietly. Like the laundry. Like the dishes. Like the long list of "when I get a minute" things that come with new motherhood. 

But here's what I'm learning in this holy, sleep-deprived season:
The Gospel doesn't wait on me to turn a page. 

It finds me in the quiet hum of the bottle feeds.
In the tiny toes pressed against my side at 3 a.m.
In the grace I extend to myself when I choose rest over getting things done.
In whispered prayers that don't feel eloquent, but are deeply honest. 

I haven't read the book yet.
But the Gospel came to me anyway. 

 

It came in the mercy when I felt like I was falling short.
In the reminder that Jesus isn't measuring my worth by my Bible study completion rate.
In the truth that being a Gospel Mom isn't about having it all together—but about knowing Who holds it all together. 

So if you're like me—longing to go deeper, but living in the deep end of new motherhood life—you're not behind. You're beloved. You're not failing. You're faithfully showing up. 

And maybe, just maybe, the Gospel is in the crumbs.
The ones on the floor.
The ones on the counter.
The ones that somehow say, "God's grace is enough for today."

Even when the book stays closed.