After Jesus died, he appeared at least eight times to those who loved him: to Mary Magdalene at the tomb, to the apostles in the locked room, to Thomas in his doubts, to the women walking back from the sepulcher, and to the two travelers on the Road to Emmaus.
As a parent, I find myself constantly on that road. I know what it’s like to head in the opposite direction of where I once felt sure. I know what it’s like to feel as if I’m walking away or that I’ve lost track of where hope was supposed to live. And that’s when Jesus shows up.
Most of the time, I don’t recognize Jesus right away. I vent, I worry, I feel the weight of trying to be everywhere for everyone. But there Jesus is—walking beside me, listening, asking questions. He doesn’t rush to correct me or offer an instant fix. Instead, he walks with me in the ache, the confusion, and the long in-between.
I imagine the two, Cleopas and a companion that many believe to be his wife, Mary, walking along, processing their grief in solitude and silence and sometimes in big bursts. They are worn thin by the horrifying crucifixion but also by the exhaustion of life—of holding things together, of parenting perhaps, or even of loving in a broken world.
It’s often in the most ordinary of moments—around a table, in a conversation, through a memory—that my eyes are opened. Like those travelers on the road to Emmaus, I realize: Jesus has been here the whole time.
And in that realization, hope rises again.
A couple of nights ago, I found myself overwhelmed. I was texting with both of my daughters—one was celebrating a hard loss and another joy-filled moment. The other was navigating a difficult season, full of uncertainty and emotional weight. I sat there, phone in hand, heart torn in two. I wanted to be with both of them at the same time, to wrap my arms around them, to be present in both joy and sorrow.
But I couldn’t.
And that’s when I whispered, “Jesus, this is too much. I can’t do this.”
In that very moment, memories started to flood my mind—not just the big miracles or obvious answers to prayer, but the quiet faithfulness of God over the years. I saw the hand of God in the midst of infertility struggles, through Hurricane Katrina’s chaos, in battles with sickness, the painful bullying years, and mental health challenges.
But also in the laughter of childhood, in baby giggles and bedtime stories, in middle school plays, and messy beach days. In every one of those moments, joyful or painful, God was there.
God is there.
Parenting can feel like walking through a fog some days. Some days it’s celebration and progress; other days it’s heartbreak and longing. But through it all, the presence of Jesus remains—constant, faithful, near.
Not only did Jesus appear to those early disciples, but he left us the gift of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the breath of hope on long days, trying days, and yes, even the joyful ones. It’s that deep knowing inside of us that whispers, “You are not alone. God is with you, parent.”
Pope Francis reminds us:
“There is a close link between the hope of a people and harmony between the generations. The joy of children makes their parents’ hearts leap and opens up the future. Children are the joy of the family and of society…Indeed, to be a son or a daughter according to God’s plan, means carrying in oneself the memory and hope of a love that has become tangible by kindling the life of another human being, original and new. And for parents, each child is him- or herself, different, unique.”
- General audience, St. Peter’s Square, Feb. 12, 2015
Jesus is in the kitchen at dinnertime, in the car rides to school, in the silent prayers over a sleeping child, in the texts sent at midnight, in the tears cried when no one sees. God is in the waves with you—encouraging, crying, loving, laughing, helping. We don’t have to carry it all ourselves, and we aren’t meant to.
Sometimes we just need to stop, to widen the moment, to take a breath—and see that the whole Trinity is right here with us: Father, Son, Holy Spirit, dancing with us in the mess and the magic of it all.
There is lived hope for you, parent. Right here, right now. You are not alone. You never have been. Keep walking—there is hope on this road.
Going Deeper:
We invite you to reflect and pray with the following Prayer Prompts for Parents:
- “Jesus, walk with me.”
Prompt: Invite Jesus into your day. Ask him to help you recognize his presence in your parenting journey, even when it’s hard to see him.
“And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.” Matthew 28:20
- “Holy Spirit, breathe hope into my weary places.”
Prompt: Where are you tired? Overwhelmed? Breathe deeply and ask the Spirit to renew you. Picture hope as breath—steady and life-giving.
“He gives power to the faint, abundant strength to the weak… They that hope in the Lord will renew their strength, they will soar on eagles’ wings; They will run and not grow weary, walk and not grow faint.” Isaiah 40:29-31
- “Father, help me remember Your faithfulness.”
Prompt: Recall a time when God showed up for your family. Journal it, pray through it, and let it remind you of God’s ongoing presence.
“I will recall the deeds of the Lord; yes, recall your wonders of old.” Psalm 77:12
- “God, help me see You in the ordinary.”
Prompt: Look for Jesus today in the simple things—a conversation, a meal, a hug, a laugh. Let those moments become sacred space.
“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts! All the earth is filled with his glory!” Isaiah 6:3
- “Lord, be with my children.”
Prompt: Whether your children are near or far, pray this simple prayer over them. Trust that God is parenting alongside you and loving them even more deeply than you can.
“The Lord bless you and keep you! The Lord let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you! The Lord look upon you kindly and give you peace!” Numbers 6:24–26
Photo by: Michael Coltman on Unsplash
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Stephanie Cloutre Davis
Stephanie Clouatre Davis graduated from Loyola University New Orleans. Stephanie speaks to adults and teens around the nation at parishes, high schools, and dioceses in various venues including retreats and conferences. With humor, joy, and stories, Stephanie not only fully engages her audiences but also inspires them to challenge themselves and build a stronger relationship with God. She lives in Covington, Louisiana with her husband Michael and two girls Emma and Abby.
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