The Silent Struggle "Can these bones live?" – Ezekiel 37:3

There’s a silent struggle happening in many homes today—beneath the surface of soccer practices, dinner prep, and endless to-do lists. It’s not just about being busy. It’s deeper than burnout. It’s a spiritual ache—an unspoken longing for something more.

Parenting in today’s world can feel like a race we’re always losing. We juggle schedules, soothe tears, and keep up appearances. But inside, many of us are running on empty—feeling emotionally stretched and spiritually far from God. Faith, once woven into the rhythms of daily life, now feels like a fading photograph—once vivid, now blurred by noise, performance, and pressure.

But what if that ache we carry isn’t a weakness? What if it’s holy?

The prophet Ezekiel once stood in a valley of dry bones and heard God ask, “Can these bones live?” It’s the same question echoing through our weary hearts today. And the answer isn’t found in doing more—but in rediscovering presence. Not performance, but grace. Not perfection, but surrender.

We live in a culture that praises independence, busyness, and constant output. And slowly, without even noticing, families have become overcommitted but unanchored. As Gabor Maté writes, much of what we call “normal” today is actually “profoundly abnormal… unhealthy… even on a spiritual level.” We’re tired—not just in body, but in soul.

We want to pass on faith to our kids. But how do we do that when we ourselves feel dry? How do we model trust in God when we’re barely holding on? The truth is—we don’t need to have it all together. Because God isn’t waiting at the finish line. He’s already in the valley. In the chaos. In the carpool line, the bedtime routine, the quiet cry for help.

And here’s the good news: the Spirit still breathes.

God is still near. And even the driest bones—yes, even ours—can live again.

This isn’t about adding one more thing to your schedule. It’s about letting the ache lead you home. Letting it become an altar. Letting it point you back to the God who never left.

So pause. Breathe. Listen.Because that ache?It’s not the end of the story. It’s the beginning of renewal.