Parenting, Prayers, and a Stubborn Wall Screw

There are so many moments as parents where we try to intentionally teach our kids. We remind them to say “please” and “thank you.” We teach them how to share. We model kindness, apologize when we mess up, remind them to tell the truth, and pray with them before bed. We look for those big “teachable moments” and hope that somehow all the lessons we are trying to plant will take root deep in their hearts.

But lately, I’ve realized that some of the most meaningful things our children learn from us happen in the quiet moments we never planned.

Not during a family devotion.
Not during a carefully thought-out conversation.
Not even during one of those sweet parenting wins we wish we could freeze in time.

Sometimes it happens while standing in your bedroom, frustrated at a stripped screw stuck in a wall.

A few weeks ago, I had one of those lingering house projects hanging over my head. Literally. There was a bracket attached to the wall in our bedroom, held there by one stubborn, stripped screw that refused to come out. I had tried multiple times over the course of two weeks to remove it, and every attempt ended the same way: frustration, sore hands, and the screw still firmly planted in the stud like it had signed a lifelong lease agreement with my wall.

Every day I walked by it.
Every day it annoyed me.

You know those small unfinished projects that somehow begin to mock you every time you see them? This was one of those.

Finally, I decided enough was enough. I grabbed every tool I could think of and determined that screw was coming out that day. I tried different drill bits, pliers, rubber bands, all the internet “hacks” that promise to solve your problems in under thirty seconds. None of them worked.

And with every failed attempt, my frustration level climbed higher.

I could feel myself getting closer and closer to saying some not-so-holy words directly at the wall. I was tired, irritated, and honestly just over it. Meanwhile, my daughter Penny was nearby, quietly watching me the whole time.

I barely noticed her at first.

Then, in the middle of my internal battle against this ridiculous screw, I heard the softest little voice beside me.

Dear God, please help Mom get the screw out of the wall. Please help her not be frustrated with the wall. Please help us figure this out. Amen.

I almost started laughing and crying at the same time.

It was so sweet. So pure. So sincere.
And honestly? So funny.

Of all the things she could have prayed for, she specifically asked God to help me not be frustrated with the wall. Apparently my facial expressions had been communicating quite a bit.

But in that moment, everything shifted.

My irritation softened instantly. Not because the screw magically came out right then, but because I realized my little girl wasn’t just watching how I handled church, Bible studies, or bedtime prayers. She was watching how I handled frustration. She was listening to the way I spoke in hard moments. She was learning what it looked like to bring everyday situations to God.

Even silly ones involving home repairs.

After about ten more minutes of using every ounce of muscle in my arms and hands, the screw finally gave way. Victory never felt so dramatic. I held that tiny piece of metal like I had just conquered Mount Everest.

But the real moment I kept thinking about happened the next day.

Penny and I were driving together when I thanked her for praying over me while I worked on the wall. I told her how much it meant to me.

She looked at me and asked, “Were you thankful because it helped get the screw out?”

And I said, “No, sweet girl. I was thankful because praying over someone is one of the most loving things we can do.”

That moment stayed with me long after the conversation ended.

Because the truth is, prayer is never small.

When we pray over someone, we are choosing to pause and invite God into someone else’s burden, frustration, pain, or need. We are loving people through obedience. We are carrying one another before the Lord.

James 5:16 says, “Therefore confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.”

What Penny did in that bedroom may have seemed tiny to the world, but heaven sees prayer differently than we do.

And it made me realize something else too:
Our children are learning from us constantly, especially in the moments we aren’t intentionally teaching.

They are observing the things we don’t even think they notice.

They hear the prayers whispered in the car when we pass an accident on the side of the road.

They watch us gather with our small group and pray over one another in hard seasons.

They notice when we speak gratitude out loud to the Lord after answered prayers.

They hear us cry out to God in exhaustion, stress, joy, uncertainty, or celebration.

They are learning what dependence on God looks like in real time.

Deuteronomy 6:6-7 says:
“These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.”

Not just in the big moments.
Not just in the polished moments.

In the everyday moments.

And maybe that’s what has been sitting so heavily and sweetly on my heart since the great screw-removal saga of 2026.

Penny wasn’t learning from a Bible lesson that day.
She wasn’t sitting in Sunday school coloring a picture of Jesus.
She was standing in a bedroom watching her mom struggle with frustration and instinctively choosing prayer.

What a reminder that our children are not simply hearing what we say about faith.
They are absorbing how we live it.

And the truth is, that realization can feel both beautiful and humbling.

Because if I’m honest, there are plenty of days where I wish my children only noticed my “best parenting moments.” The intentional ones. The patient ones. The spiritually mature ones.

But they also see the messy moments.
The tired moments.
The moments where I’m stretched thin and running low on grace.

Yet somehow, God still works through imperfect parents.

He uses our everyday faithfulness.
Our whispered prayers.
Our apologies when we get it wrong.
Our willingness to invite Him into ordinary life.

That day reminded me that creating a Christ-centered home often looks far less polished than we imagine.

Sometimes it looks like family devotionals and meaningful conversations.
And sometimes it looks like a little girl praying over her irritated mother and a stubborn screw stuck in drywall.

Honestly, I think Jesus delights in both.

Because throughout Scripture, we see a God who constantly meets people in ordinary places.

Moses at a burning bush.
David tending sheep.
Fishermen casting nets.
Women drawing water.
Children sitting near Jesus while adults tried to shoo them away.

God has always loved using everyday moments to reveal His presence.

And maybe the holiest moments in our homes are not always the planned ones.

Maybe they happen in kitchens while packing lunches.
In cars during school pickup.
At bedtime after hard days.
Or standing in a bedroom beside a wall that has tested every ounce of your patience.

I keep thinking about how naturally prayer came to Penny in that moment.

Not performative.
Not rehearsed.
Just sincere faith.

And I wonder how many times she has quietly been watching.
Quietly learning.
Quietly storing away what faith looks like in real life.

Maybe that’s the encouragement some of us need today.

Your everyday faithfulness matters.

The prayers your children overhear matter.
The way you speak about others matters.
The way you handle stress matters.
The way you worship through exhaustion matters.

Even when you think they aren’t paying attention — they are.

And by God’s grace, they are learning not just from our victories, but from our dependence on Him in the middle of ordinary life.

So here’s to the moms and dads trying their best to raise children who love Jesus.

Here’s to the parents who wonder if anything they’re doing is sticking.

Here’s to the bedtime prayers, the car conversations, the church mornings, the apologies, the grace-filled do-overs, and yes…even the frustrating home repair projects.

Because sometimes discipleship happens in the most unexpected places.

Sometimes it happens beside a bedroom wall.

And sometimes, through the sweet voice of a child praying over you, God gently reminds you that He is working in your children’s hearts even when you least expect it.