Adele Werner

Talking with children about death is never easy. As parents and caregivers, we may feel unsure of what to say or how much to share—especially when our own hearts are heavy. Yet as Christians, we do not face these conversations without hope: In Jesus, we can speak truthfully about death while pointing our children to the promise of life everlasting.

My mother-in-law loves to tell this story of her youngest child on the bus. It goes something like this. My sister-in-law rode the bus to get to school every day. Because of how rowdy kids can be on a bus (whether they’re riding for 5 minutes or 50), the bus driver had decided that it was necessary to assign seats. She would bring her Bible with her on the bus and one day she started reading parts of it to the younger girl who was her assigned bus buddy.

In the book of Joshua, the Lord supernaturally intercedes and allows His people to cross an overflowing Jordan River by using the ark of the covenant to stop the river from flowing. Following this incredible miracle, He instructs His people to grab twelve stones from the dry riverbed as a testament to future generations of the miracle He had done. Today, we’ll unpack what this means and how we can adopt the same idea with our own children.

The second my daughters get in the door after day care, they’re asking for a snack. I’m usually cooking dinner already, and often I’m nearly finished. Do you think that matters to my toddlers? 

I was reminded recently that I’ll soon be entering a stage of life where my children will deal with bullies. Time has removed me from the days when I was on the receiving end of bad treatment from people who didn’t like me. And it has also afforded me compassion for those bad actors. But I know soon my children will come face to face with bullying of some sort. While I pray that they aren’t too affected by the actions of others, I want them to have the courage, patience, and compassion to handle bullying with an eye toward their neighbor. I need to instill in them the knowledge and comfort that Jesus sees their pain, relates to it, and loves unconditionally.

We live in a broken world. It doesn’t take too long to see that. As we all have aged, we’ve had to learn how to do our best to live in this reality in a God-pleasing way. We fail often, but we know there is forgiveness and grace. Our kids learn these same lessons and, like we did, often learn them the hard way.

The day I was baptized was a cold day in December. It was five days before Christmas and nearly 17.75 years after my earthly entrance. My pastor helped me to keep the Fourth Commandment by honoring my father and mother’s wishes to have a “private” Baptism, with just close friends and family in attendance. My sponsors are my youth group leader and my friend’s mom. That day was all sorts of things, and I felt all sorts of feelings—but the biggest one was peace. Most people I sit with in the pew don’t remember their baptismal day, and my children won’t remember theirs either. Because I remember mine, I want each of you to remember and celebrate yours and your children’s. 

It’s a tough season for my family. It’s not the toughest it could be. We’re all (mostly) healthy. We’re not looking to move or leave our jobs anytime soon. We’ve settled into a rhythm of sorts. And yet, we feel a bit more strapped and stressed than ever. If I’m being honest, I want a roadmap out of the tough. Maybe you can relate to this feeling?

“I don’t want to pray right now,” my two-and-a-half-year-old says. I know that these words don’t actually mean she doesn’t want the comfort of prayer, but she doesn’t want to go to bed. She’s tucked into her soft pink blankets, her purple bunny (affectionately called Floppy) is tucked under her arm, and her head is on the pillow. My husband and I are always flustered when this happens, even though it’s practically become a nightly occurrence. But we value prayer and so we press her to find something she wants to pray for (right now, we often thank God for princess dresses). 

We long for deep community. We strive for healthy and helpful relationships with family members, church people, and neighbors. But if we’re honest with ourselves, especially as parents, we usually stay in that longing spot. We want the village, but we don’t feel like we can do anything about it.