The Holy Interruption: Finding Discipleship in the Unplanned Moments of Parenting

I had just sat down for my own scripture study and the house was quiet for the first time all day. My journal was open and my pencil was in my hand and a verse I had been meaning to sit with for a week was waiting. I took a breath and read the first line and then the toddler appeared in the doorway with a sippy cup that needed refilling and a face that said she had been crying and a question about why the dog had to go to the vet and could she have a snack and also she wanted to show me something.

I put the pencil down and I have been trying to figure out what to do with this pattern for about twelve years now. The moment I carve out for the spiritual work I think I am supposed to be doing is the exact moment the real spiritual work shows up in a different form.

Teaching Gospel in Unplanned Moments LDS

I used to think discipleship happened in the spaces I set aside for it. Morning scripture study and evening prayer and the lesson I prepared for Family Home Evening. Those were the sacred slots and everything else was just the noise I had to get through to reach them.

The toddler kept needing things and the second-grader kept having feelings about school and the middle-schooler kept asking questions at the wrong time and the teenager kept wanting to talk at 10:00 PM when I was already exhausted. I spent years feeling like I was failing at the spiritual life because I could not protect the sacred slots from the interruptions.

I wrote about this in The Grace of the Unfinished Lesson because I keep learning the same thing in different rooms of my house. The interruptions are not obstacles to the gospel and they never were. They are the primary venue where the gospel gets applied in real time. The Savior showed us this over and over when He was on His way to heal a dying girl and the woman with the issue of blood reached for His hem. He was traveling through Samaria when He stopped at a well and talked to a woman who was not supposed to be there. His most important moments happened in the margins of His itinerary.

And Jesus, immediately knowing in himself that virtue had gone out of him, turned him about in the press and said, Who touched my clothes? (Mark 5:30)

I read that verse and I think about what it means to be interrupted the way He was interrupted. To feel something leave you in the middle of what you were doing and turn around and pay attention to the person who needed you.

LDS Parenting and the Holy Spirit

The hardest shift for me has been learning to recognize the Holy Spirit in the interruptions. I was trained as a teacher and I know how to plan a lesson and execute it and measure whether it worked. But parenting does not work that way and the Spirit does not work that way either.

I have started to notice that the moments when I feel the most spiritually alive are rarely the moments I planned for. They are the moments when a child asks a question I did not expect and I have to stop and think before I answer. The moment when the toddler is crying and I am tired and I choose to sit on the floor instead of walk away. The moment when the teenager says something honest and vulnerable and I realize she has been waiting for me to be quiet long enough to say it.

These are not interruptions to the spiritual life. They are the spiritual life.

I used to think that the promise of the Holy Ghost would teach us all things meant during formal study. But I have started to see it in the everyday moments too. A verse comes to mind while I am washing dishes and patience I did not know I had shows up when the toddler spills her milk for the third time. Words come out of my mouth when I stop trying to control the conversation and let the Spirit lead it.

How to Handle Toddler Tantrums With Grace LDS

The toddler had a tantrum in the grocery store last week. Full on the floor, legs kicking, face red, everyone looking and I stood there with a cart full of produce and a second-grader who was embarrassed and a middle-schooler who was pretending he did not know us. Every instinct told me to fix it, to pick her up and leave and get out of the situation as fast as possible.

But I had been sitting with something that week about what it means to respond instead of react. So I knelt down on the floor of the produce section and I waited. I did not try to reason with her or bribe her or threaten her. I just stayed close and let her feel what she was feeling.

It took four minutes and I know because the middle-schooler timed it on his watch. She stopped crying and climbed into my lap and I held her for another minute while people walked around us with their carts. Then she said she was ready to go and she picked up a banana and put it in the cart and the rest of the shopping trip was fine.

I am sharing this story not because I handled it perfectly but because I nearly chose a different response. There was a moment when I almost picked her up and left and felt like a failure and let the shame of the public moment drive my decision. But the grace to stay on the floor came from somewhere outside myself. That is what I mean when I say the reaction is the lesson.

The way I respond to my children in their hardest moments teaches them more about the character of God than any formal lesson on the Atonement ever could. When I stay calm in the middle of a tantrum, I am showing them what it looks like to be loved unconditionally. An apology after I lose my temper shows them what repentance looks like in real time. Choosing connection over control shows them what the gospel actually does in a human heart.

Finding Spiritual Meaning in Chaotic Parenting LDS

I stopped measuring by whether I got through my scripture study and started measuring by whether I was present when my children needed me. I stopped measuring by whether the house was quiet for prayer and started measuring by whether I prayed in the middle of the noise. That shift changed everything.

The toddler asks the same question about heaven every night before bed. My second-grader wants to know if I will remember her when I am old. The middle-schooler wants to know if God is real or if we just believe He is because we were raised that way. My teenager wants to know if I have ever doubted and what I did about it.

These questions do not come at convenient times. They come at bedtime when I am tired and in the car when I am trying to focus on traffic and at the dinner table when someone is reaching for the salt. But they are the most important conversations I will have with my children. And they will not happen if I am too committed to my plan to notice them.

I wrote about this in Finding the Sacred in the In-Between Moments of Motherhood because I keep coming back to the same truth. The sacred is not hiding from the chaos. It is moving through it, showing up in the middle of the mess.

Integrating Faith Into Daily Routines With Children

I keep a scripture open on the kitchen counter and I read a verse out loud while I am making breakfast. I say a prayer in the car on the way to school even if it is short and the kids are arguing in the back seat. My toddler tells me what she thinks about God and I listen to her answer even when it does not make sense. This is what the practical part looks like for me.

I have stopped waiting for the perfect moment to teach the gospel. The perfect moment lives only in my imagination. The moment I have is the one in front of me and it is usually messy and loud and full of interruptions. But the mess has become the point.

My toddler interrupts my scripture study and she is also the scripture study. The second-grader distracts me from prayer and she is also the prayer. The middle-schooler asks his questions at the wrong time and that is the only time he has to ask them. My teenager keeps me from the spiritual work I planned and she is also the spiritual work I need.

Frequently Asked Questions

How do I balance structured family study with the unpredictability of children?

Think of the structure as a guide, not a mandate. If a child is struggling or a meaningful conversation comes up, let the connection win over the checklist. The Spirit often speaks most clearly during the interruptions that break our rigid plans. A short prayer in the car is worth more than a long one that never happened because you were waiting for the house to be quiet.

What is the most effective way to use a holy interruption to teach a gospel principle?

Instead of launching into a formal lesson, share a simple honest observation about God's love or offer a quick prayer that ties the moment to a spiritual truth. A two-minute testimony in the middle of brushing teeth can stick longer than a thirty-minute lesson that felt forced. Keep it brief and let the moment guide you.

How can I stop feeling like I am failing when my planned spiritual activities fall apart?

Shift how you measure success. Success means the quality of the relationship and the atmosphere of love in your home. It has nothing to do with finishing the activity. When you respond to chaos with grace, you are giving your children a living example of the Atonement. That is the most powerful lesson you can teach.

What if I feel like I never have time for my own spiritual growth?

The spiritual growth is happening in the interruptions. Patience you practice with a crying toddler is spiritual growth. Honesty you show when you apologize to your teenager is spiritual growth. The prayer you whisper while you are loading the dishwasher counts. You are not failing at the spiritual life. You are living it in a way that looks different from what you expected.

How do I teach my children about God when I am exhausted and overwhelmed?

Keep it small. A single sentence about God's love while you are buckling a car seat. Quick prayer of gratitude before a meal. A verse read out loud while you are stirring something on the stove. The small moments add up and your children are learning from your presence and your patience more than they are learning from your words.

The toddler is asleep and the second-grader left her shoes in the middle of the kitchen floor and the middle-schooler is practicing his swing in the backyard and my teenager just texted me from her room asking if I want to watch a show with her. I was going to finish this article tonight. But she asked and I am going to go sit with her instead.

That is the holy interruption.

with love, Melissa