I puzzled at the early morning text. Why is my friend asking if we’re safe?
A text from my neighbor clued me in. “A pine tree fell and damaged your shed and maybe your house.”
My oldest daughter and I were out of the state for a college preview when I received these messages. I had no idea our family back home was in danger. We’d heard hurricane Helene was coming, but we live hundreds of miles from Florida. Our schools had closed, but we assumed it was just a precautionary measure.
I needed to call my family.
Relief washed over me when I heard my husband’s voice. “We’re safe. We’ve been camped out in the hallway for the past several hours.”
He went on to describe a storm unlike anything we’d ever experienced. The wind was so fierce they could feel it in the house with the doors and windows closed. Rainwater came into the living room because the storm blew it under the windowsills. A tree fell on my husband’s car, but thankfully none landed on our house.
My daughter and I finally made it home after several GPS reroutes, and tears filled my eyes as I drove into our city. Billboards stripped of their ads. The side of a building lying on the ground next to a tangle of broken power lines. Cars crushed and houses cut in half by massive fallen pines.
Never had I witnessed such devastation. Oh, I’d seen pictures and videos of hurricane damage before. But this was my city. These were my neighbors. That was our car.
In the days that followed, I experienced a jumble of emotions. Grief for my friends over what they’d lost. Relief that we hadn’t lost much. Guilt over feeling such relief. Shame for being sad and anxious when others had it worse. Gratitude for the hundreds of different ways our community banded together to show love.
As I processed all these feelings in prayer, I sensed God’s Spirit saying to mine, Look for what is constant and anchor yourself there.
Life’s storms will come, both the physical and the metaphorical ones, but I’m thankful God’s heart never changes. In the wake of our storms, we can anchor ourselves to who he is and lean into his gracious presence.
Why should I keep following God when he isn’t answering my prayers?
The unspoken question haunted me. I wished I didn’t feel this way. I told myself I should just keep trusting. For all my trying, though, the uncertainty continued. And with it, accusations against God’s character chipped away at my faith.
God doesn’t really care about you.
He’ll never answer your prayers.
He probably isn’t trustworthy.
With gentleness and grace, God drew near, reminding me he already knew my thoughts. He invited me to bring them into the open. Voice the feelings. Verbalize the doubts. Lay bare my soul before the One who sees me as I am and loves me.
So, I did.
As I poured out my disillusionment and admitted what my head was saying about his heart, I found myself on holy ground. He met me there in a deeply personal way. Rather than bypassing my pain or scolding my lack of faith, he received my questions. With his still, small voice, he asked me a question in return, the same question he’d asked Peter in John 6:67, “Do you want to walk away?”
As I pondered his question, I found myself answering as Peter did, “Where would I go? You have the words of life” (v 68). I remembered the history we’ve shared — how he delivered me from a food addiction as a teenager, how he healed my broken heart as a young adult. I’d tasted of his goodness. I’d experienced his grace. He was as real to me as the people in my own family.
No, I didn’t want to walk away. Despite the pain in my soul, even though he had yet to answer my prayers, he was still the same God. Still loving. Still powerful. Still for me and worthy of my trust.
I left that encounter a different person, not because my circumstances had changed or because he’d promised me they would. On the contrary, he gave me himself. He let me experience his open-hearted welcome, his understanding, and his soul-mending grace.
When our faith is slipping, God offers to be our firm foundation (Isaiah 33:6). He stands ready with open arms to receive us in our brokenness, eager to welcome us home (Luke 15:20). He’ll never reject those who come to him (John 6:37).
If you find yourself in a similar spot, I invite you to make space to pour out your heart before God.
Applause erupted as our daughter stood to receive her third award of the evening. She beamed with excitement while walking on stage. I listened to the praise of both her teachers and peers. My heart swelled with joy. Their words confirmed what I already knew—she’s an incredible kid.
At the same time, I ached for her brother, who received no awards that night. He’s an amazing kid, too. He did well in his classes, and his kind, fun-loving personality won him many friends. Still, he took home no awards.
Oh, the depth of conflicting emotions a parent’s heart can hold in the same moment.
On the way home, our son commented, “I wonder why I didn’t get any awards.” I turned in the front passenger seat and looked at him with compassion. I’ve experienced these gut-wrenching feelings before, too. I know what it’s like to anticipate affirmation and come away disappointed. I know how hard it is to celebrate with a friend while trying to mask my own pain.
How can we help our kids deal with rejection? Here are some thoughts on preparing them for both disappointment and success:
Our children have different talents and gifts.
As we sat in the car that night, we reminisced about swim team last summer when our son was the one winning the awards. His sister won some, too. But that night, he excelled.
God created each of our kids with unique abilities and individual talents. Faithfulness in using our gifts is more valuable than receiving the applause of others. God sees our hard work, our diligence, and our perseverance—even when others don’t.
God gives us value and identity.
Our son builds amazing Lego creations. He draws detailed bridges. He memorizes facts and Bible verses easily. But none of these abilities define him. They don’t give him his worth any more than his struggles diminish his worth.
Our kids have intrinsic value simply because God made them in His image. No other creature has received such a gift. The praise or criticism of people can’t change the reality of who they are. The Creator of the universe deeply loves them, wants them, and delights in them. He died to make a way for them to be close to Him.
Jesus understands rejection.
In becoming human, Jesus showed us the heart of God. He spent His days loving, healing, teaching—pouring Himself out for those He created. In the end, they rejected Him. They falsely accused Him, spit on Him, beat Him, and ultimately crucified Him.
He gets rejection.
His heart goes out to our kids when they are overlooked. He invites them to tell him all about their feelings—not just the pretty ones, but the raw, unfiltered emotions, too. He understands. This place of vulnerability can be the very spot where they encounter God. He’s able to comfort them, heal their wounds, and bring beauty out of their pain.
“I’d choose you.”
When I was young, my mom read a book to me entitled I’d Choose You by John Trent. In this story, a mother elephant describes several scenarios in which she would choose her own son over any other child, no matter who performed best.
I long for my kids to possess a deep confidence that even if another person does something better than they do, I would still choose them—simply because they’re mine. They are loved and treasured, just as they are.
Rejoice with those who rejoice.
Our kids enjoy cheering on their friends, whether it’s an awards ceremony or a swim meet. It’s fun to watch the success of those we love.
It can be difficult to rejoice, though, when someone else’s triumph means our loss. Choosing to celebrate our friends’ or siblings’ achievements develops humility and strengthens friendships.
We can help our kids grow in this by praying with them—leading them in telling God about their feelings and asking for his joy. Then, together, we can take a practical step toward celebration— telling their sibling, “I’m proud of you,” writing a “Congratulations” card, or sending a “Way to go” text. Finally, we can affirm them and reinforce the good character they’ve just displayed by expressing how proud we are of them.
Define true success.
I’ll never forget the day a teacher pulled me aside to talk about a recent incident in P.E. One of the boys was struggling with an activity. Our son noticed and took it upon himself to help this boy, staying by his side as they played the game.
Hearing this brought happy tears to my eyes. I rejoiced in our son’s compassion displayed that day.
“The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love” (Galatians 5:6b). God looks at our kids’ hearts. He values faith and love. He honors integrity and good character. Our kids need to know we do, too.
If we look to good grades or achievement as the measure of success, we’re setting our children up for future problems. Some may be tempted to cheat their way to a good report card. Others may define themselves by their scores—being devastated by poor grades or conceited by good ones.
Our kids need to know that while their grades matter and we’ll celebrate good ones together, report cards exist mainly to show us where there’s room for improvement. A poor grade can indicate the need to devote extra time to a subject or approach it differently. It may point out room for personal growth in diligence, perseverance, or attentiveness. Sometimes, it can even alert us to a possible learning difficulty or disorder.
True success is measured not by an award or the grade on a test but by what’s in the heart.
Rejection affects all of us. Our kids will be overlooked, left out, or even shunned. When this happens, we have the priceless opportunity of pointing them to Jesus and helping them grow stronger and more empathetic through the pain.
Let’s take every opportunity to affirm our children. Let’s instruct them in true success, the beauty of faith, and the value of integrity. The worth of these things will last for eternity.
This article originally appeared on Crosswalk, 03/05/2024:
I’d just gotten off the phone with my friend and the kids’ beloved babysitter. She’d called to say she was on her way over to pick something up.
Our seven-year-old daughter heard my side of the conversation and couldn’t contain her excitement over seeing an actual person somewhere other than a computer screen.
When our friend arrived, the kids rushed onto the front porch to say hello. Though we maintained a six-foot distance and chatted in the front yard, it felt good to enjoy a face-to-face conversation.
Months of social distancing have taken their toll. But they’ve also taught us the value of human connection. Of sharing life with the people who live in our spaces.
It’s easy to take for granted those we love the most. Even in our families, we can unintentionally live parallel lives and forget to enjoy the relationships within our own walls.
I’m thankful for the reminder to see my people. To value our interactions and invest in those around us.
Here are four ways we can be intentional in cultivating togetherness in our homes:
Make room for fun
I’m a bit of a no-nonsense person. At any given moment, I could recite the mental to-do list looming in the back of my mind. Most days, work feels more important than play. Yet if I wait until it’s all done, I’ll never stop to enjoy our life.
I’m learning to see the value in play. For in those moments when we’re simply enjoying each other, I learn a lot about my people — their strengths, their passions, their sense of humor. And I realize that the memories we’re making help build our family and solidify the relationships we share.
So make room for fun — family movie nights and afternoon board games, books read aloud and hikes through the woods, cookie baking and Lego building, bike rides and jumping together on the trampoline. It all adds up to shared experiences and hearts drawn close.
Prioritize one-on-one time
While family time is priceless, our kids need one-on-one time with us, as well. They need to feel seen. To know we like them and want to spend time focused on them.
Ask what they’d like to do together – just the two of you – then do your best to make it happen. I love seeing each child’s personality shine as we spend these times with one another. My oldest daughter likes to scroll through Pinterest or just sit and talk. My son usually wants to build with Legos or take a bike ride. My littlest enjoys baking something we’ve never made before or reading a book.
If you have more than one child, be creative in occupying your other kids while focusing on just one of them. You can designate a “quiet time,” where everyone spends 30 minutes playing or reading in their room. Or set out coloring books on the kitchen table while an audio book plays in the background. Or make a stack of board games for them to play together. Be sure each child knows this is a special time for just you and their sibling, but that they can look forward to their turn soon.
Planning for these times takes some intentionality, as well as a good dose of spontaneity, but it’s well worth making a priority.
Face hard things together
The Bible talks often of the value of facing life with another person. (See Ecclesiastes 4:9-12.) Especially in the hard times, our kids need to know we’re with them and for them. Whether it’s a worldwide pandemic or the uncertainty of a new school year, let’s give our kids the gift of knowing they’re not alone — that come what may, we’re in this together. And that even when we don’t have all the answers, we’ll walk through uncertain times with them.
Recently, God taught me that this concept of togetherness is also helpful when I must administer discipline. As our perfect Father, He wants to walk through hard times with us — even when they’re the result of our own foolish choices. So when possible, face the consequences with your child. If it’s a time out, have them sit in the room with you. If it’s an added chore, grab another broom and help them sweep the floor.
Let’s make sure our kids know we’ll face the future with them.
Invite them in
In Romans 14, we’re reminded to accept those who are different from us, because God also accepts that fellow believer. In the Bible’s original Greek, the word “accept” carries the connotation of welcoming into friendship.
I love that picture and the application it has on day-to-day family life. Each family member is so very unique, yet God calls us to welcome one another into friendship.
Invite them to work with you in the kitchen. Let them join your no-longer-quiet “quiet time.” Share your struggles and what God is teaching you through them. Let them walk with you through the ups and downs and ins and outs of everyday life.
As families, we have the privilege of enjoying human connections each and every day. Let’s invest in those relationships and be purposeful about doing life together.
Maybe it’s an echo of Eden or a yearning for things to come, this drive I have for perfection.
I long for things to be just so, for everything to fit in neat and tidy boxes, for the day to go as planned and all our stuff (aka clutter) to stay neatly organized.
Christmastime is no exception.
Actually, my drive for perfection may be even more intense this time of year. I want the tree trimmed symmetrically (I have been known to readjust ornaments after the kids go to bed), the shopping to be done ahead of time, and the menu to be memory-worthy. I long for quiet evenings by the tree with a cup of tea and a good book. And I want it all to progress slowly enough for everyone to enjoy the season.
But sometimes, most of the time, real life doesn’t fit in my ideal little boxes.
Right now, I’m sitting in front of the Christmas tree and a whole section of lights is out, despite the time my husband spent restringing all the lights (several times, but we won’t mention that frustrating fact.)
And it’s crazy early in the morning right now, but the jet lag from my mission trip 12 time zones away has my sleeping patterns all out of whack.
And the Christmas cards arrived from the printer on time, but they looked so awful I had to have them redone. Guess they’ll be late this year.
I realized, however, that these little details really are minor frustrations. For many people, Christmas is a time of deep sadness. Tears well up in my eyes as I remember friends who’ve suffered great loss recently. My dear mentor told me not a Christmas goes by without her thinking of loved ones not present at their holiday gatherings.
Real life is messy and full of heart-breaking disappointments. Christmas has a way of accentuating that pain.
Nothing in real life is truly Pinterest perfect.
But that’s why Emmanuel came.
Everything was perfect in His heavenly home. Perfectly sinless. Perfectly painless. Perfectly perfect in every way. Jesus was honored and served and adored there.
But you see, He loved these humans He’d created. The ones who’d traded in their perfect relationship with Him for a shot at doing life on their own – and we’ve been living with the fallout from that bad decision ever since (all the while adding our own sinful messes to the mix).
Yet no matter how broken humankind was, God wouldn’t stop loving them. He’d appear in their imperfect world, live among them, and make a way for their relationship with Him to be restored.
He wouldn’t do it our way, though. No royal palace, no sterile birthplace – Jesus stepped down right into the middle of our brokenness.
He entered a virgin’s womb, and everyone doubted his mother’s integrity. He showed up in a jam-packed town and only the animals made room for Him. Smelly shepherds were His greeting committee and foreign dignitaries paid Him homage, while most of His own failed to notice His arrival.
His hometown was despised. His people oppressed. For most of His life, He was simply “The Carpenter’s Son.” Thirty of His 33 years were spent in obscurity.
When His ministry officially began, He defied everyone’s idealized notions of how this Messiah thing should be done. Instead of conquering Rome’s oppressive regime, He said, “Give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s” (Mark 12:17, NIV). While others clamored for first place, Jesus took off His robe, knelt before His bickering followers, and washed their filthy feet (John 13).
He loved the unlovely. He forgave the unworthy. He turned the world upside down.
This is the Baby we celebrate at Christmastime. So why on earth do we bustle so frantically to make sure everything is just right?
That first Christmas was a stunning display of God’s ability –affinity even — to create beauty, not in our perfection, but from our brokenness.
He’s present in the process, not just the finished product.
This is our Emmanuel – the God who’s right here with us, with all our struggles and heartaches, our warts and bruises and scars.
God’s idea of the perfect Christmas is vastly different than ours, which is really comforting to me. It reminds me that there’s beauty in this very moment, untidy as it is, if I’ll just be still and embrace it.
His presence is the heart of the Christmas spirit, so life doesn’t have to be perfect to celebrate the season.
As we count down the last few days until December 25th, let’s look for Jesus in each moment, bringing Him our heartaches, our disappointments, our frustrations.
Let’s choose present over perfect, memory-making over striving, and surrender to His plan over clinging to our own.
Let’s celebrate God’s work right now, even as we long for the perfection that will one day be our reality.
How about you? How are you finding rest in the middle of the Christmas crazy? I’d love to hear – please leave a comment below!
But sometimes, most of the time, real life doesn’t fit in my ideal little boxes.
He entered a virgin’s womb, and everyone doubted his mother’s integrity. He showed up in a jam-packed town and only the animals made room for Him. Smelly shepherds were His greeting committee and foreign dignitaries paid Him homage, while most of His own failed to notice His arrival.