This excerpt comes from The Flourishing Family by Dr. David and Amanda Erickson.

Whether by a stroke of luck or incessant prevention on our part, somehow David and I (Amanda) managed to make it through the toddler and preschool years without any coloring on the walls or furniture. Naturally, we thought we were in the clear, and for a few years crayons, markers, and pencils stayed neatly in their arts and crafts spot on the shelf, easily accessible to busy, creative, little hands.

That all changed when our youngest was in first grade. Yes, you read that correctly, and to be sure, we were as surprised as you may be. Because we’d kept all writing utensils out of reach when our children were small, we’d never had an actual conversation about keeping art on paper, not the walls. By the time Elijah was in first grade, it had completely escaped us that maybe we should have a chat about our expectations for artistic expression.

One night just before bedtime I was sitting on the boys’ bedroom floor talking with Elijah while he got into his pajamas. We were following our normal bedtime routine: lights low, soft voices, steady movement toward being ready to snuggle and read before lights out. As we talked, Elijah pointed at the bottom drawer of the boys’ dresser. “Mommy, look! It’s a smiley face!” he said with so much pride and excitement, watching me closely to see my reaction.

In a split second I felt the gentle nudging of the Holy Spirit in my heart. See, Elijah hadn’t drawn on the cheap plastic shelves in their closet or the easily replaceable furniture elsewhere in their room. No, he had etched a tiny smiley face on a sturdy, well-made chest of drawers that’s been in the family for generations. That was his chosen canvas.

If this had happened earlier in our parenting, I would almost surely have lost it. And if not lost it completely, I know I would have reacted very sternly by “laying down the law.” But this was many years into purposefully pursuing peace and gentleness with our children. I instinctively knew I had a choice in how I reacted, and the stakes were high: My response would reveal to my son which was more important, him or the family heirloom.

Reading that on paper in black and white, the “right choice” in this moment seems clear: Of course my child is more valuable than treasured furniture that had been passed down to me. And yet standing there in the heat of the moment looking at this well-loved antique that had just been damaged, it would have been easy to send an unintended message that the antique dresser was more important than my child. Recognizing his inherent worth and dignity helped me keep perspective so that I could respond with grace and kindness.

“I see that smiley face; it’s so small!” I squeaked, trying to control my tone. It was little; I probably wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t pointed it out. But it didn’t feel small. “Can you tell me about it?” I asked, genuinely curious. I could have said (and, truthfully, a part of me wanted to say), “What were you thinking? You know better than this!” But my desire to nurture his heart and treat him with respect changed everything.

“I drew it with a pencil the other day!” he said. That explained why it was slightly etched into the wood.

“You drew a smiley face on your drawer the other day,” I said, echoing his words. “And you seem pleased with it. You’re always very proud of your art.” (It should be said that Elijah really is a gifted artist, and he has every right to be proud of his ability.)

“Yes!” he said. He was still smiling with such satisfaction. I tried to put myself in his shoes: Carving is no small skill, and he truly used remarkable precision in etching that face.

I took a breath and gave him a soft smile. “Thank you for showing me your art, Elijah. Your art is so important to me. I’m surprised you drew on the drawer, though. I’m curious about that.”

He looked at me, confused. “Oh, that’s because I didn’t have any paper in here,” he said, as if he was stating the obvious. Of course. While not the most mature or informed decision, I had to admit that coming up with an alternative canvas was not entirely unreasonable.

“I see. You know what, your art is important to me; it’s why we have so many pictures hung up and saved. You decided it was time to draw, but you didn’t have any paper—that makes sense! I don’t think we can hang this up, though, because it’s not on paper. Hmmm!” I could tell that I had his attention and that he was following every word I said.

I shifted my tone from curious to slightly more serious, trying to shy away from being harsh or shaming. “You know, these drawers are special too. Did you know they belonged to my grandma and grandpa?” Elijah’s eyes got big, a new connection and understanding dawning. He shook his head and looked at his smiley face.

“Here’s the thing, bud,” I said, a hand on his shoulder. “You know your art is special to me. But these drawers are special to me too. And they were not meant to be special together. Where does your art belong?”
Elijah’s exuberant pride had turned to quiet introspection (or at least whatever a seven-year-old can muster late in the day when he’s less than an hour from being asleep). He looked at me and then at the drawer. “Paper,” he said quietly.

“You’re right. And now that I know you know this, that’s where I expect it to stay. If you want to practice carving or etching on wood, we can find a way for you to do that with wood that hasn’t been made into furniture. For now, we’re going to keep pencils on the art shelf, not in your room. And I’ll work on making sure there’s paper there, too, so that whenever you want to draw, you have everything you need.”

The whole conversation was only a couple of minutes, and in that time, David popped his head in twice to see what was going on. Bedtime rarely takes such a serious tone. But as he peeked around the door, I glanced at him and gave a gentle nod. This situation was under control, I was under control, and the opportunity for peaceful and purposeful correction wasn’t missed.

I can honestly say that my family heirloom is even more precious to me now. Not because I wanted a tiny smiley face in the bottom right corner of the bottom drawer, but because I was able to navigate that conflict with Elijah with peace and purpose, gentleness and grace. It’s now a beautiful reminder of how far we’ve come.

The Flourishing Family by Dr. David Erickson and Amanda Erickson

When it comes to Christian parenting, we crave confidence, wisdom, and―most of all―peace.

We pray for peace when our little ones are tossed about by waves of emotions, for connection and confidence when navigating stressful mornings and exhausting nights, and for wisdom in knowing how best to discipline our kids. As Christian parents, we’re desperate to “get it right,” to raise our children to be strong, courageous followers of Jesus―and yet, despite the overload of endless advice at our fingertips, we often feel completely and utterly lost.

You can become the parent Christ has called you to be―and change your home and family from the inside out. In The Flourishing Family, Dr. David and Amanda Erickson offer a new parenting perspective―one that cultivates peace, gentleness, and confidence. Deeply rooted in Scripture and backed by modern neuroscience as well as insight into child development, their book will equip you to

• rethink common assumptions about what the Bible says about parenting―and align your parenting approach with the teachings of Jesus and your identity in Him,
• cultivate the inner peace needed to lead and guide your family with Christ, and His grace, at the center,
• critically assess various gentle parenting principles through a Gospel lens so that you can respond to your child with understanding and patience, honoring the divine image and unique personality God created them to have, and
• use compassionate discipline as discipleship to focus on the heart behind your child’s actions, addressing the developmental or neurological roots of their behavior rather than merely correcting or punishing their actions or choices.

Your legacy is not defined by your parenting perfection but by your commitment to follow in the way of Jesus and to trust His Spirit to cultivate the seeds you’re diligently planting throughout your children’s lives. Trust that He will meet you in these pages―and that He will transform your hearts and home.