Raising a Dreamer While Learning to Be Still
What my son’s wandering mind is teaching me about grace, attention, and the covering of Christ
by Jennifer Greene-Sullivan
Well, here lately, my writing opportunities have been slim to none. Between Liam’s baseball schedule and his struggles with school, I have been fighting to find even a small pocket of time to sit, reflect, and write. Today, about an hour before the bus pulled up to our tiny house office, I finally carved out a moment for both reflection and study. Even that hour felt like a gift.
For the last week, I shifted our approach at home. Instead of focusing on English, we leaned into math because his test grades have not reflected what I know he can do. His ELA ability seems stable—below average at best—but at least his struggles are consistent. Math, on the other hand, has been slipping, and that has required more of our attention.
So Thursday afternoon, I set everything up for a math review. Liam sat down with his scratch paper and worked for forty full minutes. On the outside, he looked like any other focused third grader, carefully reading, jotting notes, and checking his answers. When he finally hit submit, he did so with confidence.
And then he failed.
To his absolute dismay, my nine-year-old burst into tears and stormed out of the office, completely defeated. I gave him a few minutes to settle down before calling him back to try again. The second attempt brought improvement, but not enough to ease the disappointment he carried.
On the drive home, I kept wondering what had happened in those forty minutes. I knew what I had seen on the outside, but something clearly was not connecting on the inside. So I asked him, “Liam, what were you thinking about while you were taking that review?” I expected hesitation, but instead I got enthusiasm.
His whole demeanor shifted as he answered. “Mama, I was planning my crop rotation for my first year farming,” he said, his voice full of excitement. He went on to explain his plans for corn, cotton, and soybeans, and his uncertainty about peanuts because of the market. Then he asked about the cost of planting thirty-five acres of pine trees and whether it would be feasible in 2032 or 2033.
On any other day, I might have entertained every bit of that plan. I might have asked questions, offered thoughts, and stepped into his world of vision and possibility. But not this day. This day, I was frustrated, and my response reflected it.
“Liam Greene Sullivan, you are in third grade,” I said plainly. “You need to focus on mastering third grade standards, not planning for farming in 2032.” I reminded him that thinking about crop rotation during a math test does not help him find the right answers. He grew quiet for a moment before responding.
“Okay,” he said softly, “I’ll just talk to Daddy about the dry land and pine trees when he gets home.” I sighed, tightened my grip on the steering wheel, and tried to process the moment. Here was my ambitious, creative, business-minded child, and I was trying to figure out how to help him focus long enough to succeed in school. The gap between his interests and his responsibilities felt wide.
The truth is; this pattern is not new. Last year, I was redirecting him from planning D-Day strategies and studying war planes to second grade assignments. This year, it is farming and land management. His interests are vast, and his mind is bright, but school does not seem to capture his attention in the same way.
So I did what I have learned to do; I took my concerns to the Lord. Somewhere in the middle of my prayer, I sensed a gentle response that felt almost like laughter, not in mockery, but in recognition. It was as if the Lord was reminding me of something I already knew.
Because I was that way too.
My distractions may have looked different, but my attention has not always been steady. The Lord has drawn me back to Himself again and again, even when my focus wandered. It has only been in these last eleven years that I have learned to return consistently, to seek Him daily, and to remain in His presence.
Scripture reminds me that my standing with Him was never based on my ability to stay focused. “But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us… made us alive together with Christ… and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 2:4–6, ESV). My life in Him is the result of His grace, not my perfection.
Then, I think about Peter.
Peter followed Jesus with boldness, yet his focus faltered in critical moments. When fear overtook him, he denied Jesus three times, just as Jesus had foretold: “Before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times” (Matthew 26:34, ESV). In that moment, Peter’s actions did not reflect the devotion in his heart.
Yet, Jesus did not abandon him.
After the resurrection, Jesus went to Peter. On the shore, in a quiet and ordinary setting, He asked him, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” (John 21:15, ESV). He asked the question three times, not to condemn him, but to restore him. With each response, Jesus reaffirmed Peter’s calling, saying, “Feed my sheep.”
Jesus knew Peter’s heart, even when Peter struggled to remain steady, and He loved him anyway. As I sat with that truth, I began to see my situation differently. Liam is not simply distracted; he is wired for vision, for building, and for thinking beyond what is immediately in front of him. His mind is active, creative, and constantly reaching toward something bigger.
Maybe I am not raising a problem to fix. Maybe I am raising a child who will need guidance, patience, and direction as he learns to steward the way God has made him. Maybe the Lord is reminding me that just as He has patiently walked with me, I can learn to walk patiently with my son.
Because just like Peter, and just like me, Liam is still being formed, and God is not finished with him or me yet.
Reflection
As I sit with all of this, I am beginning to see that this season is inviting me into a quieter kind of parenting. It is not loud correction or constant redirection, but a steady presence that watches, listens, and learns where my child’s mind naturally goes. Just as Ruth gleaned slowly in the fields, gathering what had been provided one piece at a time, I am learning to pay attention to what is already there in Liam—his curiosity, his vision, and his drive. The quiet places are not empty. Quiet places are where understanding grows.
These quiet moments are where I begin to see that God is already at work in the details I am tempted to correct too quickly, and just as I have learned to return to the feet of Jesus again and again, I am being invited to guide Liam gently back to what is in front of him, without losing sight of who God is shaping him to become.
Challenge
This week, I want to challenge you to notice the quiet places in your own life.
Where are you tempted to rush in, to correct, or to fill the silence?
Instead, pause. Pay attention. Ask the Lord to show you what He is already doing beneath the surface. Whether it is in your own heart or in the life of someone you love, there may be something to glean—something small, something easily overlooked, but something meaningful.
Let the quiet become a place of discovery instead of frustration.
Prayer
Father, thank You for meeting us in the quiet places. Thank You that we do not have to strive to earn Your presence, but that You are already near, covering us with Your grace. Teach us to slow down, to notice, and to trust what You are doing in the lives You have entrusted to us. Give us patience where we feel frustration. Give us wisdom where we feel uncertain. Help us to guide without controlling and to love without fear. Just as You have been faithful to draw us back to You again and again, teach us to extend that same grace to others. Let us learn to sit at Your feet, to remain under Your covering, and to glean what You have already provided. We trust that You are not finished—with us or with them. In Jesus’ name, amen. 🤍
Scripture Reference List (ESV)
- Ephesians 2:4–6 — Made alive with Christ by grace, raised and seated with Him
- Matthew 26:34 — Jesus foretells Peter’s denial
- Luke 22:61–62 — Peter remembers and weeps after denying Jesus
- John 21:15–17 — Jesus restores Peter and calls him to “feed my sheep”
- Luke 10:39–42 — Mary sits at the feet of Jesus and chooses what is better
#AgingEnglishMajor #ChristianMotherhood #RaisingBoys #FaithfulParenting #GleaningSeason #QuietWithGod #UnderHisCovering #PresenceOverProductivity #KingdomPerspective #GraceForTheJourney #SittingAtHisFeet #JesusMeetsUsThere #HeIsNotFinished #FaithInTheEveryday #CalledToShepherd #TrustTheProcess
The Aging English Major 