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📖 Verse & Story
2 Corinthians 10:12
“When they measure themselves by themselves and compare themselves with themselves, they are not wise.”
Peter walks on water
🚗💥 The Guilt Spiral Is Real
I know I’ve been away for a while. For a long while. Longer than I intended. (OK, three months, but that’s basically a lifetime in internet years.) But I was thinking this weekend about guilt and how it sneaks in, settles down, and starts rearranging your thoughts like it pays rent there.
Mom guilt is a whole other level—you know it. That gnawing feeling that you’re not enough… not present enough, not organized enough, not anything enough. And if you somehow manage to get one thing under control, something else immediately falls apart. So you end the day exhausted… and then—BAM—wife guilt. Because now the person you love most is getting whatever scraps are left of you, and sometimes those aren’t even scraps. They’re fumes.
🐣 Easter… But Make It Chaos
And then… there was Easter.
Normal Sunday is chaotic.
Normal Easter Sunday is chaotic.
But this year? This year was a special kind of crazy.
We’ve been visiting new churches, which already adds a layer of “everyone act right in a new place” pressure that never actually works out. So of course this is the Sunday we’re trying something new.
Cue the chaos.
Everyone up.
Easter baskets handed out (mistake).
Breakfast made.
Hair curled.
Bows fixed.
And for the love of all that is holy—
“Boy child, WHY is there still icing on your face?!”
I thought I was being smart—dress Monkey Boy last. Right before we walk out the door. Protect the nice Easter outfit Mamaw bought.
I chase him down. Pick him up.
And he is covered.
Chocolate.
Peeps.
And scented slime—which I absolutely believed was playdough when I bought it, so that feels like a personal betrayal.
Now I’m running a toddler to the shower in full Easter attire with 15 minutes to spare… and then I look down.
And there is… a situation.
A diaper situation.
A traveling situation.
Down my arm.
Because of course there is.
🎨 And It Keeps Going…
We make it to church. He gets wound up (shocking). A sweet nursery worker offers to take him.
Bless her.
After church, he comes running out—no shoes, no shirt. Apparently while the other children were painting birdhouses… he decided to paint himself.
As one does.
We finally get home, and the only thing I wanted—the only thing—was to use my nice Easter dishes and have everyone sit down together for dinner. Just one calm moment.
And instead?
Meltdowns.
Big ones.
Monkey Boy. Miss May. All of it.
And I’m standing there, in a kitchen that looks like Easter exploded in it…
in tears.
Cue the guilt.
🪞 The Real Source of the Guilt
And if I’m being honest, the guilt didn’t just come from the chaos.
It came from comparison.
From that quiet voice that says, “You should be able to do this.”
You should be able to pull off the perfect Easter.
You should be able to have the cute outfits, the clean house, the beautifully set table.
You should be able to be… that mom.
The Pinterest mom.
The one who somehow has smiling kids, matching outfits, a full meal, and zero slime incidents before 9 a.m.
Comparison will take your very real, very human, doing-the-best-you-can life… and hold it up against someone else’s highlight reel and call you lacking.
It will make you feel like everyone else is walking on water…
…and you’re just trying not to drown.
🌊 Where Peter Walks In
Which is exactly why I can’t stop thinking about Peter walks on water.
Peter actually was walking on water. He stepped out of the boat and did the impossible. He was showing up. He was doing the thing.
And then he looked around.
He saw the wind.
He felt the waves.
He noticed how unstable everything was.
And he started to sink.
Not because he wasn’t called.
Not because he wasn’t capable.
But because his focus shifted.
💡 Comparison Is the Distraction
That’s what comparison does.
It shifts your focus.
It takes your eyes off what God asked you to do and puts them on what everyone else seems to be doing better.
It whispers, “Look at them. Why can’t you be more like that?”
And suddenly, you’re not walking anymore.
You’re sinking.
Not because you failed…
…but because you started measuring.
And 2 Corinthians 10:12 is so clear—when we compare ourselves to each other, we lose wisdom. We lose perspective. We lose joy.
Comparison doesn’t motivate you.
It drains you.
It steals the joy right out of the moment you were actually living.
🧡 The Grace in the Middle of It
And here’s the part I need you to hold onto:
When Peter started sinking, Jesus didn’t stand back and say,
“Wow. You should’ve done better.”
He didn’t compare him to anyone else.
He didn’t shame him for losing focus.
He reached out.
Immediately.
🚘 Final Carpool Thought
So yeah… Easter didn’t look like the picture in my head.
The table wasn’t perfect.
Dinner didn’t happen the way I wanted.
There was slime. And… other things.
But I showed up.
I loved my people in the middle of the chaos, kept going when it would’ve been easier to check out.
That’s not failure.
That’s stepping out of the boat.
So the next time guilt creeps in and starts whispering comparisons, remember:
You don’t have to be the Pinterest mom.
You don’t have to keep your eyes on everyone else.
You just have to keep your eyes on Him because He’s already reaching for you.
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