The evening air is cool, a relief after the mid-summer heat wave. My fifteen-month old toddles around the living room, jabbering non-stop, an awkward piggy tail sticking out of one side of her head. She’s always on the move, that one. She sees me watching her and flashes a toothy smile.

The other girls are sleeping deep, exhausted after a fun-filled few days. We’ve spent the weekend exploring old buildings, scrambling over rocks and eating ice cream. But, all the while, there’s a knot in my stomach that won’t go away.

It’s hard to believe that in just one month, school will start again. We’re entering the hardest stretch, my husband and I. We’re doing what we know is right but faith is wearing thin.

I often catch myself wondering why the right thing can’t be the easy thing.

The truth is, there are times when worry claws at my chest until it physically hurts. The storm is small, yet I have to press into peace – into Jesus – more intentionally these days than ever before. There is always peace in the will of God but only when our eyes are where they should be—off the storm and on our Saviour.

I’m learning this: Jesus doesn’t leave us when storms rage. Not even when our own decisions have contributed to their intensity. Where He calls us, He’ll keep us. And when we take our eyes off Him and start to sink, there’s grace.

It has been three years already and there are five more months left. Just five more months. In a race, the home stretch is always the most exhausting. It’s then that you need to give it your all. So we’ve got to keep running.

We’ve got to give this our all.

We’ve got to give our marriage our all. We’ve got to give our children our all. We’ve got to give those around us our all.

We’ve got to give Jesus our all.

And we’ll make it, believe me. We’ll keep running with endurance through wind and wave and we won’t stop.

But grace alone will carry us across the finish line.