We visited a new church because our oldest son was sharing about his experience at camp. When it came time for children’s church, I walked my three youngest kids to the children’s room. As we entered, the room fell silent. Every child turned to stare—and then point—at my son, Joel.
Joel was born with a craniofacial difference. He’s missing an ear and some bone structure. I know he looks different. But today still hurt.
As we stood there, every child kept staring. My heart ached as I saw Joel quietly retreat to the back of the room and hide his face in his arms—because how do you hide when you’re already in plain sight?
I wanted to speak. I wanted to step in and teach, like I’ve done in the past—to explain differences, to educate. But this time, I didn’t.
Instead, I walked to my son. His eyes were shiny with tears, his cheeks flushed red. I knelt down and asked softly, “Do you want to leave?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
He ran, and I followed.
During the service, he sat with me, quietly drawing “Joel loves Mom” on my palm. And I held him. I held his shame, his sadness, his heartbreak.
He deserves more. He deserves better than stares and whispers.
And while I usually step in to educate others, today, I couldn’t. Today, I needed to hold my child.
So I’m asking you—please, teach yours.
Teach your children that people come in all kinds of appearances. Show them pictures of faces that are different. Teach them not to stare, not to point. Help them understand that a child like Joel loves Minecraft, Dodge Ram trucks, digging in the dirt, and ketchup (but not broccoli). And more than anything, he wants to be seen for who he is—not what he looks like.
I’m not angry at those kids. I don’t think they were mean. I think no one ever taught them.
So tonight, I’m asking you: Take a moment.
Talk to your kids about differences—skin color, abilities, faces, hair, bodies, voices. Show them beauty in all forms. Teach them that kindness starts with understanding. That real beauty lives in the heart, not in the mirror.
Because my son—and so many others like him—deserve to walk into a room without hiding.
