When You’ve Had Enough: The Biblical Truth About Not Fixing It All

Y’all… if one more person asks me to fix one more thing, I’m going to scream.
Not a cute, Disney-princess-sings-through-the-forest scream.
No.
A feral mom who ran out of coffee and patience hours ago scream.

It’s that bone-deep exhaustion. The kind where your muscles feel like you ran a marathon even though the only running you did was after a toddler with no pants and a juice box. The kind where you briefly consider walking into the woods and letting everyone figure it all out without you.

And honestly? I think even God has felt this way.

The Morning It All Fell Apart (Because of Course It Did)

It started this morning before the sun even thought about waking up. It was picture day at one school and Christmas program day at another. Translation:
Every single human in this house needed to look like the polished, organized family we absolutely are not.

Hair had to be gelled.
Girls needed curls and bows.
Faces wiped.
Clothes ironed.
No pajama pants in the carpool line. No messy bun pretending to be a personality trait. Not today.

Shockingly, we were nailing it.
Two vehicles filled with kids, lunches made, everyone dressed, everyone clean.

I had just loaded my vehicle when I decided to run to the bathroom one more time (because five babies = approximately one functioning centimeter of bladder left). But when I walked back out…

There was Basketball Boy.
Crying.

Why?
He couldn’t find his shoes.

Excuse me, sir.
You have been awake for hours.
Sitting on the sofa for twenty minutes.
With no shoes.

What exactly was your plan here?
Were you going to lead your kindergarten class out of the building like Moses himself?
Part the Red Sea of Cubby Bins and walk them home barefoot?

Crisis solved. Shoes located. Tears mostly dried.

And then we arrive at the Christmas program… only to discover everyone else’s kids are dressed in Christmas clothes. Ours? In uniforms. Because apparently a memo was sent, and I, the Keeper of Calendars and Knower of All School Things, somehow missed it.

The other parents’ dirty looks were loud enough to qualify as a praise and worship set.
I wanted to curl up, disappear, and possibly fake my own death.

Then Came the Rest of the Day

A toddler out of his routine.
A whole day of work where every question could have been a text.
People complaining about things they absolutely do not understand.
And finally—my personal favorite—an end-of-day “emergency” at work caused by something not working simply because… well… that’s what technology does. It breaks. On purpose. To watch us suffer.

Then home:
“Mommy, I need tea.”
“Mommy, can I have a corn dog? I don’t like fish.”
“Mommy, where’s my…?”
And repeat. Forever.

By the time the house finally fell quiet, I just sat there thinking:
Why is everything my job to fix?

It Turns Out… God Gets It

There’s a story in the Bible that hit me square in my exhausted, over-functioning mom heart.

All throughout the Old Testament, God keeps rescuing His people—saving them, guiding them, fixing things they broke—and what do they do?

Break it again.
And again.
And again.

In Judges 10, God literally says:

“Go and cry out to the gods you have chosen. Let them save you when you are in trouble!”
(Judges 10:14)

Tell me that doesn’t sound like the spiritual version of
“You lost your shoes after I told you to put them on? Then you find them.”

It’s the moment where even God says,
“I love you, but I am tired of fixing what you keep breaking.”

Not because He doesn’t care.
Not because He wants them to fail.
But because sometimes the fixing isn’t actually fixing—it’s preventing growth.

Sometimes letting people sit in the consequences is the most loving thing He can do.

And moms?
We don’t like to admit it, but we need that lesson, too.

When We Try to Fix Everything, We Break Ourselves

Somewhere along the way, we start believing we must be the fixer of all things:

Shoes.
Lunches.
Schedules.
Work issues.
Feelings.
Snacks.
Broken systems we didn’t even break.

But God never asked us to carry what He Himself set down.

He didn’t fix everything.
He didn’t rush in every time.
He didn’t prevent every crisis.

Sometimes He let people struggle so they could learn, grow, or simply realize they couldn’t do life without Him.

Maybe We’re Allowed to Do the Same

Maybe it’s okay:

To let the kid find their own shoes.
To let the routine get messy without fixing it immediately.
To not solve the workplace emergency at 9 p.m.
To say, “I can’t do that right now.”
To rest.
To breathe.
To hand things back—just like God does.

Even Jesus stepped away from the crowds when He was overwhelmed.
Even He set boundaries.
Even He told people “not now.”

If the Son of God needed a moment…
your girl definitely needs one too.

Friend, You’re Not the Fixer of the World

You’re a mom.
A human.
A tired, stretched-thin, deeply loved daughter of a God who never asked you to carry it all.

Your job is not to solve every problem.
Your job is to be faithful in the moments God gives you—
even the ones where you miss the memo, forget the Christmas outfits, and threaten to walk into the woods.

He sees you.
He understands your frustration.
And He is not asking you to be everything for everyone.

Sometimes the holiest thing you can do is put down the fixer badge, take a deep breath, and say:

“Lord, they can come to You with this one.”

And then walk away—
shoes found, Christmas outfits wrong, tea requests incoming—
but heart lighter, because you finally remembered:

Even God didn’t fix it all.
And you were never meant to.

GUIDED PRAYER

Lord, I am tired.
Tired of being the fixer, the problem-solver, the one who holds everything together.
You see my frustration, my weariness, my longing for a moment where no one needs anything from me.

Teach me how to lay down what was never mine to carry.
Show me the difference between what I should fix… and what You’re asking me to step back from.
Help me trust that You are God and I am not — and that is good news.

Give me peace where chaos tries to take over.
Give me grace when I miss the memo or fall short.
And help me rest in the truth that You love me not for what I fix, but because I am Yours.

Amen.

DEVOTIONAL ACTION STEPS

1. Identify one thing you don’t need to fix.
A chore, a school issue, a work “emergency”—practice letting it be someone else’s responsibility today.

2. Take a 10-minute retreat (even if it’s in the bathroom).
Jesus withdrew often. You can too.

3. Give yourself permission to rest.
No guilt. No apology. Rest is holy.

4. Tell God one thing you’re carrying that feels too heavy.
Say it out loud or write it down. Then hand it back to Him.

5. Celebrate one win today.
Found the shoes? Made it to school alive? Bows stayed in?
Girl, that counts.

Carpool Chaos