Serenity in Our One
Raising a boy in faith as an only child—how does that look different from a multi-child household?
This morning at a moms brunch, my friend Shannon told me about her cousin, an only child, and called her the best, best friend. She had a full row of bridesmaids. I have not stopped thinking about it since.
A Harvard professor says there are only five things we can do with money. Four of them can bring real happiness. The one that usually does not last might surprise you.
Summer has a really good publicist. But I am writing this after dropping Greyson off at tennis camp, and I can say honestly that summer can be hard. Really hard. Especially for moms who stay home.
Greyson does not need to pray perfectly, sit still, or recite a verse without stumbling for his faith to be real. At four, devotion looks less like a routine and more like a hundred tiny, repeated invitations.
Raising one child means he gets all of us, every bedtime story, every question, every quiet moment. I used to wonder if that was enough. Four years in, I know it's more than enough.
Every well-meaning relative asked it. I asked it myself in the quiet moments. But the answer surprised me, and changed how I see the beauty of our small, intentional family.
Travel is not a luxury in our home. It is one of the most intentional things we do as a family. Here is what it has done for our son, our marriage, and our faith.
When there is no sibling to diffuse the tension, every hard moment fills the whole room. This is what grace-based discipline actually looks like in a one-child home.
When your child has more than enough, teaching gratitude becomes the most important work you do. Here is what that looks like at five years old and why it starts with us.
One of the unexpected gifts of raising an only child is watching him discover how to be content in his own company. He builds, imagines, and creates — and I think that inner richness will carry him his whole life.
In this interview, I'm sitting down with a dear, faithful friend who knows the only-child story from both sides. She grew up as an only child, and now she is raising one of her own. Her perspective is grace-filled and deeply rooted in faith — a beautiful reminder that family size does not determine the depth of love or the way God works through a home.
For as long as I can remember, I pictured having one child. This is the honest, imperfect story of why, and what God has taught me through five years of raising our one.
I sat down with one of my closest friends, an only child himself, now raising his own, for one of the most honest, tender conversations I have had about this life. What he shared about loneliness, identity, and unexpected gifts stopped me in my tracks.
A generation raised on self-optimization is quietly opting out of parenthood. As a Christian mother, I have thoughts, and they are not what you might expect.
Our Story
It's the question I've been asked more times than I can count. Here's my honest, faith-filled answer.
Because one was never ‘just’ one to me. One was the dream. One was the choice. One was the family life I always hoped for. And I am learning every day that one child can be enough, one family can be whole, and one path can still be full of purpose.
People assume a single child means a lonely child. What I've found is the opposite. He is deeply known, deeply seen, and deeply loved. Our attention isn't divided — it's poured into one extraordinary little person.
There's a stillness to a smaller family that I've come to treasure. Fewer distractions. More space for conversation, for questions, for sitting with scripture together. Our son has grown up knowing that faith isn't background noise — it's the whole song.
When you have one child, you can't coast. Every season, every milestone, every hard conversation gets your full presence. That pressure became a gift. It made me a more intentional mother, a more prayerful one, and a more grateful one.
"He is enough. He has always been enough. And every day, I am more sure of that than the day before."— A note from my journal, Year Three
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