A gentle Christian parenting guide for ages 9–13
December is loud.
Even when we love it, we can feel it.
The hurry. The noise. The “just keep up” energy.
There are lights everywhere and calendars packed with little squares that seem to multiply overnight. The world is asking our children to sprint toward Christmas morning as if the whole season is a countdown to consumption. And in that rush, something fragile can get flattened:
wonder.
Not the kind of wonder that’s just sugar and sparkle, but the deeper kind—the kind that makes room for God. The kind that lets a child feel the difference between a holiday and a holy day. The kind that teaches a young heart how to recognize light in darkness and hope in waiting.
As a Christian author who writes for preteens, I’m convinced of this:
one of the greatest gifts we can give children in December is slowness.
Not laziness. Not boredom.
But the deliberate, loving decision to create what I call the holy pause—the small, quiet spaces in the season where a child can breathe, notice, reflect, and receive.
Because when we slow down, we don’t just reduce stress.
We cultivate character.
We shape moral imagination.
We prepare a child to meet Jesus, not just unwrap presents.
Why slowness is a Christian practice
We sometimes think of faith as something we believe and obey—and it is. But faith is also something we practice with our pace.
The story of Christmas begins in a kind of sacred slowness:
- centuries of longing
- generations of promises
- quiet prophecies
- humble faithfulness
- a world that hardly noticed the moment God arrived
The Incarnation wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t marketed. It wasn’t presented with a drumline.
It came like light at dawn.
This is one purpose of Advent: to teach the heart how to wait with hope. To remind us that God does some of His most beautiful work in the space between desire and fulfillment.
Children need that lesson more than ever. Many of our kids live in a world of instant everything—instant entertainment, instant answers, instant dopamine. The ability to wait well is not a minor life skill. It is spiritual formation.
A child who learns to wait without panicking is a child who will one day trust God during longer waits.
That is not a small thing.
The preteen window: why ages 9–13 are especially sensitive to pace
Preteens are at a crossroads. They are old enough to grasp meaning, but young enough to still be shaped by rituals and family tone.
This is the age when:
- identity starts hardening into patterns
- peer pressure becomes louder
- sensitivity to comparison increases
- the desire to “keep up” intensifies
In other words, this is the age when the world’s tempo starts trying to claim them.
Slowness becomes countercultural here—not because we’re trying to be quirky, but because we’re trying to protect something sacred:
their inner world.
If we want to raise young readers who value truth over hype, character over clout, and purpose over popularity, then pace is part of the curriculum.
The holy pause: what it is (and what it isn’t)
The holy pause is simple.
It is a small, intentional slowing down that says:
“We are not rushing past Jesus.”
It isn’t about banning fun or turning your home into a monastery for three weeks. It’s about creating spaces of quiet meaning inside a joyful season.
Think of it like a candle in a windy room.
The room can stay lively.
But the flame needs protection.
Why slowness protects wonder
Wonder is delicate.
It grows in quiet places.
It withers in constant noise.
And kids fundamentally know this. That’s why, even in a technology-saturated world, some of the deepest childhood memories are still slow ones:
- hot chocolate in silence
- a parent reading aloud
- snow falling outside a window
- a small prayer before bed
- a tradition repeated the same gentle way each year
These are not flashy moments.
They are formative ones.
If Christmas becomes nothing but noise, we risk teaching children that meaning is always loud. But the gospel keeps reminding us that God often works the other way around.
Slowness and storytelling: why reading is an Advent tool
This is where Christian fantasy and faith-based storytelling quietly shine.
A good story teaches waiting.
It teaches restraint.
It teaches loyalty.
It teaches the long obedience of courage.
A child cannot race through a truly meaningful story without losing something.
Stories ask us to dwell.
That is why reading with your child—especially in December—can be a spiritual practice. Few things cultivate the holy pause like:
- a blanket
- a lamp
- a chapter
- and a shared silence between paragraphs
In a season when everything says “faster,” reading says:
“Let’s stay here a minute.”
This is not just literacy.
It is discipleship in a softer key.
The danger of a rushed Christmas
A rushed December often produces:
- irritability
- entitlement
- shallow joy
- stronger cravings for more stimulation
- weaker tolerance for quiet
And the deeper risk is this:
children begin to associate Christmas with getting more than receiving.
There is a difference.
Getting is grabby.
Receiving is grateful.
One posture consumes.
The other worships.
Slowness helps children move from one to the other.
A simple shift: from countdown to canopy
Most families treat December like a countdown.
A straight line toward a single morning.
But a healthier image for kids is a canopy—a season that shelters us, shapes us, and invites us to live gently under its meaning.
When Christmas becomes a canopy, children stop asking only:
“What am I getting?”
And start noticing:
“How do we live in the light?”
That is a tremendous shift for a preteen heart.
How to build the holy pause at home (without overhauling your life)
You don’t need a massive plan.
You need a few repeatable practices that are small enough to actually survive real life.
Here are several ways to create slowness that feels natural, not forced.
1) The Five-Minute Candle
Pick any time of day—after dinner, before bed, while waiting for cookies.
Light a candle.
Read one sentence of Scripture.
Then ask one question:
“Where did we see light today?”
It can be simple:
- a kind moment at school
- a quiet apology
- a small answered prayer
- a laugh that healed tension
Blow the candle out.
That’s it.
Children remember this more than people realize, because the combination of fire + silence + a single question becomes a sensory anchor.
2) One slow evening a week
Choose one evening each week where you reduce the pace on purpose.
Not to be strict—just to make room.
Maybe that night includes:
- “no rush dinner”
- a short family read-aloud
- a walk
- a dessert with no screens
- a small act of giving
This is a way of saying,
“We don’t belong to the season’s chaos. We belong to Christ.”
3) The “two gifts + one story” practice
If your family is trying to reduce the consumer volume without turning it into a lecture, try this rhythm:
- two gifts that are meaningful
- one story that is shared
Make the story the anchor.
It could be:
- the Nativity
- a family memory
- a chapter from a faith-shaping book
- a short retelling of generosity or service
This gently teaches that Christmas is not measured by quantity, but by meaning.
Slowness as character formation
One of the reasons I love writing Christian fantasy for kids is that it trains moral muscles that childhood needs before adolescence sharpens.
Slowness does the same.
It builds:
- patience
- gratitude
- attentiveness
- humility
- self-control
These are not abstract virtues. They are the habits that later help a teenager withstand:
- peer pressure
- impulsive decisions
- cynicism
- identity confusion
- the urge to numb pain with noise
When we nurture slowness in preteens, we are not just protecting holiday peace.
We are building life stability.
The holy pause and the emotional reality of December
Not every family enters December with uncomplicated joy.
Some walk in with grief.
Some with stress.
Some with financial tightness.
Some with strained relationships.
In those situations, slowness is not sentimental.
It is merciful.
A hurried Christmas can feel cruel to a tender heart.
But the holy pause gives space for honesty:
- “We miss them.”
- “This year has been heavy.”
- “God is still good.”
- “We can still receive light.”
This is how a child learns that faith is not pretending.
It is trusting God in the real weather of life.
A preteen-friendly way to explain Advent
If your kids are in that 9–13 age range and you want language that doesn’t feel babyish or overly formal, try something like this:
“Advent is the season where we practice waiting for the Light.
We don’t rush to Christmas morning, because the waiting itself teaches our hearts how to hope.”
That single explanation is enough.
Advent doesn’t have to be complicated to be powerful.
A simple “Stretch & Comfort” reading plan for December
Since storytelling is one of the best tools for the holy pause, here’s a light plan you can use without turning reading into homework.
- Comfort reads: stories your child already loves
- Stretch reads: stories that gently deepen moral imagination
The key is balance.
In December, kids are already absorbing a lot of stimulation. This is not the time to overload them with dense, heavy reading schedules.
A simple rhythm:
- 3 comfort nights
- 1 stretch night
- then repeat
And keep the after-reading conversation short and warm.
One question is enough:
“What did the character choose when it cost something?”
That is discipleship disguised as storytime.
What slowness teaches about Jesus Himself
One reason the holy pause is so Christian is that the pace of Jesus is fundamentally different from the pace of the world.
Jesus was never frantic.
He was urgent about love, but not rushed in spirit.
He had time for children.
Time for questions.
Time for interrupted plans.
Time for meals.
Time for the overlooked.
So when a Christian home embraces slowness—especially in December—it is not merely a lifestyle choice.
It is imitation.
It is a way of saying:
“We want the rhythm of Christ to shape the rhythm of our family.”
A few “holy pause” traditions that kids actually enjoy
You don’t need a dozen.
Try one or two that feel alive for your home.
1) The “quiet gift”
Once in December, give one small gift with no fanfare.
No big reveal.
Just quiet kindness.
This teaches that generosity does not need a stage.
2) The “story night”
Set one evening where the main event is:
- reading aloud
- a simple treat
- and an early bedtime
Kids remember this because it feels like secret peace.
3) The “serving ritual”
Choose one act of kindness your family does every year in December:
- cookies for a neighbor
- a donation
- a note to a teacher
- a small gift for someone who can’t repay it
This turns Christmas into a practice of outward light, not inward craving.
How to keep slowness from feeling forced
The holy pause should feel like relief, not punishment.
A good rule:
Don’t use slowness as a lecture. Use it as a shelter.
Instead of:
“We’re doing this because Christmas is too commercial.”
Try:
“I love being with you like this.”
Kids respond to warmth far more than ideology.
If your child resists quiet
That’s normal.
Some children resist slowness because they’re not used to it. Silence can feel strange at first.
Introduce it gently:
- keep it short
- make it predictable
- attach it to something sensory (candle, cocoa, blanket, a song)
- let them help lead
And remember: children often pretend they don’t like what they’ll later treasure.
The deeper gift
In the end, slowness is not about controlling children.
It’s about loving them well enough to give them something the world rarely offers:
space to feel meaning.
Space to notice.
Space to reflect.
Space to want Jesus, not just presents.
Space to recognize that the best part of Christmas is not what we open; it is Who came near.
A simple December blessing for families
Here’s a short blessing you can speak over your kids once this season—maybe during a candle moment or right before bed:
May the Lord of Light steady your heart.
May your joy grow deeper than noise.
May your kindness grow stronger than craving.
May you learn to wait with hope,
and may you recognize Jesus not only in Christmas morning,
but in the quiet holy pauses that lead you there. Amen.
Closing: Christmas is coming, but so is formation
The world will keep trying to speed December up.
That’s what it does.
But Christian families get to choose a different rhythm.
We can choose to remember that the joy of Christmas is not meant to arrive like a shopping sprint.
It is meant to arrive like sunrise.
Slow.
Steady.
Certain.
Full of promise.
When we teach children to slow down in December, we are not just improving the holiday experience.
We are training their souls to recognize the way God often moves:
quietly, patiently, faithfully, with love that refuses to hurry past what matters.
So light a candle.
Read a chapter.
Read a book.
Bless a child by name.
Give one quiet gift.
Take one slow evening.
And let the holy pause do what it does best:
make room for Jesus.