Raising Light

Lately, I’ve been seeing faith in a new way, through my daughter.

I’ve been a mom to my boys for many years, and motherhood has already taught me so much about strength, patience, and love. But there is something about my daughter that has pushed me to grow even more spiritually. Maybe it’s the questions she asks, the honest, curious ones that make you pause and really think. Or maybe it’s the steps I hope and pray she takes in the future. Whatever it is, she has drawn me closer to Hashem in a way I didn’t expect.

Children don’t complicate their relationship with Hashem. They don’t question timing or outcomes the way adults do. They speak. They ask. They trust.

Every day, I hear my daughter pray. Not long prayers, but short ones, because she’s four, she simply says what’s on her mind, and that’s how she prays, with honesty and with certainty. She adds tzedakah to her prayer, the way a grown woman lights Shabbat candles, with intention, faith, and love. For weeks now, if not longer, she has been praying for the very same thing, without change. She prays as if Hashem is right there listening because to her, He is, and because He truly is listening to all of us.

Watching her has changed something in me.

When she speaks, sometimes even her energy feels like light. And now I understand when people say, “I am the light.” I see the light in others, their energy, their positivity, their emunah, the bright sparks they carry, and the way their soul sits.

There is hope in her words. Hope in the way she speaks to Hashem like a constant presence, not someone distant or unreachable. She reminds me that faith isn’t about having all the answers, it’s about knowing you’re never alone while waiting for them.

Through her innocence, I’ve been reminded that Hashem has always been near. It’s we who sometimes drift, distracted by life, pain, or fear. Children, in their purity, pull us back to that closeness. They remind us how natural faith once felt.

I am so proud of my little girl for praying for what she believes in, no matter how long it takes. For holding onto hope with patience and Bitachon. When I listen to her pray, I feel reassured. I feel Emunah. I feel that something bigger is unfolding, even if I can’t yet see it. Her belief carries hope not just for herself, but for all of us.

Sometimes, faith doesn’t return to us through answers or signs.
Sometimes, it returns through the voice of a child, reminding us that Hashem has been listening all along, because we too are Hashem's children.

                                   Emunah!