Raising Kids, Tripping Over Legos, and Becoming Holy
- rmasinter
- May 7
- 2 min read
One of the real challenges of parenting is that, despite the occasional moment of triumph, most hours and days are filled with plain old uninspired exhaustion. Every parent treasures those all-too-brief bursts of euphoria—the perfect parent-child conversation, the heart-melting hug, the whispered bedtime confidence. But it’s a lot harder to feel like the “perfect mom” when you’re separating bickering siblings, sorting laundry, and tripping over Legos. It’s much easier to imagine ourselves as wise, calm, loving parents when the kids are asleep, the house is clean, and we’re well-rested.
(In other words: never.)
We face a similar dilemma in our spiritual lives. It’s easy to feel serene while meditating alone by the sea, but far more difficult in rush-hour traffic. We may believe we’ve let go of old wounds, until we’re face-to-face with extended family at a reunion.
This is exactly why the commandment “You shall be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy” (Leviticus 19:2) wasn’t whispered privately to Moses on a mountaintop. It was spoken to the entire congregation of Israel. Rabbi Moshe Alshich (1508–1593) explains that this was intentional: holiness isn’t something we’re meant to pursue in solitude, but together—in community, in relationship, in the messiness of real life.
Yes, it’s easier to feel holy on a quiet mountain. And it’s certainly easier to feel like a perfect mom before you’ve had children. But true spiritual growth doesn’t happen in isolation. It happens in the thick of things—in the chaos, the compromise, and the connection. We reach for holiness not in spite of our families and communities, but through them.
It’s easy to be patient, calm, joyous, faithful, and serene in our imaginations. But those qualities don’t develop in stillness and silence—they’re cultivated in the daily grind of real life. God isn’t asking us to be holy far from the noise. He’s asking us to be holy right here. To engage. To raise families. To live in community. To let our relationships refine us even when they feel messy and uninspiring.
It turns out that parenting in the trenches, raising kids among the squabbles, Legos, and dirty dishes is the true path to greatness. We reach for holiness not in spite of our families—but through them.
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