"Some People Believe..."

Some People Believe...

My children were exposed to religion the way I once understood it myself—factually. Some people believe this. Some people do that.

I offered faith like a landscape you could walk through if you wanted, but never a road you had to take. I trusted that if belief mattered, it would find them in its own time, the way I hoped it would one day find me.

Now they are on their own paths.

They sit beside me in church, quietly drawing on their notepads, secretly enjoying the sermons while pretending not to listen. My daughter has begun to take responsibility for praying at dinner, speaking to the Lord as if He were sitting right there at the table—casual, familiar, unafraid. Her brother makes faces.

It feels like a parable already.

The Holdout

My son surprises me most.

Once, when he was barely able to read, he walked into a historic church, picked up a hymn book, and sang hymns—perfectly—on his own. No prompting. No instruction. Just sound and confidence and memory that felt older than him.

At the time, I was shocked. I thought this must mean the Holy Spirit is already within him. I assumed that moment would mark something clear and linear.

And yet, in our family, he is the holdout.

Not resistant exactly—just thoughtful, careful, unwilling to surrender his agency too easily. He contends most with an idea I once offered him: that conscience is the Holy Spirit. For him, that framing feels dangerous. If conscience is God, then where is choice? Where is freedom?

He worries that belief would mean he has none.

I have tried to clarify—conscience is the voice, but the choice is always your own. Still, the tension remains. And I see now that this tension itself is holy.

What I Am Learning to Release

I have been surprised by my daughter—by the joy, love, and comfort she has found in church. And I am learning to be surprised without trying to manage the outcome.

I need to give this to the Lord.

To trust that He will guide my daughter to remain true in His word—not because I watch carefully, but because He does.

And to trust that my son will one day see what is already true: that he has always been guided by goodness, that the choices he has made have been his own, and that most of them bend naturally toward love, justice, and care.

Perhaps the Spirit has been quieter with him, or perhaps simply less named.

What Faith Looks Like Now

Faith, I am learning, is not always immediate agreement. Sometimes it is resistance that still leans toward goodness. Sometimes it is hymn-singing before belief. Sometimes it is prayer spoken casually at the dinner table.

And sometimes it is a mother standing back, hands open, trusting that what she cannot orchestrate has already been held.

🌱 Good Beet Reflection

Where have you mistaken certainty for faith—or resistance for absence?

What might change if you trusted that goodness itself is already a form of guidance?