“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). 

Luke 18:17 says, “Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it” (ESV).

When we have no idea what’s going on or what’s going to happen next, we can find our solid ground in the one who is the author of all things, who has a plan for our lives and well-being, and who promises to turn everything to good for His children, those who are “called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28). He provides grounding through the people of His church, all of whom He has woven together in the tapestry of our lives as the Body of Christ. 

My three-year-old and one-year-old had just thrown F5-level meltdowns for the first fifteen minutes of church (some of it in the pew, some of it in the nursery, some outside … you get the picture). We somehow rallied and stumbled back to our tornado of a pew.

Food insecurity is a silent battle. You cannot always tell who is struggling with hunger. And too often shame is placed on those who are unable to access food and are under the federal poverty level. Frequently, it isn’t just those under the federal poverty level who experience food insecurity but instead a group known as the ALICE population: Asset Limited, Income Constrained, and Employed.

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.  

If you asked me about my earliest memories in the Dominican Republic (DR), I’d list being sandwiched between two then-seminary students farthest afield (Chile and Spain) in an airless backseat, a steeply inclined road with a sheer drop-off on one side, neon-colored chicks, and a little boy nestled between his grandmother’s legs in prayer posture.  

These snippets can only add up to one thing: visits.  

We are now entering the one time of year in our world that is focused on being generous, giving back, and serving our neighbors. Bell ringers at stores, social media posts of friends serving meals at soup kitchens, and mailouts requesting donations during the “season of giving” are everywhere. Good works seem to be very visible this time of year. 

Scripture guides us, teaches us about salvation, and communicates the kingdom of God to us. In daily family life, we ought to ever turn to the Word and to works that keep the Word as their focal point to cultivate our faith. 

Psalm 119:15–16 states, “I will meditate on your precepts and fix my eyes on your ways. I will delight in your statutes; I will not forget your word.” When I read this verse, I cannot help but feel just slightly guilty. You see, I definitely do not know Scripture as well as I would like. I feel like I have a pretty good excuse, I wasn’t raised with the Bible in my household. But at the end of the day, it’s an excuse. Psalm 119 not only reminds me of my desire to remember God’s Word but that I desire for my children to have the Word stored up in their hearts (see Psalm 119:11).