A Preteen Poet: Finding Confidence, Hope, and Jesus in My Story

“This is my brother, Peter, and today… he’s 6 years old.

My mother made his birthday cake, I made his crown of gold.

The cake was crowned with strawberries — strawberries and cream…

Peter’s crown was purest gold, just see it glow and gleam.

But strawberries are full of juice, and cream is smooth and sweet…

I think that Peter would rather have the crown that’s good to eat.”

Applause… applause.

Can’t you just see six-year-old Peter with a slightly crooked paper crown, wearing that boy-in-

heaven expression as he devoured his birthday cake?

That wasn’t actually my brother at all — it was the poem I recited as a 5th grader in our

school poetry competition.

But I still remember acting it out, imagining the scene as I spoke each line.

Yep — finally, a story about me as a preteen!

I was in 5th grade, standing in the finals of our elementary school poetry contest.
They streamed it into every classroom, so the entire school watched.

For some kids, that kind of spotlight would be welcomed.

But not this girl.

I tolerated it, pretended my way through it, and poured every ounce of energy I had into performing.
And afterwards, I always felt exhausted — like I had run a race.
The emotional toll was real then, and honestly, I still feel it today.

But I learned something from that moment.

Some childhood memories blur with time — but others imprint themselves on our hearts forever.

This one did.

What moments from your childhood or preteen years stand out to you?

Are they hazy?

Painful?

Hope-filled?

Cherished?

A mixture of all the above?

I often reflect on how my own memories, moments, and growing seasons have shaped who I am today. And those reflections always lead me to ask my present-day parent-self: “How am I shaping solid, Christ-centered memories and moments for my kids?”

I may not be able to replicate the best parts of my childhood…

I may not be able to erase the hard moments — the ones I carried far too long, like a backpack

stuffed with rocks…

But I can point my children to hope.

Hope is talked about often in Scripture, but sometimes it feels hard to define.

Put simply:

Hope is Jesus.

Romans 15:13 says, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

When I don’t feel confident in front of people, I lean on the God of hope — the One who fills me

with joy and peace because I trust in Him.

When I don’t feel confident as a parent (because none of us have ever parented until the day God

made us parents), I invite the hope of Jesus into my relationship with my kids. I want His hope to

overflow from my life into theirs — so they see the grace of God in me, even on the days I fail.

When I don’t feel confident in who I am, and I wonder how I can parent well when I can barely

model Christ-confidence for myself…

I say: “Lord, by the power of the Holy Spirit in me, I have hope.”

Living with hope is hard only because I try to control everything.

It’s natural to want to protect my kids from harm.

It’s tempting to hide my struggles, weaknesses, or sin from them — but that doesn’t help them

receive the hope God has for their own stories.

If it were comfortable, everyone would do it.

If it were easy, we wouldn’t grow from it.

And if we could do it ourselves…

We wouldn’t need Jesus.

So think about what you can share with your preteen — both the celebrations and the struggles

— and how God shaped you through it.

And then spend intentional time helping shape their world to reflect more of Christ.