Reframing Resilience

I used to dislike the word 'resilience'.

It became such a buzzword across education, parenting, and mental health that it seemed to have completely veered off-track from its original meaning.

Lately, I’ve been digging deeper into what resilience really is and what it isn’t. I’ve learned it’s not just a buzzword. It’s an ongoing process, and something we can truly hope to build in the next generation. But there are two voices that tend to surface in parents that actually miss the mark toward the goal of raising resilient kids.

The first voice says, “Toughen up.”

This voice worries our kids will turn out entitled. It fears comfort might make them soft. Some parents have even begun to manufacture hardship. I’ve personally known multiple families who have enrolled their young children in military-style camps in the hope to build grit and gratitude.

The second voice says, “I’ll handle it.”

This voice doesn’t want to see our children struggle. It says, “just step in, remove obstacles, and prevent hardship.” This voice lends to the mindset that we just want our children to be happy. Struggle can wait until adulthood. A bad grade, a friendship hurt, a forgotten lunch – the “I’ll handle it” parent comes to the rescue and fixes their problems.

Both voices come from a place of love, but neither builds the resilience we’re hoping for.

So how do we land in the space between these voices? How do we actually nurture resilience? Consider these shifts:

1. Stop Outsourcing the Tough Stuff

Time and time again I’ve seen that parent-child connection is sacrificed for convenience and classes. Rather than strong leaders, we’ve become great managers of time and efficiency – optimizing our households and the people in them. We prefer comfort and convenience over challenge and as a result, outsource much of the learning process – the tough stuff.

When I was growing up, learning to ride a bicycle meant doing it the hard way. We took off the training wheels and my dad would run alongside me, sometimes stabilizing the bike from behind. It took a number of falls, multiple scraped knees, and a good dose of frustration (from both myself and my father) but I eventually figured it out.

Now there’s a class for everything. Cycling, reading, swimming, math – we sign them up with the least amount of effort for parents, and minimal scraped knees. I'm not against classes—not at all! But I wonder, in our effort to build resilience, maybe we need to show a little resilience ourselves - within their frame of what’s considered ‘hard’.

2. Resilience Is Not Something to Gain, But Something to Grow

We live in an age where we look for quick fixes and accelerated learning paths, but the continual development of resilience takes time and intentionality. We don't magically create it by simply increasing adversity or taking it away.

When we lean into the “toughen up” voice and push kids into struggle without support, we risk building walls instead of grit. When we lean into the “I’ll handle it” voice in an effort to protect our kids, we risk dependency.

The American Psychological Association (APA), defines 'resilience' as, "The process and outcome of successfully adapting to difficult or challenging life experiences”

Resilience is both process and outcome. It is a response rather than a prize to be won. If we want to intentionally nurture resilience in our kids, start by focusing here:

1. Relationship

2. Reality

Relationship says, “You are not alone.” Reality is seeing life for what it is – it can be hard! And one person’s reality of what is hard can be drastically different for another. We might see our kids’ problems as trivial or easy to fix, but standpoint doesn’t help them. Reality says, “This is hard for you. I get it. We can get through it together.”

Here’s the amazing truth: we are not alone in our hardship either.

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

-Isaiah 41:10

We are not alone and neither are our children. So the next time you hear those voices, “toughen up” or “I’ll handle it,” pause and put yourself in their shoes. Ask yourself, “How are they experiencing this?” and “How can I walk with them through it?”

Reach further: What could you do to prioritize connection over convenience with your child this week?

Growing Pains

Recently we celebrated a birthday - and also a decade of parenting. As I reflect on the past ten years of motherhood, I can’t help but feel grateful. Becoming a parent, regardless of how a child comes into your care, is one of the most life-changing events imaginable. It brings new heights of joy and new depths of pain. Yet the pains of parenting don’t have to be only sleepless nights, worry, or frustration - they can also be growing pains, if you let them.

Becoming a mother expanded my heart in a way I didn’t think possible. I didn’t know a love so big and so full existed, and I can’t help but think that this is still just a tiny glimpse of the greatness of God’s love for us. He calls us His children. He is love in its purest form. It is my great privilege and calling to love like He does.

Motherhood has also brought me face-to-face with an ugliness I never fully realized or admitted was in me. Bitter roots from my past, a desire to control the present, and anxiety for the future have surfaced in surprising and terrifying ways in my role as a mother. At one point, I truly believed these things couldn’t be changed - that the ugliness inside was simply who I am, beyond my control. Negative thoughts would bubble up: “I’m not a good mom,” “My kids are impossible,” or “I’ve ruined them; it’s my fault.” Those were lies. If you hear them too, recognize them for what they are - lies.

Here’s the truth: perfection is impossible this side of heaven. Yet just as our kids make mistakes and grow from them, we can too - and what a powerful model that is for them. When I let go of those lies and began to see each challenge, each pain, each mistake as an opportunity for refinement - or an opportunity to show love in spite of it - I started to see real change.

I am still a work in progress and will be for the rest of my life. But I am held by a love that is patient, kind, and persevering - a love that calls me forward, not in shame, but in grace and hope.

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

The Confidence We're Really Looking For

Who doesn’t want a confident child? It’s a quality we cheer for, a trait we believe paves the way for success and happiness. But what is confidence, really?

As a third-generation Chinese American, I’ve lived at the intersection of two cultures that view this concept differently. In the U.S., confidence is a celebrated virtue, a ‘believe in yourself’ boost that can propel you forward. In Chinese heritage, however, the concept of confidence holds tension and can tip toward arrogance if presented as loud or unearned.

When I asked my mom about my childhood, she described, from an American point of view, that I was a confident, outgoing girl who made friends easily. But my own memory tells a different story. For as long as I can remember, I was a people-pleaser. I wanted to be liked—who doesn't? I was often perceived as grounded: mature and self-assured, but inside, I was a pendulum constantly swinging between two extremes.

On one side was a feeling of strength, almost invincibility—a brash belief that I could do anything I set my mind to. But isn't that just pride in disguise? On the other side was a shaky foundation of self-doubt, where I sought approval and validation from others. That doesn’t sound like true confidence, either.

I’ve come to believe we often misunderstand confidence. It isn’t about how we appear to others, but what’s going on deep inside. We don't want our kids to have a surface-level confidence that shatters at the first sign of failure or criticism. We want them to have a deep, unwavering confidence that is both strong and humble.

So, how do we get there?

To start, let’s redefine what we’re really looking for. What if true confidence isn't self-confidence at all?

When we root our confidence solely in our own abilities, wit, or past successes, we commit ourselves to that unfulfilling pendulum swing. Our sense of worth becomes dependent on our latest achievement or the changing approval of others. Inevitably, this ties our identity to an unstable cycle, leaving us to swing between the fleeting high of pride and the downward pull of insecurity.

The ancient wisdom of the Bible offers a radical alternative. The apostle Paul writes:

“Such confidence we have through Christ before God. Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competence comes from God.”

- 2 Corinthians 3:4-5

True confidence is not self-confidence, but God-confidence.

It’s the profound assurance that our competence, worth, and identity are gifts from a faithful and loving God. Rooted here, in Christ, we find the freedom to be both courageous and content, bold and humble. We can step forward without the crushing pressure to prove ourselves, because we are already secure in Him.

This is the unshakable foundation we must build in our own lives, and then model for our children. The best way to build true confidence in them is to demonstrate a confidence rooted in something far greater than ourselves. Let your confidence be in the One who will never fail, Jesus. This is the confidence we're all looking for, the confidence we’re made for.