The Broken Bone
This week has stretched me thin. Between sports, school, a husband out of town, and an unexpected ER visit, by Thursday my cup felt more than a little empty.
On Wednesday night, I was coaching a volleyball game for my daughter’s 3rd grade team. Wyatt had been dropped at football practice while Emma and I went to the gym for her second game of the season. Everett tagged along too, since my husband was away on a work trip (to Hawaii!) and I needed to keep all the kids close.
Around 7:15 p.m., after the game ended, we ventured back to the football field where I quickly noticed Wyatt crying frantically. He said he couldn’t move his arm without pain. I wasn’t sure if it was just a hard hit or something more serious, so we waited about 15 minutes before I made the executive decision to risk an ER trip at 8 o’clock at night—with three kids, on a school night.
Two and a half hours later, after paperwork, X-rays, and juggling three children in a waiting room, we learned he had a broken collarbone. We didn’t get home until almost midnight, and by then I felt completely drained. We all collapsed into my king-sized bed and slept in until just before school.
The following morning was another whirlwind—getting the little kids to school, rushing Wyatt to his follow-up at Shriners Fracture Clinic, and filling out more paperwork. Thankfully, he won’t need surgery; at his age, the bone should heal on its own. The downside: he’s benched for the rest of the season.
Community & God's Grace
After appointments, I met a dear friend for lunch. She graciously pointed out that I didn’t have to take all three kids to the ER by myself—that I could have asked for help. She was 100% correct. But in my mind, at 8 p.m. and 45 minutes from the nearest ER, “asking for help” didn’t even feel like an option. Besides, I didn’t feel like I knew anyone within a 10-minute commute who could’ve watched the younger kiddos so I could take him to the ER. I knew she would have driven to meet me – but again it was late and her drive was well-over 45-minutes … I slipped into crisis management mode, boots strapped tight, charging forward because I thought it was the only way.
That experience reminded me how desperately I need community. I don’t have to do it all on my own—even though I often try.
Thursday evening, God showed me His provision.
Honestly, I didn’t want to take Wyatt to football practice. My son was injured and wouldn’t be able to play, I was exhausted, and the couch was calling my name. But the kids wanted to see their friends, so we went.
And here’s the part that gets me—if I had stayed home, I would have missed out on God’s provision through community.
As I stood there, arm-in-sling son at my side, a group of young moms invited me into their circle. As our little kids ran circles around us, they asked about my eldest’s injury, listened to the story, and when they realized I had taken all three kids to the ER alone because my husband was out of town, they each offered me their phone numbers. “Call me next time—don’t do it alone,” one said.
Another mom chimed in: “We’re here almost every day after school because our kids have sports. Come join us.”
It was such a simple gesture, but it felt like a lifeline. Several other football parents checked in too, asking how my son was doing and offered help in the future should I need it.
In those moments, I realized something important: community often shows up when we least expect it, but only if we’re willing to show up too.
These three gracious interactions were gentle reminders that I needed to dig in deeper to my community and be unafraid to ask for help when an emergency arises. (And, perhaps to modify what my definition of an emergency is, as well).
Abiding in the Vine
Earlier in the week, while harvesting tomatoes and cucumbers at VOTF, I noticed that some of the best fruit was hidden deep within the plant, tucked close to the vine under layers of foliage. At first glance, you might think the plant wasn’t producing much. But the deeper I looked, the more good fruit I found. Not just good fruit – BIG fruit. Fruit that was thriving and living in abundance.
While writing this post, it struck me that our faith—and our lives—work the same way. Staying close to the Vine (Jesus) is where the fruit really is (John 15:4–5). It’s not always out in the open or easy to see, but when we press in—through prayer, Scripture, or even through showing up at football practice when we’d rather be home—we find abundance and nourishment we would’ve missed otherwise.
This week was hard. My son is injured but healing. I’m tired. My husband is away. But God reminded me of two truths:
- The best fruit is found when we stay close to the Vine.
- We were never meant to do this alone—He gives us community to help carry the load.
I know this scripture is a call for followers to lean into Him. I believe He used football practice to bless me with a group of parents who saw me and genuinely wanted to lean in to support us. I believe God is so good.
The Irony
And here’s the irony: I started Graceful Hearth with the intention of offering a space for moms to gather around my proverbial hearth—for community, connection, grace, and fellowship. A place where no mother would feel like she had to do it alone.
Yet this week, I found myself physically doing it alone.
That contrast cut deep—but it also reminded me why this space matters. We all need those reminders, and sometimes the very thing we set out to create for others is the thing God is also gently teaching us.
I don’t know what your week has looked like, but maybe you’ve felt stretched thin too. My prayer is that you’ll press in close to Jesus and not be afraid to let others step in alongside you. The fruit is worth it.
My prayer for you this week, is that you dig deeper into the word and prune out anything that’s separating you from the Vine.
Until next time, friends. Be blessed.
