The night before school started, I was tucking in my daughter, just like I’ve done countless times before, but as I pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and settled in beside her, something shifted.

She started to cry.

Now, she’s definitely not my most sensitive child — that’s my son. He wears his heart on his sleeve and feels everything deeply. But my daughter is usually composed, independent, strong. So her tears caught me completely off guard.

I gently asked her what was wrong. She hesitated for a moment, then whispered, “I’m going to miss you tomorrow.”

Oh man. My heart just about broke.

That moment — those quiet, vulnerable words — said so much. Underneath the back-to-school nerves, the new clothes, the growing independence, she was still just a little girl who needed her mom. She was still holding on, even if she didn’t always show it.

She had a hard time settling down that night. Her body was tired, but her mind and emotions were still racing. She finally asked, “Mom, can you sing to me?”

I hadn’t sung her to sleep in years, that was something I always needed to do with my son when he was younger. As I got through a few lullaby’s and jingle bells since I forgot all the words to the other traditional songs …she calmed down and fell asleep.

In that moment, I found myself reflecting on how easy it is to forget how young our teens still are. They’re growing up in a world that pushes them to mature so quickly. The way they dress, the makeup tutorials they watch, the pressure to start dating, the constant presence of social media — it all creates the illusion that they’re older than they are. More independent. More self-assured.

But moments like this strip all of that away.

Underneath the surface, they are still children. They still need comfort. They still crave security. They still want to be held, listened to, and loved deeply. They’re figuring out the world, their emotions, and themselves — and in that journey, they need a safe place to land.

I see this in my 14-year-old son, too. He still curls up next to me on the couch without hesitation. He still wants me to tuck him in at night, scratch his back, and sit with him when big feelings start to bubble up.

It’s not always easy for them to let their guard down. “It’s embarrassing”…and I get it, it’s not easy for any of us. Vulnerability can feel risky. We’re often told to toughen up, hide our feelings, keep it together. But what I’ve learned — especially through parenting — is that vulnerability is not weakness. It’s actually one of the most powerful forms of connection.

One of the greatest lessons the Lord has taught me in this season, is the beauty of being vulnerable. It’s what connects us as human beings. It reminds us that we’re not alone. At our core, every single one of us just wants to feel safe, loved, accepted, and understood.

When I stay vulnerable with my kids, I give them permission to do the same. When I let them see my own soft spots — my fears, my tears, my moments of not having it all together — their walls start to come down too. And those are the moments I treasure most. The real ones. The raw ones. The ones where love speaks louder than words ever could.

I truly believe the Lord designed us for relationship — first with Him, and then with each other. That deep desire to feel connected, to feel seen and loved, comes from Him. And when I finally understood that, something in me shifted. My soul felt at rest. That inner peace I had always been searching for — I found it in the Lord.

This life moves fast. It’s a constant go-go-go. And in the rush, people are seeking validation and acceptance in so many places — in accomplishments, in appearance, in approval from others. But I want my kids to know something far deeper: they are already fully loved and fully accepted — not just by me, but by the Lord.

Because it’s in Him that we find the lasting peace, identity, and contentment our souls crave. And it’s through His love that I’m learning how to love my kids more fully, more openly, and with greater vulnerability.

“Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.”

— Psalm 91:1, NLT