The 'Un-Slick' Family Prayer: Finding Sacredness in Interruption

The toddler had my knee in a grip that suggested she was physically bracing against the spiritual exercise about to begin. Somewhere in the living room a plastic dinosaur was clattering across the floor in a way that suggested the middle-schooler was using it as a projectile rather than an object of study. The second-grader had her eyes open and was staring at a smudge on the wall as if it contained the secrets of the universe. And I was kneeling there trying to find a single holy thought to start our family prayer, feeling the weight of the room pressing in on a silence that was nowhere to be found.

I could feel the familiar tightness in my chest, the one that says this is not working. The picture in the manual shows a family kneeling in a line with everyone still, and this is not that picture. This is a child biting a knee and a dinosaur hitting a lamp and a prayer that has not even started yet.

I almost called the whole thing off. But the teenager was already waiting with folded arms and I had already called everyone in and I was kneeling on the floor with a toddler attached to my leg. So I took a breath and started anyway.

How to Do Family Prayer with Toddlers

Here is what I wish someone had told me twelve years ago when the oldest was small and I thought every prayer had to look like a Primary manual illustration. The goal is not a silent room. The goal is that the family prayed together, because that is the commandment. "Pray in your families unto the Father, always in my name." The direction is to pray. It does not say pray in a straight line with eyes closed and hands folded for the full duration.

Pray in your families unto the Father, always in my name, that your wives and your children may be blessed. - 3 Nephi 18:21

I think the second half of that verse is the part I missed for years. The prayer is meant to bless the family. If my toddler is being asked to kneel still and silent for something she does not understand yet, am I blessing her or frustrating her? I started asking different questions. Instead of "how do I get this prayer to look right," I started asking "how do I get this prayer to feel right for the people in this room."

With toddlers that meant shorter prayers and more acceptance that a knee grip and a wiggle and an open eye were not signs of spiritual failure. They were signs of being three years old.

Dealing with Interruptions during Family Prayer LDS

The first time my toddler called out "the dog did that" in the middle of my prayer I froze. I did not know whether to ignore her, correct her, or somehow pretend it had not happened. I chose to shush her and the aftermath was worse than the interruption. She felt scolded and I felt like I had just told my child that her voice was not welcome when we were talking to God.

The next night I tried something completely different with that same interruption and it changed how I think about family prayer. When she interrupted again I just said it back to her. "Yes honey, the dog did do that. Heavenly Father, thank you for the dog and for how much she makes us laugh." I kept going. The interruption became part of the prayer instead of a disruption. And here is what surprised me. The toddler quieted down after that because she had been heard and she did not need to fight for attention anymore.

Neal A. Maxwell once wrote that we should not be surprised when our prayers are interrupted by the needs of others, because that is often the ministry the Lord has for us in that moment.

LDS Family Prayer for Children Who Cannot Sit Still

I want to name something that took me years to admit. I have a child who physically cannot sit still through a family prayer. It is not a behavior problem or a respect problem. It is a body that needs to move. And for a long time I treated it like a discipline issue instead of a design feature of the person God made.

The adjustments that helped us were simple and practical, nothing official or doctrinal. We let this child hold something small during the prayer, a stuffed animal or a soft ball. We moved from kneeling in a line to standing in a circle so the wiggling was less noticeable and the visual cue of everyone standing together still felt like a gathering. Sometimes we walked while we prayed, a slow loop through the kitchen and the living room while whoever was saying the prayer kept going. The child still struggles with stillness. But the child no longer associates family prayer with being told to stop moving, and I think that matters more than the posture.

Making Family Prayer Meaningful for Kids

I started doing something a few years ago that changed the feel of our prayers completely. Before the prayer itself I went around the circle and asked each person to say one thing they were grateful for. Just one word or one short phrase. The teenager says "baseball practice." The middle-schooler says "the new book from the library." The second-grader says "horses." The toddler says "dog" and then says "dog" again because she likes how we laugh.

It takes thirty seconds. But it shifts something. The children have already participated before the prayer starts. They have already turned their minds toward gratitude. And when we finally bow our heads the room is calmer because everyone has had a moment to speak.

I thought about the difference between this and how I used to approach family prayer. The Un-Perfect Family Council: Moving from Agenda to Connection article talks about moving from managing a meeting to connecting as a family, and I realized I needed to make the same shift with our prayers. Quitting the agenda and letting the connection lead.

I also stopped trying to make every prayer follow the same formula. A prayer in the car on the way to school is still a family prayer. A prayer said standing in the kitchen while we hold hands instead of kneeling is still a family prayer. Even a thirty-second prayer because the toddler is melting down is still a family prayer. The length and the posture and the location are not what makes it sacred. The turning toward God together is what makes it sacred.

Is It Okay If My Kids Interrupt Family Prayer

I cannot give you an official answer because I am not an authority on anything except this kitchen table. But I can tell you what I have learned from twelve years of kneeling on this floor with these four children. The interruptions are not the problem. The way we respond to them is what teaches our children about prayer. If I shush them they learn that prayer is about being quiet. If I welcome them they learn that prayer is about being together with God, even when the dog did something funny and they cannot hold it in.

I want my children to grow up believing that God is interested in what they have to say. That starts with me showing them that I am interested in what they have to say, even in the middle of a prayer.

Frequently Asked Questions

What should I do if my children constantly interrupt our family prayers?

Try folding the interruption into the prayer instead of treating it as a failure. Acknowledge what the child said and bring it back to the Lord. This shows your children that their real lives belong in their prayers and that God is interested in the things they care about.

Is a prayer still meaningful if it is not perfectly silent and reverent?

The answer to that question is a simple yes because the Lord looks on the heart and not the noise level. A prayer offered with sincerity in a room full of children is still a prayer offered with sincerity. The effort to gather and turn toward God together matters far more than the volume of the room.

How can we make family prayer a more positive experience for children who struggle with stillness?

Let them hold something small and quiet during the prayer. Try standing instead of kneeling. Let each person contribute one thing they are grateful for before the prayer starts. The goal is connection, not compliance.

I still have nights where I kneel down and the noise is so loud I can barely hear myself think. The toddler is gripping my knee and the dinosaur is on the floor and the smudge on the wall is still there. But I have stopped apologizing for any of it. The noise is part of us and the wiggling is part of us and the dinosaur projectiles and the dog stories and the knee grips are all part of us. We are turning toward God together every night, the way we actually are instead of the way I wish we were.

That has to count for something and I believe it does.

with love, Melissa