When the Plan Fell Apart
I had a plan: A stable job. Financial security. A clear path forward. I was going to build a business, teach moms about finances and legacy, and create something beautiful for my family.
But plans don’t always survive real life.
Four job changes in a year. Income tumbling from $32 an hour to $14 an hour. A car repossessed. Another on the verge. A house payment slipping further behind. A mental health spiral. Medication changes. A lost friendship. A church season that left me feeling invisible. Financial ruin staring me in the face.
This was not the plan.
But here’s what I’m learning in the middle of the wreckage: Legacy isn’t built on the mountaintop, it’s built in the valley.
Psalm 23:4 says, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”
I’m in the valley. And I’m learning that this is where legacy is actually built. One thing I know is that Jesus is walking through this valley with me.
The Year That Broke Me
This has been one of the hardest years of my life; a year that stripped me down to the bone.
I left a stable job because I was unhappy. I bounced between two different accounting jobs, still searching for something that didn’t suffocate me. I ended up at Kona Ice, making $14 an hour for maybe twenty hours a week if I was lucky.
Our finances collapsed. One car was repossessed. One car is hanging by a thread. We’re months behind on the house. We owe $20,000 on a car we no longer have. My mental health unraveled. I went through medication changes that left me raw and barely functioning. I stopped going to church. I stepped down from serving. I disappeared. I lost a friendship I deeply valued.
And I’ve carried the heavy, aching belief that I’ve failed in every direction—as a wife, a mom, an accountant, and a child of God.
This was the year that broke me. But it’s also the year that’s teaching me what legacy really means.
2 Corinthians 4:8-9 says, “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.”
Brokenness isn’t the end of legacy. Sometimes it’s the beginning.
Legacy Is Built in the Valley, Not After It
I used to think legacy was something you built when you had it all together—when the finances were stable, the mental health was under control, the job was secure, and everything was “fixed.” I thought legacy was about success, stability, and having all the answers.
But I’ve learned something in this valley: Legacy doesn’t wait for the mess to be over. Legacy is built in the middle of the mess.
My kids won’t remember the year everything went smoothly. They’re going to remember the year I fought to keep going when everything was falling apart. They’re going to remember my resilience, not my perfection.
My kids know money is tight. They know I’ve changed jobs. They know one of the cars is gone. They don’t know all the details—they don’t need that burden—but they know life is hard right now.
And they’re watching how I respond.
They’re watching me get up every morning, even when I don’t want to. They’re watching me go to work even when I’m exhausted. They’re watching me pray even when I’m angry at God. They’re watching me choose joy for them even when I can’t choose it for myself.
And whether I realize it or not, that is shaping their understanding of faith. That’s legacy.
Romans 5:3-5 says, "Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."
I’m not rejoicing in my suffering. But I am learning that suffering is producing something in me—endurance, character, hope. And that’s what I’m passing on to my kids.
Your legacy isn’t what you leave behind after you die. It’s what you’re building right now, in the valley.
It’s the way you respond when life falls apart. It’s the way you get back up after you’ve been knocked down. It’s the way you choose faith even when you’re angry at God. It’s the way you keep showing up for your kids, even when you feel like you have nothing left to give.
This valley is not the pause in my legacy. It is the birthplace of it.
Hebrews 11:1 says, "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."
I can’t see how this is all going to work out. But faith is choosing to walk anyway. And that’s legacy.
Reframing Your Identity as a Mom Through God’s Eyes
I’ve spent this year feeling like a failure. I’ve looked at the financial mess, the job instability, the mental health crisis, and thought, “I’m ruining my family.” Every overdue bill felt like an accusation. Every overdraft felt like a verdict. Every job rejection felt like confirmation that I’m not good enough.
But the truth is: that’s not how God sees me.
God doesn’t see a failure.
He sees a woman who kept showing up even when she wanted to quit. He sees a woman who chose joy for her kids even when she couldn’t choose it for herself. A woman who fights for her family even when her knees shake. He sees a woman breaking generational patterns and building a legacy of faith for her children.
A heart learning—slowly, painfully—to surrender instead of control. My identity isn’t defined by my circumstances. It’s defined by who I am in Christ.
1 Peter 2:9 says, "But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light."
I am chosen. I am His. And that doesn’t change based on my bank account, my job title, or my ability to hold it all together.
That’s the identity I’m learning to embrace.
Modeling Resilience, Not Perfection
My kids don’t need a perfect mom who never struggles; they need a resilient one who keeps going when life gets hard.
I’m teaching them that it’s okay to fall apart, as long as you keep getting back up.
I’m teaching them that faith isn’t about having all the answers; it’s about trusting God even when you don’t.
I’m teaching them that legacy isn’t about perfection; it’s about perseverance.
I’m not perfect—not even close. I’m anxious. I’m paranoid. I’m exhausted.
I check the bank account too often. I cry in the shower. I make mistakes. I yell when I shouldn’t. I feel like I’m failing most days.
But I keep showing up. And that’s the legacy they will remember.
Galatians 6:9 says, "And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up."
I’m weary. But I’m not giving up.
Breaking Generational Patterns
I’m breaking generational patterns. My parents never took me to church. They never talked about God. I didn’t even own a Bible until after I was saved in 2015.
My kids are growing up differently.
They know God. They know Scripture. They know what it means to have a faith community—even when it’s messy and imperfect. They’re growing up with a spiritual foundation I never had.
I’m choosing to give my kids something I never had: a foundation of faith. I’m choosing to process my pain instead of passing it on. I’m choosing to be honest about my struggles instead of pretending everything is fine. I’m choosing to lean on God even when it’s hard, even when I don’t want to.
I’m building a legacy that says, “We don’t have to do life the way it’s always been done. We can do it differently.”
Ezekiel 18:19-20 says, "Yet you say, 'Why should not the son suffer for the iniquity of the father?' When the son has done what is just and right, and has been careful to observe all my statutes, he shall surely live. The soul who sins shall die. The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father, nor the father suffer for the iniquity of the son. The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon himself."
My kids don’t have to carry what I carried. They don’t have to walk the path I walked. The patterns end with me. A new legacy begins with them.
Trusting God’s Timing When His Plan Looks Nothing Like Yours
I had a plan. God had a different one.
I wanted stability. God gave me surrender.
I wanted success. God gave me dependence.
I wanted answers. God gave me trust.
God’s plan is better than mine—even when it doesn’t look like what I expected.
Maybe He’s teaching me that my worth isn’t tied to my income, my job title, or my ability to hold it all together. Maybe He’s teaching me that His provision doesn’t always look the way I expect. But it’s always enough. Maybe He’s teaching me that legacy isn’t about what I accomplish. It’s about who I become in the process.
I’m having a hard time choosing hope, honestly. Most days, hope doesn’t feel like hope; it feels like survival.
Most days:
I’m just surviving.
I’m paranoid, constantly checking the bank account to see if it’s overdrafted.
I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But maybe that’s what hope looks like in the valley.
Not the shiny, Instagram-perfect hope. But the gritty, reluctant, “I’m still here, and I’m still fighting” hope.
Maybe this is how hope grows—in small, stubborn ways that don’t look dramatic but keep us moving forward.
Romans 15:13 says, "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may aboud in hope."
I don’t know the future. The hope grows daily, but I choose to believe it’s there.
Proverbs 16:9 says, "The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps."
God is guiding my steps—even when I don’t understand the path.
Choosing Hope Anyway
This year has been the hardest year of my life. I’ve lost jobs, a car, a friendship, stability, and control. I’ve questioned God, questioned myself, and questioned everything I thought I knew. I’ve asked “why” more times than I can count. But here’s where I need to choose hope anyway.
Not because everything is fixed, not because the pain is gone, not because I suddenly feel strong, not because I have all the answers.
But because I’m still here. And so is God. And if He’s brought me this far, He’s not going to leave me now.
My legacy is being built right now, in the valley. And it’s going to be beautiful.
Psalm 30:5 says, "For his anger is but for a moment, and his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning."
I’m still waiting for the morning. But I believe it’s coming.
To the Mom Walking Through the Valley
If you’re reading this and you’re in the valley too—
If your plan fell apart and you don’t know how to rebuild—
If you’re just surviving, checking the bank account, waiting for the next crisis—
If you feel like a failure, like you’re ruining your family, like you’re not enough—
If you feel afraid, ashamed, overwhelmed, or unseen—
You’re not alone.
Mom Leaves A Legacy is a safe space. You can email me at danece@momleavesalegacy.com anytime to talk.
I will listen. I will sit with you. I will remind you that you are not failing—you are fighting. I’ll be there to give you a shoulder to cry on if you need it.
We’re in this valley together. And we’re going to make it through.
Your legacy is being built right now. In the mess. In the struggle. In the valley.
And it’s going to be beautiful.
Reflection Questions
- What valley are you walking through right now?
- How are you building legacy in the middle of the mess?
- What generational patterns are you choosing to break?
- How is God reframing your identity through this season?
A Prayer for the Mom Building Legacy in the Valley
Father, this is not the plan I had. This is not the life I imagined. But I’m choosing to trust that You’re building something beautiful in the middle of the mess. Help me see my identity through Your eyes, not through my circumstances. Help me model resilience, not perfection. Help me trust Your timing even when it looks nothing like mine. And help me remember that my legacy is being built right now—in the valley. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
This is the eighth post in the “From The Trenches” series—a raw, unfiltered look at faith, failure, and finding hope in the valley. If this post resonated with you, I’d love to hear your story. You can comment below or reach out privately at danece@momleavesalegacy.com. You’re not alone in this fight. 🩷🩵