This week has brought a heartbreak that feels impossible to put into words. The loss of Charlie Kirk has shaken me deeply. The news was inescapable—so much so that Lucy heard about it and asked questions.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself as tears streamed down my face, and explained in the simplest way possible: “A wonderful, Godly man was just killed today by someone who was weak and afraid of him.” Lucy listened quietly, thought for a moment, and then wrapped me in the sweetest, most comforting hug.
That moment reminded me that children don’t always need long explanations—they need presence. They need honesty, offered at a level they can process. And they need our arms just as much as we need theirs.
Over the past couple of days, our conversations have continued. We thanked God together that the killer was apprehended, which led Lucy into more questions about what happens after someone is arrested. We found ourselves discussing the court system, judges, and juries. She was captivated. She is old enough now to hold onto these moments, but still young enough that certain details don’t need to be painted too vividly.
I have tried to be intentional—real without being overwhelming. I let her see my tears, but I have not unraveled in front of her. I told her the saddest part is that Charlie’s precious children will never again run into his arms this side of Heaven. That truth has made every hug from my own children feel more sacred.
To all the parents who are grieving, I encourage you: don’t shy away from these hard conversations. Your children don’t need you to be perfect, they need you to be present. It is in moments like these that bonds deepen, hearts are tenderized, and lessons are taught that no textbook could ever capture.
And as we teach our children, we also remember. Charlie Kirk’s life was a light. He was a man unafraid to stand boldly for truth, a faithful husband, and a devoted father. He was salt and light in a world that often prefers shadows. His voice resonated because it was rooted in conviction and faith.
We grieve because his absence is great—but we also give thanks because his impact is eternal. His legacy will continue in his family, in the countless lives he touched, and in the seeds of courage he planted in the hearts of believers across our nation.
So tonight, as you hug your children a little tighter, may you also whisper a prayer of thanks for Charlie Kirk’s life and one for the family who now carries on his light. Let us honor his memory not only by remembering him, but by raising children who are strong, courageous, and faithful—just as he was.
Raising Light 