What Makes My Kids Cry Today

By Lizzie @ What Makes My Kid Cry Today

Real Life. Real Laughs. Real Jesus.

Somewhere between the 14th mismatched sock and the suspiciously sticky shirt, I realized something strange:

I wasn’t annoyed.

I wasn’t resenting the pile of tiny pants or sighing over the never-ending waves of laundry that flow through this house like some sort of fabric tsunami.

Instead… I was praying.

I was folding slowly.

Breathing deeply.

Whispering thank you.

💡 It Hit Me: This Is Worship.

Not with a guitar.

Not with a pretty devotional.

Not even with a quiet room (because let’s be honest—I haven’t seen one of those since 2012).

But here, in the ordinary, God showed up.

🧺 Folding the Tiny Socks

I prayed for the feet that will run and play and walk in His ways. I thanked God for the child who owns those socks—even the one who lost their mind earlier over the wrong spoon.

👕 Folding the T-shirts

I prayed for the heart that wears it. I asked God to clothe them in kindness, humility, and strength.

🧦 Folding My Own Stretched-Out Pajama Pants

I prayed for my tired soul. I thanked God for the gift of being needed—even when it feels like too much.

📖 Worship Isn’t Just for Sunday

“And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus…”

— Colossians 3:17

That means laundry.

That means leftovers.

That means bedtime routines and grocery pickups and every single sock.

Worship isn’t about the setting—it’s about the heart.

And when our hands are busy but our hearts are pointed toward Him, He meets us there.

🙏 A Prayer for Laundry Worship

Lord,

Thank You for the holy hidden moments.

Help me find You in the ordinary.

Remind me that service can be sacred.

And let folding laundry become worship—because I’m doing it with You in mind.

Amen.

🌿 Dear Mama Folding the 47th Shirt…

God sees you.

He’s not waiting for a spotless house or a 30-minute quiet time.

He’s right there—between the crumpled pants and the wrinkled patience.

So take a breath.

Match the socks.

And let worship rise from the laundry pile.

Because yes, even this… counts as holy.