I can hardly tell you the state I was in last summer. I had a four month old who refused to sleep, a toddler who would have nothing to do with her new brother, and was adjusting to life being a stay at home mom. After years of hostility toward the church, I had stumbled onto a church plant that met in an old bar in town. My family had been attending for a little while regularly, but my heart was still resistant to the idea of following Jesus. I wanted to be all in. I just couldn’t bring myself to lay aside the anger and resentment I was continuing to harbor.