Tea in My Mug

Tea in my mug, EJ sleeping on my side, Ryan and Rafael watching an episode of Super Sema. This is life!

I remember when I prayed for this. Is everything perfect? No. Not at all. But yooooh, what God has done is beyond my imagination.

There was a time when I was knee-deep in uncertainty, holding on to faith like a lifeline. I didn’t have the full picture, just blurry hopes and whispered prayers. I wanted peace. I wanted laughter in the living room. I wanted the kind of quiet that comes not from lack, but from contentment. I dreamt of the mundane: warm tea, giggles from the boys, a child asleep in my arms, and a home full of imperfect, beautiful life.

And now, here I am. Living in the very prayers I once cried over.

Motherhood is chaotic, let’s not lie. The house is never quiet for long, the laundry pile never quite goes away, and sometimes the tea gets cold before the first sip. But these moments? These little pockets of stillness in the storm? They are everything.

Sometimes we get so caught up chasing the next big thing that we forget to stop and acknowledge how far we’ve come. We forget that not long ago, what we have now was just a dream. That’s why I’m learning to pause, to drink my tea slowly, to soak in the soft breath of a sleeping baby, to let the sound of animated adventures in the background remind me that I’m not just surviving, I’m living.

No, life isn’t perfect. There are still unanswered questions, unfinished prayers, and challenges I wouldn’t post about. But grace meets me every morning, and joy shows up in the most ordinary moments. God didn’t give me everything I asked for, but He gave me what I truly needed, and so much more.

So, if you’re in the thick of it right now, juggling dreams and diapers, deadlines and doubts. I hope this reminds you: your “Super Sema” moment is coming. Maybe not exactly how you pictured it, but in a way that will make you sit back one day, smile at your mug of tea, and whisper, "This is life. And I remember when I prayed for this."

Hold on. God hears.