Several years ago, I had one of those days—edgy, miserable, snapping at everything and everyone. Even the smallest things felt unbearable. I honestly don’t remember what started it, but emotionally, I was completely unraveling.

And then—the final straw: doggie poop in the backyard.

That was it. We’d already had a family meeting about this the month before. The deal was simple: our kids needed to take responsibility for cleaning up after our basset hound, no reminders, or we’d need to find him a better home. (Don’t judge me.)

With seven kids ranging from ages 3 to 17, surely someone could care enough to step up. But it had been four weeks, and only once had one of them cleaned up the poop on their own.

We’d already listed him in one classified ad and received two inquiries. But we also had a list of requirements for his next home—it had to be a clear upgrade—so we weren’t going to just give him away to anyone.

Still, on this particular day, I was done. Furious and overwhelmed, I sat at the computer and started typing up another ad to speed things along. My 14-year-old son walked in, saw me, and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Placing another ad for Charlie.”

“What?!” He was stunned. He couldn’t believe I was serious—let alone that this wasn’t my first ad. When he realized I wasn’t budging, he stormed out of the house, devastated. Naturally, I felt awful. Classic mom failure.

But a few days later, I saw how God used even my messy, emotionally fried state to accomplish something important.

The day I placed that ad, my 10-year-old son had been riding home from the park on a side street we rarely use. His pant leg got stuck in the bike chain. He was alone, trapped, and couldn’t get it out. That’s when my 14-year-old—just looking to escape his cranky mom—wandered into that random part of the neighborhood and just happened to find him. He freed his little brother and brought him safely home.

Now, I don’t think God purposely gets me angry just so he can stage a rescue mission. But I do believe he knows me—deeply—and understands how to work with and even through my weaknesses. And that realization has stayed with me: even when I’m at my worst, God is still in the details.

So maybe all isn’t lost when we feel like we’re failing. In fact, I’m convinced that some of our most “messed up” moments lead to more good than we ever realize.

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