By Jamie Roach
I remember standing at one of my son’s football practices feeling the tension building in me as I watched things unfold. It looked to me like he wasn’t being given a fair shot at the position he’d been working toward, and I could feel two very different impulses rising up almost at the same time. One part of me wanted to call the coach and let him have it – to step in and make sure things were handled the way I thought they should be. Another part of me wanted to go the opposite direction, to back away, tell myself it wasn’t a big deal, and hope it would just work itself out. Neither felt like a great option, but both felt real. I felt pulled.
I’ve come to notice how often parenting puts us in that same place, somewhere between the urge to step in and control what’s happening and the urge to step back and avoid it altogether, especially when things feel uncertain or not quite right. Most of us tend to lean one way or the other. Which response feels most natural to you?
Both impulses make sense. Parenting presses in on us in ways we don’t always expect, and when we care deeply, it’s easy to find ourselves either trying to manage too much or quietly pulling back just to get some space. But over time, it becomes clear that neither constant control nor quiet avoidance leads where we hope. Children don’t flourish when everything is managed for them, and they don’t do well without enough support and structure. Seeking to either control what is happening or avoid it altogether are both strategies when the internal suffering becomes more than we can handle.
What our children actually need most is something both simpler and harder to give – a parent who is present. Sociologist Hartmut Rosa uses the word resonance to describe this kind of connection – something that can’t be forced or controlled, but can be experienced when we are present and responsive to one another. And in a lot of ways, that’s what our kids are longing for. They are looking for parents who can tolerate the internal discomfort without becoming rigid or running away. By showing up in this way, a parent’s presence begins to shape the tone of the home.
And that kind of presence doesn’t start with new strategies as much as it starts with awareness. Children are remarkably sensitive to the emotional life of a home; they pick up on what we carry whether we say it out loud or not. And over time, they are shaped less by what we tell them than by how we show up. If we are anxious or reactive, they feel that. And if we are able, even imperfectly, to remain grounded and attentive, they feel that too. Which means the work of parenting often begins in places we don’t always think to look – within our own reactions, our own stress, our own internal world.
Scripture speaks to this in a way that is both simple and searching: “Be alert and of sober mind.” Pay attention. Not just to what is happening around you, but to what is happening within you, because so much of how we respond to our kids is shaped by things we haven’t fully noticed yet. And as we begin to notice, even a little, it creates space. A small pause where we don’t have to react in the same way we always have, where we can hold what we’re feeling without immediately acting on it. Sometimes that means waiting before we speak. Sometimes it means coming back later and repairing what didn’t go well. And sometimes it just means staying present when it would be easier to check out.
For those of us trying to follow Jesus, there is a quiet kind of hope in this – that we are not left to figure it out on our own, that God is at work within us over time, forming something we can’t rush or manufacture. And as we begin to trust that, even in small ways, we find ourselves less driven by the need to control everything and less likely to withdraw when things feel uncertain. Instead, we begin to stay. Not perfectly, but more consistently. We stay engaged. We stay attentive. We stay connected. And over time, that kind of presence becomes something our children can lean on, not because it removes difficulty, but because it gives them a place to return to in the middle of it.
As our kids grow, the form of that presence shifts, and this is where things can get a little unclear. What worked when they were younger doesn’t always carry forward in the same way. There’s a gradual movement from holding on more tightly to learning how to loosen our grip without losing connection, from managing more directly to listening more carefully. That tension doesn’t really go away – we just learn, slowly, how to live within it.
At every stage, what seems to matter most is not how well we manage outcomes, but whether our children experience us as present – whether we are paying attention, whether we are curious about who they are, whether we are willing to listen without immediately correcting or fixing. That kind of parenting doesn’t always feel dramatic, and it rarely gives us quick results, but over time it shapes something deeper—trust, connection, a sense of being known.
And in a world that pulls us so easily toward anxiety on one side and control on the other, that quiet, steady presence may be one of the most important gifts we have to give.
About Jamie Roach: Jamie has served on the staff of Youthfront for 35 years, working with students, parents and youth workers. His passion is seeing people live their best life. Jamie is a spiritual director, author, communicator and Licensed Professional Counselor at Youthfront’s affiliate, Presence-Centered Counseling. He received his Master of Divinity degree from Nazarene Theological Seminary and a Master of Arts in Counseling from Mid-America Nazarene University. Jamie loves Nebraska football, reading, walks in the woods and hanging out with his family. Jamie and his wife Lea Ann have four adult children and four grandchildren.
