One of my children recently didn’t achieve the teacher recommendation they needed for another year on student council.
And I felt the tug-of-war in my innards. Part of me ached for the rejection they felt, particularly coming from a teacher who siblings confirmed was particularly difficult. I sought to turn off the ignition to my inner snowplow, shaking off the urge to appeal.
But words from a friend, maybe a decade ago now, bubbled to the surface of my brain. Can getting caught–or discipline itself–be a mercy?
Getting caught: A severe mercy
In my mind, the answer’s a resounding yes.read more
Last Saturday, I pawed through a time capsule of sorts. Let’s call it “parenthood.”
The day before, my second son wheeled his carry-on through security, moving out of our home–to be fair, as we knew what happened when he was wrestled from my abdomen on an unseasonably warm January day 18 years ago. He finished high school in December. It’s time.
He’s moving in with my (truly wonderful) parents, where the cost of living is cheaper and he can get his first taste of adulthood.
The time capsule
But there I was, last Saturday, pawing beneath the remaining bed of our formerly-stacked double bunks. He’d done most of the heavy lifting, carrying out furniture and tying up a thousand and one loose ends. I wasn’t put out by the under-bed cleanup.
My kids might have cleaned around the edges, though I don’t know that this task had been executed with as much zeal since we moved back from Africa. He was in sixth grade then, his brother in eighth–the one who called me from Guam last week, his first deployment stop with the Marines.
That’s right; my nest is half-empty. Or is it half-full? At one point, I’d had four kids four and under. And just as fast as my house filled, it’s draining.
I’d opened the windows, welcoming the release of winter’s stranglehold on Colorado. And there on my hands and knees, I pulled out the inventory. Including these:
1 issue of Bon Appetit
3 (not 2, not 4) drumsticks, thankfully not the eating kind, yet
1 unopened (again, thankfully), expired can of tuna
1 hall pass
roughly 67 Nerf darts
1 mini-notebook of short story ideas in pencil
1 boot camp journal
4 borrowed DVD’s
5 birthday postcards from Christian summer camp counselors
2 Tinker Toys
1 Lincoln Log
2 K’nex
1 aerobie
1 car snow brush
1 Edelbrock auto air filter
1 coin from the United Arab Emirates
As I pulled out the battered Nerf sword they’d carted around Uganda and back to the States, vanquishing childhood foes, I wondered which was its unsuspecting final battle. All this crumpled school paperwork was no longer necessary with the boys’ diplomas in hand. I imagined the bed creaking as the boys rolled over in sleep, exhaling; its slats are quiet now.
The “after”
I was feeling, am feeling, sad.
(Recently spotted on my Pinterest feed: A meme longing for “a soundtrack on my life, so I can know what the heck is going on.”)
Because yes, it’s the end of an era; cue Stevie Nicks’ “Landslide.” But as perhaps seeping between the lines of my blog posts, you hear I’m grieving motherhood, and what I hoped it would be.
Sidled up beside the late-night talks leaning against kitchen counters, I expected less of the virtually inexplicable anger both of my sons would wrestle with in their later teen years, lobbed toward the closest person in their path (so often, me).
Tucked among the laughs around the table, I expected fewer searing sibling comments lobbed across the linoleum.
I expected more reflection on halcyon days, maybe less on a vague sense of failure.
My parenthood “for God”
It brings to mind the words of Sarah Condon, in Daily Grace. She writes of her Lenten plans:
I would be a more patient mother in the morning.
….This year I was going to get eight hours of sleep and be one of those mothers who bakes muffins in the freaking morning. Big plans. I had a vision of motherhood that included early morning yoga, perhaps some quiet time with the Lord, and constantly smiling at my progeny.
Her son, however, broke his arm on the second day of Lent. “And I realized that my Lent was going to consist of sleeping with a third grader to help him prop up his arm and praying to God he doesn’t accidentally whack me in the face with his cast in the middle of the night. Again.”
She concludes,
So I will not be the kind of mom I had planned on becoming. But God is positioning me firmly in his own kind of motherhood for me regardless.
We always come at Lent [–or parenthood–] like we are going to shape God. Like we are going to tell him about all our willpower and devotion to him…making Jesus an offer he can’t refuse.
Only, he does refuse. God takes our plans and pushes them further… He pulls them apart and pushes them back together.
God’s long game
Over dinner with friends tonight, as my husband spoke of following Christ at age 16, I realized he was the same age my daughter is right now.
If I would have seen him as a high-school student, I wouldn’t have anticipated the vice-president-of-a-missions-agency, the missionary, the church elder. Far more than who he is on paper, I wouldn’t have glimpsed the man who loves God with such an anchored hope, who loves people with intricate kindness. I met my husband at the age my son is now.
Calling any game at the first quarter isn’t done in any sport. There’s so much more to be done.
It’s why a call from my mom lifted my spirits yesterday.
This last week, my son opened a new bank account. Researched and purchased car insurance. Applied for health insurance. Nailed a job. Emptied the dishwasher of his own accord. Drove my parents around a new city, helping my dad after a surgery. He planted trees and flowers in with their landscaping, talked easily with their friends. Rumor has it he’s making his bed and his room is relatively neat.
Like my parenthood, like any child, like me, my kids are a mixed bag of sweeping wins and heart-rending losses. (What would he unearth from under my metaphorical bed?)
Today I’m thankful for a God able to place even the losses in the wins column. A God who brings everything he starts into completion.
And whether the close of this chapter of my life looks like a win for the protagonist or not, I’m grateful to know the Author of a breathtaking ending.
Join the conversation. In what ways has parenthood felt different than you expected?
For this overachieving people-pleaser, purity culture helped my cravings (e.g. for others’ approval, or to find my identity in my performance) simply “get religion”–and a little moral lipstick.
Are there practical ways to coach my kids toward a lifestyle of sexual integrity–without the power of shame or fear behind it? What should/could dating look like, if it’s not only to find a spouse? In light of some of the vitriol-filled conversations around modesty, how can I keep my kids from letting their bodies be sexualized?
Why Talking to Kids about Sex Matters More Than You Think
And I’ve discovered just how vital discussions about bodies and sex are with kids even in preschool as together, we start building a God-centered worldview (…before other kids and Google build it for them).
Training from Dr. Juli Slattery and others has convinced me that
Discipling our kids in their sexuality matters also because sexuality deals with the most intimate parts of who we are.
What we believe about sex starts with–and reflects–what we believe about God. And vice versa: when sex gets confusing, our relationship with God gets confusing.
God created sex as a transformative, experience-this-in-every-part-of-you metaphor for His covenant (hesed) love. Slattery sums this up by pointing out how sex mimics its celebration, intimate knowing, faithfulness, and sacrifice. And of all the lessons our kids receive, are there many more important than God’s covenant love? It makes so much more sense to me now why God created sex as a precious and powerful force in our lives.
Someone is discipling my kids sexually, even when I’m not.
Rather than the purity culture narrative of religiosity and reaching maturity when someone marries, I hope to direct my kids toward a different story. I’m talking lifelong integration of their faith with sexuality–with God as the ultimate redeemer. Not their ability to come to him with all their boxes checked.
Then, for each age group, grab a PDF of what to talk about with your child at each stage, so you’re equipped for “mini and many” developmentally appropriate conversations. (Hint: In this world, if you’d like to be the first one to talk to your child about an issue, that issue might need to feature much earlier than you’d think.)
Talking to kids about sex might be even more important than you thought. But you don’t need to fly blind. And like me, destructive patterns in how you learned about sex can stop in your generation, in your family.
Your turn.
What’s been important for you in talking to kids about sex?
My daughter was highlighting my hair (yes, from a box. Yes, to cover the gray that’s laying siege to my scalp) when she told me about a friend who’s not sure if she identifies herself as a Christian anymore.
As when I hear about anyone who’s deconstructing faith, my chest tightened at the sternum. It’s painful for the person, and it’s painful for those who love them.
Someone pointed out that church hurt (in part the cause of this friend’s pain), and often deconstruction, typically results from emotional trauma.
So often, deconstruction happens because of what’s happening in our stories. Something has become more than we can process.
What gave me hope: My daughter was working hard to create emotional space for her friend to grieve. Feel angry. Ask questions.
And those are meaningful in part because in the past—and her present, though less so—my daughter’s needed the same.
Why a Child Deconstructing Faith Doesn’t Always Have to Freak You Out
Perhaps accelerated by my family’s return to America from the mission field and other difficult experiences we encountered here, three of my four kids at this point have needed to army-crawl through painful seasons in their faith.
I’ve hit my knees hard for each of them. And sometimes their questions have felt–do feel–threatening.
But there with my daughter, as I perched on a stool in my bathroom, I showed her this video from my friend Tony.
It encapsulates much of what I believe about deconstruction: It can be devastating, or it can be one of the best things that happen to them—or it can even be both.
In fact, what if we should all be deconstructing at some level?
I say this because deconstructing happens when something about our relationship with God or our faith paradigm collides with a part of real life that doesn’t fit–like a too-small pair of shoes you’re hobbling around in. Something’s gotta give.
For my kids, asking the right questions has formed a significant part of owning their faith as they come into young adulthood—coincidentally, another significant prayer request of mine.
(A missionary once told me that when his kids turned about 11, he realized how little control he had over them choosing God for themselves.)
I wouldn’t wish my kids’ pain on a snake. And no one wants a child deconstructing their faith. But like a butterfly from a chrysalis, they needed to acquire this faith-muscle on their own.
Why your kids need to ask the hard questions
To put a finer point on it—if my kids aren’t asking tough questions, I’m asking how deeply they’re interacting with their faith. They need a faith as robust as life’s most terrible crises, most searing nightmares, most harrowing ethical dilemmas.
And that’s not born. It’s forged. David, Job, and John the Baptist are just a few of the Bible’s deconstructionists.
Pastor and author Tim Keller observes about doubt,
A faith without some doubts is like a human body without any antibodies in it.
People who blithely go through life too busy or indifferent to ask hard questions about why they believe as they do will find themselves defenseless against either the experience of tragedy or the probing questions of a smart skeptic.
A person’s faith can collapse almost overnight if she has failed over the years to listen patiently to her own doubts, which should only be discarded after long reflection.
…Only if you struggle long and hard with objections to your faith will you be able to provide the grounds for your beliefs to skeptics, including yourself, that are plausible rather than ridiculous or offensive.
He points out that this process also makes us more compassionate and curious when someone else struggles with doubt.
What Not to Do When a Child is Deconstructing Faith
Having three kids who have walked through that gut-wrenching season—and having edited a few of the resources I’m suggesting below—I’ve gathered a few basic don’ts.
Try not to…
Freak out.
Instead, spend a lot of time in prayer for your kids. Prayer when a child is deconstructing faith is a valuable time for God to help me understand my kids’ hearts, the questions they’re asking, the reasons beneath their pain, the values generating friction with faith.
Luke 15 proved a vital passage to camp out on when my kids were asking tough questions. Tremendous wealth can be mined there about our “search-and-rescue God”, as Dr. Juli Slattery calls him.
One of my primary takeaways from the story of the prodigal son (vv. 11-32) is that the younger son’s heart as far from the father before he asked for the money and went to a “far country.” We can tell because of the disrespect he shows his dad just in asking: Let’s pretend you’re dead and I get my part of the money.
The father could have been like, “Hey, I know how this ends. Let’s just save my money and cut to the party. I’ll throw in a fattened calf and we’ll call it good!”
But the son needed to travel through the foreign land and eventually end up eating with the pigs, longing to be home with his dad. He needed to see his dad running from his lookout post, needed to feel his father exchanging the rags of a pig herder for the robe of a son.
It’s possible your child needs this dark season to develop a genuine love for and trust in God.
I was once told that someone’s hurt points to their heart, which becomes holy ground. Yes, there is definitely a place for apologetics or the right Bible verse, and sometimes it’s just the right time for truth and wisdom.
But in my limited opinion, part of the problem of the American church in the 90’s was our collective opinion that (misquoting Field of Dreams here), “If we speak truth, they will come.” We believed (a bit one-dimensionally), If people hear the truth, that’s what they need most.
Time and again—Zacchaeus, the woman at the well, lepers—I see Jesus asking questions and/or entering into people’s story first. He leads with love.
(Interestingly, Mary and Martha are both leading and struggling with faith when Jesus, on purpose, doesn’t show up before their brother dies. They ask the exact same question, but Jesus answers Martha with truth, Mary with shared tears.)
Our kids’ questions are often the result of deep pain. So maybe invite your child out to coffee, or to a place where you need to drive awhile, and can cultivate conversation.
Then reverently, intentionally make time to listen, listen, listen. Say, “Tell me more.” Ask questions. Seeking to truly understand may be of more value than snuffing out kids’ soul-questions.
Respond with platitudes or minimizing.
This may not be the time to roll out a chipper rendition of Romans 8:28.
When your child’s asking questions about faith, they may just be questions. Or they may be the tip of a significant iceberg. So first, you could ask:
How would you answer that question?
Would you feel comfortable telling me more about why you’re thinking about that?
How does that issue make you feel?
Freaking out? Try these resources instead.
Wanting alternative ideas for how to respond ? Check out these articles, downloads, and podcasts.
Christianity Today’s addictive limited podcast series The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill.Host Mike Cosper details the story of the birth and collapse of a megachurch in Seattle—but far more than this, elements baked into the culture of American Christianity that set our churches up for failure and alienation. If you’ve had difficult church or parachurch experiences, you might find this consoling and eye-opening, as I did. And ever-so-subtly, you might just find it an eye-opener about the current evangelical/political scenario.
The “messy middle” parts of your kids’ stories can be downright terrifying. Frankly, I’m glad my kids at this point have deconstructed while under my roof, where we can still perch on a couple of barstools in the kitchen, eye-to-eye. Where they can see the compassion my husband and I feel when days feel dark.
If your child is deconstructing faith, I’m praying for you as I type. Maybe, like my daughter, someday they’ll be the one midwifing a friend’s pain.
I still remember where I stood that Sunday. I must have been three or at the oldest four. The church’s smell of coffee drifted above the part in my hair, crisply pleated lines of men’s suit trousers at my level.
I reached up to take again my dad’s hand, callused and rough from years of farm chores. Yet the chuckle I heard wasn’t his.
Most of us have a short, uneventful anecdote like this: I took a hand, but it wasn’t my parent’s. Yet for me as a child, surrounded by a sea of bodies seven times their size–I only remember the fright sprinting through me.
The man was polite. The problem wasn’t that he lacked kindness.
It was that he didn’t love me, wasn’t in charge of protecting me, wasn’t mine.
Author and spiritual director Alice Fryling suggests situations like these as a metaphor for the coping mechanisms which have served us (in varying degrees of health) all our lives.
But we’re holding a hand–a source of motivation and nurture–that doesn’t love us or genuinely care for us.*
Who’s in charge here?
Recently I realized a certain person has come to mind almost daily in my parenting for years–a person who passed away years ago.
I knew their parenting to be a bastion of control and order. Everyone knew who was in charge.
I hadn’t even realized how often this person was coming to mind. But just last week, when I examined their presence in my mind, I comprehended how frequently I felt afraid and insecure as my kids tumbled into teenagerhood.
Did I mention I was nearly always coming up wanting?
Interestingly, this person wasn’t someone who I knew to be a deep lover of God. When I stepped back, I didn’t even think, “I hope my kids turn out like theirs.”
Developing a “follower” mentality where these children have trouble deciding things for themselves
Difficulty discerning right from wrong on their own
Low self-esteem and seeking confirmation of their worth from outside authority figures
Still, in my default factory mode, something suggested I should have that level of control with my kids. When the world goes pear-shaped, a primal part of me thinks making a rule or exerting authority is probably a pretty great solution.
The only hand to hold
Intriguingly, operating out of fear and operating with wisdom may often look the same.
But the hand they hold isn’t.
In my experience, parenting is chockful of fear. Everywhere.
Loving someone so much naturally carries a desire to protect and preserve. That fear is an amoral emotion that keeps us from kissing our kids on the forehead to say, “Have a great day, honey! Go play in traffic, talk to strangers and get in their vehicles, and don’t bother washing your hands after the bathroom.”
Fear in parenting is a given. But as I read recently, emotions are like kids. You can’t let them drive the car, but you shouldn’t stuff them in the trunk, either.
Controlling parent? First, be aware
Of course, most controlling parents don’t think they’re controlling. They just know the right way to do things, and love and protect their kids, right? (“Call me a ‘control enthusiast.’)
So first, to unstuff the aforementioned trunk–let’s be aware of when we’re afraid. Then, we can manage the fear, rather than fear subtly or not-so-much managing us.
When I’m relying primarily on my authority and structure to set the world right, I’m essentially trusting–holding the hand of–control. That’s where my confidence lies.
And unhealthy control (versus wise management of our homes) is the extension of my fear. Some of the most controlling parents I’ve known have been parents who’ve loved dearly–but wrestled with deep fear. And often because of things that happened to them as kids, including authority figures with whom they felt unprotected.
Those situations have a way of making us vow, That will never happen to my kid.
Yet God casts a far greater vision for me as a parent. He asks me to first rely on who he says I am: a deeply beloved child of God.
I can trust him with my kids rather than myself because his is the only reliable hand to hold.
Heads up: Parenting driven by love may not always mean we manage our kids perfectly. But our management of our kids no longer propels our identity.
Am I a controlling parent? Warning signs
Check out posts like these for signs you might be a controlling parent.
Get curious about your inflamed, emotional, and/or disproportionate reactions. Try asking yourself, What am I afraid of? Often there’s a legitimate fear that may be expressed in illegitimate ways.
Fear can lead to some of our worst, most thoughtless, and reactive parenting. When you’re tempted to respond with shock and awe, press pause on the situation. Wait until you’re out of the fight/flight/freeze part of your brain (studies show that’s about 20-30 minutes). You can still discipline your child after that point, but it’s harder to undo reactionary parenting.
Get curious about your own past, and consider whether therapy might be wise–including EMDR, a technique for those who hope to “unwire” trauma in their brains. You don’t want the legacy of a controlling parent to define your kids as adults, or stand in the way of healthy relationships (including you) as they develop more independence.
6. Be the first one to admit what you did wrong, even if you feel your contribution was only 1% of the problem. Take 100% responsibility for your portion, and ask forgiveness for it.
7. If you’re looking for ways to parent with emotional health, one of the best is to think quick-slow-slow*: “Be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to become angry” (James 1:19). This might look like
giving a thoughtful, measured consequence rather than a reactive one.
keeping a level head when your child is melting down. Respond with a gentle answer, which “turns away wrath,” rather than a harsh word that “stirs up anger” (Proverbs 15:1).
responding thoughtfully when your child says something that raises your inner eyebrows. Ask questions and offer reason. Resist the urge to respond out of fear or anger.
This morning as my 14-year-old scarfed down chicken-maple sausage links before school, I pulled Tim Keller’s devo (for adults) on Proverbs off the kitchen’s half-wall, where it sits by the fruit bowl. These pages have become to me a quietly cherished part of our routine.
There’s something about Proverbs’ concrete wisdom and word pictures for developing young brains that makes this book wonderfully tactile. (And bless the person who divided it neatly into 31 chapters, one per day of the month.)
Sure, its principles can perhaps be interpreted by kids (and adults) as if-then promises. But if you’re a child or a young adult, its succinct wisdom can carry this reorienting-to-true-North effect.
I know for me, as a young adult, a group of my female friends and I studied Proverbs 31 together in college. It’s influenced my perception of strong, robust womanhood ever since.
So this morning on the markerboard on my fridge, I’m scrawling Proverbs 4:14-15. And I’m thinking maybe you, too, would love to post some Proverbs for kids here and there in your house.
As we kick off a new year together, may verses like these continue to put legs on wisdom–a wisdom for their sponge-like brains to sop up for a lifetime.
The dog licked me awake early this morning. Well, early for my slumbering house of teenagers house. And I stayed awake for the quiet.
As I type to you, snow layers the landscape out my window like fondant. I love its muting effect–on schedules, on sound. My life craves more quiet, for the love of Mike. And the end of the year always seems to hush my own soul into a more contemplative place.
The past 12 months are on my mind. What just happened? How am I different? How is my family different? What do I love? What do I hope to leave behind? How am I praying for next year?
What has God done in my family? For each of us and all of us, what does he long for?
Forget me not
In Joshua 4, the whole posse of Israel–an estimated 2 million, staggering for the time, and around the size of Greater Chicago–crossed the Jordan. And following moment, the one they waited 40 years for, Joshua stops them.
Take twelve stones from here out of the midst of the Jordan, from the very place where the priests’ feet stood firmly, and bring them over with you and lay them down in the place where you lodge tonight…
that this may be a sign among you. When your children ask in time to come, ‘What do those stones mean to you?’ then you shall tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord … So these stones shall be to the people of Israel a memorial forever. (vv. 3, 6-7)
God knew the era of the Judges hovered around the corner: “here arose another generation after them who did not know the Lord or the work that he had done for Israel” (2:10).
I think God knows our human propensity toward amnesia. Toward forgetting.
So consider performing a yearly Examen–a form of the Prayer of Examen. (Here’s a daily, printable version for families.) Essentially, it helps think through where God has been in the past year–the ways you’ve felt consolation, experiencing God’s presence; the ways you’ve experienced desolation, or things that threatened to separate you.
Writing a year-end note to your child: 4 simple steps
My teenagers are a bit past the printable goal sheets, whether by age or their particular personalities. But this year, I decided I’d write them each a note on Christmas, tucking it in a place they’d find it.
My own hopes were these:
To express my love for them and the value of our relationship, wherever it’s at.
To witness what God’s been doing in them the last year, particularly the ways they inched toward maturity.
To call out ways I see them uniquely expressing God’s image.
To cheer them on in pursuing him.
Now, I’m a writer, so you could either think, “Man, it’s just easier for her,” or, “Hey, you do this for a living. Got tips?” Or both.
Don’t be scared, now
Don’t be intimidated by this. You could certainly type out a version of your note to your child and then handwrite it. (Handwriting, IMO, can be more meaningful and keepsake-worthy, but don’t let that keep you from writing one or making a typewritten one that’s better).
You could also limit yourself to a notecard. Anyone can write four sentences, right? Or, if you’re married, ask your spouse for help on what you might say. (Fair warning: An writers’ adage advises, “It’s easier to be long than short.”)
If your relationship feels a bit broken with your child, this is a chance to reach out to them in sincerity, and maybe even with an apology or repentance on your part.
If your child is young, you know how to talk with them in ways they understand.
Or if they’re very young, consider writing this to place in their baby book or photo album, where they can read it when they’re older.
So let’s break it down. Grab some quick tips to write a year-end note to your child that they might keep in their room, or their heart, for longer than you think.
Open your note to your child with what you value about your relationship. Consider referencing a few memories you made together.
For example–make it sound like you:
Wanted to make sure I let you know how much I’ve loved watching you grow this year.
From [reference memory 1] to [reference memory 2], we’ve laughed a lot and talked about a lot. And I’m so thankful for the ways we’ve…
Reflect the ways they’ve grown.
Hopefully it goes without saying, but avoid the underhanded insult or subtle homily–some version of You’ve really grown past your sarcasm, and [at last] listened to God about your potty mouth.
Question. How are you delighting in your child right now?
As I reflected in When It’s Hard to Enjoy Your Child, I remember a time as an adult when I felt misunderstood and alienated by the world at large. A photo of me with my mom reminded me I brought delight to someone when I felt like could give nothing.
We carry a unique position as their parents to express our delight in our kids. And there’s a certain extent to which God shows us delight isn’t always earned. That covenant love looks for delight when delight is hard.
When it comes to your note to your child, think about these:
What can I appreciate about how my child has changed–however small?
Moses asked God to show Moses his glory (Exodus 33:18). Ask God to show you how he’s been working in your child. If you’re struggling to appreciate or see any “fruit,” or currently are praying for a prodigal (I like this month-long version), see this as an opportunity to hunt down and offer God worship for the things he has done, is doing, in your child.
What positive moments do you remember in the last year? Why were they positive?
Use this note to your child to talk about the ways you see God in them.
How are your child’s strengths–even if they’re totally different from yours–growing into his image, his unique workmanship in them?
Ephesians 2:10 explains, “We are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” That word workmanship is translated from the Greek poiema, which is where we also derive the English word poem.
If God were expressing himself in poem through your child, what would the world see? His strength, his attention to detail, his drive, his wonder, his courage and advocacy?
Express what you can’t wait to see in your child over the next year.
In your note to your child, walk that razor edge between courageously calling them into what God has for them…and (oops) sermonizing.
I hope this next year finds you leaning even more into God’s Word and all he longs for in you.
Or, I hope 2024 finds you even more “set[ting] the believers an example in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity” (1 Timothy 4:12). I’ll be cheering you on.
I have no doubt God will be working in your powerfully this next year.
End with expressing your unconditional love for your child. This affirms your note to your child wasn’t about your agenda, but about your overflowing affection.
See? You’ve got this. Even if you boil this down to a few simple sentences or even just a purposeful conversation, keep calling your child “further up, further in.” And in your own love, give them a template for God’s covenant love.
Know someone who might love this post? Forward it on!
My kids are getting older, which means winter break looks different here. Sniff.
Of course, we’ll still be decorating cookies and mushing together the family clam dip. (It’s a Breitenstein thing.)
But Christmas Eve, we’ll have three different pickups of three different kids: two teenagers have gone for more fun with relatives this week, and my oldest–the Marine–arrives from Camp Pendleton.
But that also means I’ve curated a stash of grown-up prizes to woo them: Garfield socks, Mandalorian Pez, Black Rifle Instant Coffee, watermelon bath bombs.
Because no matter their age, having ideas in your back pocket for kids on winter break is just plain fun. And trust me: You’ll want the memories.
But hey, tired parents: You are not the cruise director/court jester/general fun planner for your kids on winter break. There are great benefits to kids being bored– and there are even dangers to our kids having the expectation they will always be entertained.
That said–
Ideas for Kids on Winter Break
Have an old-fashioned taffy pull.
When we tried this with my kids and their cousins, I was delighted to hear my mom–who was admittedly a little skeptical of the potential mess–remark that this was a lot easier, cleaner, and faster than she thought! Try a recipe like this one.
Keep a good old-fashioned puzzle going, or a long-term strategy game.
Pop up a card table and allow family members to mill around a puzzle, or a game to ensue that normally you wouldn’t have time for (Monopoly, Axis and Allies, Risk, Settlers of Catan).
Have an indoor hot dog/marshmallow roast.
…Even if it’s just over your stove burner.
Don’t forget the s’mores! (Side story: We once constructed a pseudo-smore roast in Uganda. I loved our adult Mukonjo friend’s expression when he first tried one! “These are AMAZING!”)
Make simple T-shirts or bar towels with iron-ons.
Get this: You can print your own T-shirt iron-ons, using printer papers you find at, say, Walmart–like this or this. Or Michaels.com has some fun ones with sloths, mermaids, donuts, sushi…
Older kids might enjoy designing their own for free on Canva!
Stencil T-shirts.
With a fabric medium like this, you can add the medium to any color acrylic paint–and it automatically becomes a fabric paint!
This is how I created a Charlie Brown t-shirt for my son (the yellow one with the black zigzag at the bottom?). My daughter also has experimented with some beautiful feather stencils.
Pass on a family recipe.
Kids on winter break can be a little more open to learning new skills, and might even be kind of sentimental around all the Christmas sparkle. Maybe it’s grandma’s cinnamon rolls, like in my family. Teach your child how to make a heritage recipe this year.
Start a chapter book together.
School nights get a little crazy. But I have fond memories of reading Hatchet during bedtime reading (or at least started it; my kids got too anxious and finished it on their own. Not a bad thing).
This is a great plan for kids who struggle to settle down after a long day, and particularly for kids on winter break.
If you’re too bushed, plunder audio books as an alternative. My kids were able to understand more than they could read in elementary school, so it was fun to listen to books like The Candymakers or classics like The Boxcar Children.
To have on hand for the panhandlers in your city, kids on winter break can do what my sister prepared for all the nieces and nephews.
She placed one item from a list like this at a time in plastic wrap, and wrapped around it several times. In the same sheet of plastic wrap, she added another item, and kept wrapping.
(For a more environmentally friendly option, try hiding the items around the house.)
By the time all of the items for one bag were wrapped, she had a giant snowball of plastic wrap for each family–so fun for kids to pass around and pack for the homeless in resealable bags. (Bonus: It helps your kids see the homeless in your community and connect with them.)
Create a Christmas scavenger hunt.
I come from a family full of great ideas! One year, my sisters planned a massive scavenger hunt for our gifts for our nieces and nephews. The whole fam dressed in Christmas gear–the hats and headbands, the striped pants.
Through clues on strips of paper and vehicles at the ready, we led them to different locales around the city: Listening to a story read by Grandma in the children’s area of the bookstore. Getting cake pops at Starbucks. Singing Christmas carols to the pets at the pet store.
The kids L-O-V-E-D it, and we now have great memories around their small gifts from last year.
We’ve also done a version at the mall, where the adults dressed in disguise, and the kids had to find all of them.
Make Sand Art Brownies
for teachers, neighbors, etc. Here’s a good recipe! We used Christmas colors for the sugars, and tied directions onto the jars with twine.
This week, I’m welcoming guest authors Donna Kushner and Amy Schulte, a mother-daughter team who, in Amy’s childhood, served as missionaries in Palestine. Both currently work with refugees in professional and personal capacities. (I personally worked with Donna on a free resource to guide immigrant and refugee families into healing.)
Together with their Jewish heritage, Amy and Donna bring a unique perspective on how to talk with kids about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
To be clear, Hamas and Hezbollah are terrorist organizations, and their crimes are horrific. Yet they are not equivalent with Palestine—a state “comprising parts of modern Israel and the Palestinian territories of the Gaza Strip (along the coast of the Mediterranean Sea) and the West Bank (west of the Jordan River),” Brittanica writes.
One 2013 article estimates 200,000 Palestinian Christians reside in Israel. The U.S. Department of State estimates “50,000 Christian Palestinians reside in the West Bank and Jerusalem…there are at most 1,000 Christians residing in Gaza.” For many years, these believers have been targeted in persecution not only by Muslim extremists, but also by Jewish extremists, protected by the Israeli government. Romans 9:6-8 reminds us both Abraham’s biological offspring and these Palestinian brothers and sisters, too, are part of Abraham’s children and his promises.
The American church has deep sentiments about this conflict, currently donating in record numbers to relief efforts in Israel. No matter your current thoughts on the crisis, perhaps you’ll find these thoughts as enlightening as I did—and continue to pray for those in both sides of the conflict.
Where I Come From
=&0=& On October 7th, when I saw the news about what happened in Israel, my heart sank. The images and stories plastered all over the news horrified me.
I also knew what was going to come next.
I braced myself for the suffering that was about to be unleashed on Gaza. I am half-Jewish, and lived in Israel from age three to eight. But my parents worked with Palestinians, and I attended an Arab school. We sat with refugees in the West Bank, and we heard the stories.
I cannot be pro-Israel, despite the resounding Zionist chorus echoing from the American church. Firsthand I have experienced the history of the region and the many ways that the creation of Israel and its subsequent expansion led to the suffering of Palestinians who had lived there for hundreds of years.
I cannot be pro-Hamas, although I believe that without the suffering and oppression of Palestinians, Hamas would never have come to power. During my time in Israel, I lived through the terror of the first intifada–the first Palestinian uprising that began in 1987–and I can never condone the methods of terrorism.
I have often said that in this conflict, no one is righteous. I am grieved by all of it.
How I Talk with Kids About the Israel/Palestine Conflict
The next morning, I sat down with my 7-year-old and showed her a map of Israel. I pointed out Haifa and Jerusalem, cities she had visited on a family trip.
Then I pointed out Gaza and the West Bank, and I started to tell her about what had just happened, what would likely happen, and why we should care.
I told her some stories about my childhood in the region, and the extreme poverty of the Palestinians. I looked up the statistics, which indicated almost half of Gaza’s population are under the age of 18; 40% are under 14.
If we say that we care for the innocents, we cannot only care about the Israelis that were killed and taken hostage. As Christians, we must also care for the thousands who would be killed by Israel’s retaliation.
I reminded my daughter of our Muslim friends, and that they matter too. Jesus doesn’t just call us to love those who are like us.
In fact, we are most like Jesus when we care for the least, the lost, and the last. The millions of Palestinians trapped in Gaza definitely fit that description. We should also care about what happens to them, along with our compassion for Israel’s victims.
My Family’s Experience on the West Bank
=&2=& When I heard about the Hamas attacks in Israel my thoughts went immediately to a visit our family made many years ago to a refugee camp in Bethlehem on the West Bank.
It was our first time meeting refugees. I will never forget when one of the family’s seven children came running into their bare, concrete flat with a beautiful blue dress for our one-year-old daughter.
I was embarrassed to think about all the dresses hanging in my daughter’s closet back home. This family gave us a gift beyond their means, served us coffee and cake, and welcomed us, first as strangers, and then friends.
Our family has recalled this visit from time to time. I pray it instilled compassion in my kids they won’t easily forget.
The current conflict is a heartbreaking next step in decades of suffering. My heart aches every day as I read the news.
Why We Must Talk with Kids About the Israel-Palestine Conflict
Though hard to talk with kids about the Israel-Palestine Conflict, it is essential we do.
Most of our children will hear about this conflict. Our youngest children might just hear about it in passing or during prayers at church. Our older children might be watching it unfold online. If we fail to have these conversations we are, by default, giving the influence to the loudest voice in the room.
That voice may be the voice of someone who believes in a one-state solution which is an Arab state. Or someone who believes Israel should have every part of the land between the sea and the river. Or the voice of a moderate who desires peace and just solutions for all.
It is important to note that these voices are both inside and outside of the church.
So how do we talk to them about what is happening?
How to Talk with Kids about the Israel-Palestine Conflict
Do your research on this conflict and the 80 years of history before this—before you’re an unwitting contributor.
This article from Boston University points out how =&5=& both of which play no small role in the ongoing conflict itself. How we dialogue contributes to a war of public opinion.
So as a parent, be informed. Read about both sides of the conflict, not just now, but over the past 80 years.
Examine your own heart, your prejudices, your information sources. Spend time in prayer before speaking with your children.
Correcting Our Own Misinformation
Amy: In my work with refugees, we often mention how most refugees spend 10 to 15 years in the camps waiting for resettlement.
One day I was speaking with some co-workers, and we started discussing the history of the Palestinians. I realized that some Palestinians have been living in refugee camps since 1948. That’s 76 years!
We don’t read about this in the news. We might see something about the Gaza blockade, or the statistics of population and poverty, but we very rarely get to see the longer lens view of history that led to this point.
Donna: When we lived in the Middle East most of our time was spent inside the “Green Line” where Palestinians are Israeli citizens. We heard about the West Bank and Gaza from time to time, but in my heart, I didn’t really believe the people lived under occupation.
One summer we spent a month in Bethlehem, and witnessed the realities of life under occupation. We visited the camps, experienced water being turned off for large parts of the city regularly, and saw the squalor from lack of adequate sanitation. This was a completely different world than the one inside the Green Line.
Ask what information your kids have heard.
When you talk with kids about the Israel-Palestine conflict, it’s valuable to first ask questions before you teach.
Have they heard about what’s happening? What have they heard? How do they feel about it? What do they want to know?
Teach empathy.
As you choose to talk with kids about the Israel-Palestine conflict, it’s an opportunity for your child to develop and feel empathy for people they have never met.
Find a couple of age-appropriate stories you can share with your child–one from each side of the conflict. Help your child get to “know” real people and what they have experienced.
Remember the power of seeing through someone else’s eyes to defuse hatred and prejudice.
Challenge older kids to research all sides of the conflict.
Remind them to always question their sources. Social media is not considered a trustworthy source—but many adult news outlets also report slanted or inflammatory headlines.
Encourage them to ask, “Who might disagree with this headline, and why?”
This webpage also suggests asking thoughtful questions of news stories, like these:
From whose point of view is the news reported?
What are the unchallenged assumptions?
Do stereotypes skew coverage?
Is the language loaded?
Pray together for the people on both sides.
Ask your child what is on their heart to pray about.
If they’re old enough, let them lead you both through a time of prayer for the people of Israel and Palestine–maybe with an online prayer guide. Perhaps ask your kids if they’d like to give to a humanitarian organization to help victims from both Israel and Palestine.
Find ways to meet Jews and Palestinians in your community.
Proximity–seeing Jews or Palestinians across a cup of coffee, or in your hometown–puts faces to what is often just a series of news updates on your phone.
You might already know Jews in your community or even through your church.
As Christians, it is less likely that you know any Palestinians, but we guarantee they are there in your community. Look up Arab restaurants and go have a great meal. Making it clear your purpose is to show kindness, ask if anyone in the restaurant is Palestinian. Ask them about how they are doing. That bit of compassion will mean the world to them.
Remind younger children that they are safe.
The news is filled with stories of the innocents–including children and women–who were killed in the initial attack and more of who are dying daily in the continued bombing of Gaza.
It’s okay to feel sad and to grieve the loss of life as you talk with kids about the Israel-Palestine conflict. But in light of anxiety-inducing headlines and conversation, remind your children that they are safe. Allow grief to soften your hearts to pray and advocate for those suffering.
Spend some time with your child walking through Scripture.
Start with the many ways that God calls His people to seek justice, fight oppression, care for the poor, and welcome the sojourner–i.e the refugee.
These verses can get you started.
Isaiah 1:16-17
“Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean; remove the evil of your deeds from before my eyes; cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow’s cause.”
Zechariah 7:10
“Do not oppress the widow, the fatherless, the sojourner, or the poor, and let none of you devise evil against another in your heart.”
Exodus 22:21
“You shall not wrong a sojourner or oppress him, for you were sojourners in the land of Egypt.”
Jeremiah 22:3
“This is what the Lord says: Do what is just and right. Rescue from the hand of the oppressor the one who has been robbed. Do no wrong or violence to the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place.”
Deuteronomy 10:18-19
“He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing. And you are to love those who are foreigners, for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt.”
John 13:34-35
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
=&21=&Amy’s mom, works with immigrants and refugees in her community. She and her family served overseas for five years among Palestinians. Donna loves embracing Jewish traditions, particularly in light of her husband’s Jewish background. She especially loves celebrating Passover because Jesus has a clear seat at the table.
=&22=& Donna’s daughter, loves her half-Jewish heritage. She also spent five years living amongst the Palestinians, and another two years living in the Arab Gulf region. She currently works at a refugee resettlement agency and is raising an inquisitive 7-year-old daughter and a stepson who is a senior in high school.
I'm totally #thatmom--the one diving into all the weirdness with my kids, sidestepping a few eyerolls.
Pull up a chair for practical ideas and discussions on the parenting, relationships, and spirituality we're all army-crawling through every day. After five and a half years in Uganda, my family and I returned to the U.S., where I write and speak professionally, and we continue to work on behalf of the poor. My first solo book, Permanent Markers: Spiritual Life Skills to Write on Your Kids' Hearts (Harvest House), released October 2021.
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