Pray the Hardest, when it is the hardest to pray

Over the last two days, I have recognized an important pattern in the way I support children who are emotionally or behaviorally dysregulated. What people often describe simply as “patience” is actually a larger professional skill set. When a child is having a difficult moment, I naturally tend to: • Notice changes in the child’s behavior and emotional state. • Read nonverbal cues and recognize when the child is becoming dysregulated. • Lower my own voice, energy, and intensity instead of matching the child’s escalation. • Remain calm and give the child time to process. • Listen to what the child is communicating. • Build connection and reassurance. • Use simple, consistent behavioral boundaries. • Adjust my response to the individual child instead of treating every situation the same. • Help the child move toward emotional and behavioral regulation. • Maintain connection while still holding the child accountable for appropriate behavior. Professional terms that describe these strength...

There is another piece of today’s realization that belongs in the story: Nathan. Seeing Nathan again didn’t create my interest in child development, life skills, or occupational therapy. Those pieces were already part of me. But seeing him again—and then going back through my shelter memories and stories—seems to have brought an old part of myself back into focus. I realized Nathan and I may have had more professional common ground than I understood when we worked together. The shelter wasn’t simply about helping children with schoolwork. We were working with kids who needed adults to help with routines, relationships, behavior, emotions, communication, independence, and everyday life skills. We were both part of teaching children how to do life. Maybe that’s part of why he has remained meaningful to me. Caring for children has always mattered deeply to me, and I worked alongside someone who also chose work centered around helping children. I can’t know exactly what Nathan thinks or fe...

Today I realized something important about my career and my child development degree. For years, I sometimes thought I had chosen the wrong degree. I knew child development was broader than an education degree, but I never really understood why that mattered to me. Now, after all these years working with children, I think I finally have words for it: I teach children how to do life. I have always thought of myself as someone who teaches children, but teaching doesn’t only mean academics. Daycare and preschool taught children how to share, communicate, follow routines, manage emotions, become independent, solve problems, and live alongside other people. At the shelter, so much of what we taught was life skills—not just schoolwork. We were helping the whole child. That also helps me understand why my child development degree fit me better than I realized. I wasn’t only interested in what children needed to know academically. I was interested in how they grow socially, emotionally, physic...

Today I realized that my frustration at school is showing me something important about where I may want to go next. This afternoon, I literally found myself running part of the classroom. I noticed that the kids needed something more purposeful than simply watching videos. One child wanted to work at his desk, so I had him work there. That made me think about all of the task boxes we’ve made that aren’t really being used. Why not start using them a little at a time? These kids may be older, but in some areas they need routines taught in small, concrete steps. We don’t have to introduce an entire system at once. We can teach one piece first: Desk time → one task box → finish it → put it away. Once they understand that routine, another piece can be added. The goal isn’t rigidity. It’s purposeful structure and eventually more independence. And then I realized why I’m getting so frustrated: Why am I the one noticing these things when I’m the para and I’m getting paid the least? The answer ...

The more I thought about this season, the more the word “bookmark” seemed to fit. My old co-worker wasn’t the story. The children were the story. But seeing someone again who was connected to that old chapter of my life became like a bookmark—something that helped me find my place again. A bookmark literally connects two moments in reading: where you stopped and where you begin again. Metaphorically, it can connect two seasons of life too. I was living my current chapter when someone from an old chapter suddenly appeared. That made me reopen pages I hadn’t looked at in years. I found old journals, remembered the children, rediscovered dreams and lessons I had almost forgotten, and began looking at those lessons through the woman I am now. The bookmark wasn’t the destination. It simply marked a place I needed to return to. And maybe that is one of the strangest and most beautiful parts: a PERSON became the bookmark. My old co-worker didn’t write those old chapters, and he didn’t create ...

Today I realized something important: I don’t want to simply supervise children. I want my time with them to help them grow. I got into childcare because I wanted to work with children—not spend my days managing adults. I want to work with the kids. I don’t want to manage all the adults so that I can work with the kids. I don’t want either extreme I’ve experienced in the classroom. Last year felt too rigid, and this year doesn’t have enough structure. What I’m looking for is rhythm. Routine enough to feel safe, flexibility enough to grow. I want structure with a purpose. And maybe that’s why this job has been bothering me so much lately. I’m not necessarily tired of working with children. I may be tired of being the unofficial adult-in-charge while officially being the para. I don’t want to spend my career simply getting children through the hours. I never wanted simply to pass the hours with children. I wanted the hours I was given with them to mean something. That’s what my book Star...