I’ve been thinking a lot about this Taylor Swift song lately. As a human in the 21st century, as a Christian in the 21st century, and as a sensitive person in the 21st century, it is such a vulnerable and scary thing to raise a child. I simultaneously want to have my kid be a little more independent and also to stay little. I want the world to be simple, the problems to be simple, the friendship-making process be simple, and to protect my child from a world that I know all too well can sometimes be cruel, exclusive, judgmental, and terrifying.

I want to keep my sweet boy and my future little chickadee to be treated with kindness. I want them to be kind and responsible and loving, and not be punished for being kind and responsible and loving by other kids. I want them to tell them to come up to me and pull my hand to show me something into their adult years. I want them to know that God is real in their bones, and to live like it. I want them to be able to see beauty and avoid mental breakdown. I hope they never experience war or sexual abuse. And if my son stays this little, then most of those concerns are answered.

But the reality is, fighting time is always fighting a losing battle. It comes for us all.

And so while I’d love for my son to not be treated with the cruelty that 10-year-old boys exhibited in front of adults at the pool gaga court two weeks ago, I cannot prevent it. While I’d love to isolate a world where children are influenced to embrace lifestyles that they would have not considered simply because now it is a widespread option or choice, I cannot.

But what I can do…all I can do…is entrust them to God. My children will be punished for being kind and responsible by other kids who are hurting (as I was). They will look to their friends for acceptance and value and socialization more than their Momma at some point. They will question whether God is real. They may experience depression, anxiety or OCD. I cannot be with them at all time as they make choices about sexual activity, or shelter them completely from predators. I cannot choose their gender identity or sexual preference for them.

All I can do…is entrust them to God. I can trust that God will soothe the wounds of rejection. I can trust that God can help them through their dark night of the soul, as He helped me through mine. I can trust that God will help me raise children who are willing to stand firm in their personal choices of abstinence of pre-marital sex and acting on sexual identity/sexual preferences that he does not want them to act on. I can trust that God can help me raise children who are kind to those who are different and do live out those preferences, but seek His truth for their lives, however hard it makes it. And not just for sexual choices, but equally as serious for the sins of pride, envy, anger, laziness, gluttony, sloth, and lust.

All I can do…is daily try to live this out. Daily try to pray this out in my own life and for their lives. I believe that God is real and the Bible is real and the Holy Spirit is real and heaven and hell are real. And so as my darlings grow up, yes, I hope to put down the kindling for the Holy Spirit to light the spark of true, authentic, humble, bold faith.

So maybe amidst all the diaper changing, park playdates, exhausted couch sessions, endless walks and playtime outside, I can make time, even now, to teach myself about worship and sacrifice–to live out my faith for me–and them, understanding that there are no guarantees, but entrusting myself to God too in the uncertainty.