The boys were in the sunroom doing what boys do best – making a mess that somehow multiples the longer you pretend it doesn’t exist.

I was half-working on my computer, half staring at the screen, with worship music playing in the background. Nothing special. Just noise to fill the chaos. If I’m being honest, most days the music is just that – background noise while I survive motherhood.

I’ve heard these songs a hundred times. But then That’s Who I praise came on…. and for some reason, I stopped.

Not a dramatic stop. Just a pause. The kind that sneaks up on you when you’re already tired and not really in the mood to be convicted at 1:30 on a random Wednesday.

The lyrics talk about dancing like David, having faith like Paul, singing like Silas until prison walls fall, walking through fire like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, and stepping into the waves like Moses – fully trusting that God will provide.

And instead of just singing along, I found myself asking:

What did that actually look like?

What did Silas look like, singing in a prison instead of spiraling? What does “faith like Paul” look like in real life – as a mom? Moses didn’t know the water would part. He walked anyway. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego didn’t wait for proof – they walked straight into the fire believing God would be with them, no matter the outcome.

I know these stories aren’t meant to be taken literally – like I’m not going to walk into fire or go stand at water and wait for it to part – but still. They hit hard.

But do I actually live like I trust Him?

And then there’s the part I think a lot of us quietly wrestle with.

I know what I’m supposed to do. Pray More – Read my Bible – Build the Routine – Do the Study – Be Consistent – Be Disciplined.

So I make a plan. This time I’m really going to do it.

And then…. Life happens.

I miss a day, or a week. The routine falls apart. I get tired. I mess up. And that sneaky little voice shows up right on cue:

“See? You’re not good enough.” “God can’t really use you.” “You weren’t meant for that kind of faith.”

So I retreat. Back to old habits. Back to survival mode. Anyone else?

Because I am burned out. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. Twinstead life feels loud and messy and very much not working the way it’s “supposed” to.

But standing there, listening to that song, I looked at my boys.

They were fed – They were loved – They were safe – They were indoors while everything else felt like chaos.

And I had to stop and go – Oh. Yeah. God already showed up. Not in some huge, dramatic miracle. But in everyday provision I was too tired to notice.

And then another thought hit me – one I wasn’t expecting.

My boys knows these songs. They hear the lyrics. They watch me sing along. They watch how I handle the hard days. They watch how I talk about God when things feel heavy. They are learning what faith looks like by watching me try.

David didn’t know he’d be DAVID. Mary didn’t know her story would be told for generations. Moses didn’t know he’d be the example of faith we’d still talk about thousands of years later.

They were just ordinary people living their lives – trying to be faithful with what was right in front of them. And maybe that’s what we miss. We think faith has to look big to matter. But what if it starts small?

What if faith looks like letting your kids see you try again after a hard day? What if it looks like praising even when you don’t feel strong? What if it looks like trusting God out loud so they learn what trust sounds like?

For all I know, in my boy’s story, I might be the Moses. I might be the David. Not because I’m perfect – but because I kept walking even when the sea didn’t part right away.

I don’t need to be on a pedestal. But I also don’t want my kids to look back and say, “Yeah…. Mom didn’t really trust God through the hard stuff.”

So here’s what convicted me – and maybe it’ll hit you too:

What if we stopped disqualifying ourselves just because we feel ordinary? What if God isn’t looking for perfect faith – but available faith?

Here’s what I’m reminding myself (and maybe you need it too):

Stop trying to fix everything at once. Faith grows in small steps. Do the next right thing, not all the right things. Don’t confuse inconsistency with disqualification. Praise doesn’t have to be loud or polished – sometimes it sounds like, “God, I don’t have it today…. but I still trust You.”

Maybe faith like Paul doesn’t look like perfection. Maybe it looks like perseverance. Maybe seas don’t part instantly – But God still walks with us while we wait. And maybe being “ordinary” doesn’t mean being overlooked.

Because God doesn’t skip ordinary people. He builds stories through them. That’s who I praise. And that’s who I’m trying to be – one imperfect, faithful step at a time.