I’ve been listening to the reports all day. I’m really struggling and wrestling with today’s unimaginable tragedy. Two bright, young lives, aged 8 and 10, ended in an instant while they were doing nothing more than sitting in church to begin their school day. Their families were shattered. A community scarred and traumatized. And yet again, the same cycle begins, talk of programs, community initiatives, and gun control.

 And amid this heartache, I can’t help but ask: where were the eyes, the ears, the hearts that should’ve been there for this shooter?

Let me be clear: gun control is absolutely part of the problem. Access to firearms, especially in the hands of the unstable or the hateful, leads to tragedies like this. But let’s also be honest: if parents provided a strong family core at home and are present and deeply involved in their children’s lives, wouldn’t they notice if a young adult were sneaking firearms into the house? Wouldn’t they spot warning signs before despair or anger hardened into violence?

There are no foolproof solutions. There never will be. But some things aren’t being done that should be.

We invest a great deal in youth programs and community gatherings, and don’t get me wrong, those initiatives are vital. Our young people need connection, safe spaces, and creative opportunities. However, none of that-nothing, not even the most well-run programs-can replace true parental and family involvement.

 It is vital to discuss these programs and legislative matters, but let’s not allow those conversations to distract us from the real heart of the problem: providing our youth with a strong family core.

How is it that young hearts can sink into despair so deep, so quietly, that nobody notices? It’s not enough to exchange a quick “how was your day?” during the dinner rush or laugh through a board game on Friday night.  What’s needed are hard conversations, consistency, and a willingness to be unpopular with your own kids. Be nosy. Let them roll their eyes. Let them say, “You are so annoying. Leave me alone,” because the world is a harsh, relentless place, and there are so many invisible forces at war for their spirits. Sometimes it’s the things left unsaid that are the loudest concerns.

I also believe in mental-health check-ins. It doesn’t have to be rehearsed or verbose. It simply means paying attention, noticing subtle shifts in mood, appetite, energy, and who they’re talking to, as well as what remains unsaid.

 Notice changes. Learn the signs of withdrawal, rage, or despair. Voices are fighting for your child’s soul through social media, ideology, hatred, and hopelessness. The only defense strong enough to push back starts at home.

We need meaningful engagement. If we aren’t willing to dive into the tough conversations, to sit in the discomfort with them, then why did we choose to become parents?

If we create spaces that are warm, curious, and brave enough to face hard truths, spaces where they can share their fears, their confusions, and their shames, they may rediscover that they are not as alone as they feared. They might see a path forward worth taking.

If you’re blessed enough to raise children, then be there for them. Not halfway. Not when it’s convenient. Completely. Fully. Because while programs and policies are essential, nothing can replace the safety net of a family that is truly present.

This morning, two children lost their light. Let’s not wait for the next tragedy to remind us how crucial being present truly is.