If you’d asked Emily what she wanted most for her daughter, she wouldn’t have hesitated. “I just want her to be happy,” she’d say with a fond smile, catching sight of fourteen-year-old Anna laughing in the kitchen or strumming her guitar in the den. To Emily, happiness was Anna’s sunshine—her laughter a sound that colored every corner of their home.
Emily was a hardworking, prayerful woman, quick to drop everything for her daughter’s heartaches and celebrations. Every report card, every school play, every fleeting heartbreak—all received the same fervent blessing: “Lord, please just let my girl be happy.” In quiet moments, Emily would whisper this prayer, believing it was the truest gift she could offer.
When Happiness Is Hard
But eighth grade brought change. Anna grew quiet. The laughter faded, replaced by sighs and the soft click of her bedroom door. Little worries grew into bigger ones—the swim tryout she didn’t make, friends who drifted away, a confidence that wavered. Emily tried to fill the void, offering encouragement, new activities, favorite dinners, a surprise shopping trip for shoes Anna tossed aside after one wearing.
Nothing seemed to spark the old happiness. Emily’s simple prayer changed tone: “God, why isn’t Anna happy? What am I missing?”
A Deeper Heartache
One evening, Anna returned from youth group looking especially downcast. Emily set aside her phone and pulled her in close. “Sweetheart, talk to me. Are you upset about something at church?”
Anna shrugged. “No, not really. I just… I feel like everyone expects me to be happy all the time, but I’m not. I don’t even know if I fit in with everyone at youth group anymore. They’re so sure of everything. I feel lost.”
Emily’s heart tightened. Instinctively, she wanted to cheer Anna up, to tip the world so happiness might slip back in like sunlight. But something in Anna’s words made her pause.
“Anna,” she said carefully, “it’s okay not to be happy all the time. You can tell me anything.”
Anna looked at her, eyes brimming with tears. “Mom, do you ever feel… sad? Do you ever wonder about God or what really matters?”
Understanding What True Happiness Is
Emily felt a rush of honesty rising. “Oh, Anna. Of course I do. Joy isn’t just about feeling good. There have been a lot of days I’ve felt lost or worried. Sometimes I even wonder if I’m doing this ‘Christian mom thing’ right. But I’ve learned real happiness—or joy—is different from always being happy.”
She drew Anna onto the sofa and continued: “The happiness I pray for you isn’t just for when things go right or when your friends are loyal or when you win an award. Real joy is deeper—something I’ve felt even on my hardest days because I know Jesus is with me. Sometimes, His peace comes when I don’t understand, and yes, sometimes it’s through tears.”
Anna’s head rested on her mother’s shoulder. For a while, they just sat—together in the quiet, together in the not-happy.
God Wants More Than Happiness
The weeks that followed brought more honest moments. Emily realized her greatest hope wasn’t just for Anna to feel happy, but for her to grow strong in faith, character, and love. They started reading Psalms together before bed. Sometimes Anna asked questions about the harder passages or shared doubts she was afraid to admit before.
Emily stopped feeling like she had to chase happiness for her daughter. Instead, she focused on pointing Anna to Jesus—His promises, His presence, His faithfulness in every season. They prayed together, not just for good days, but for hearts that could trust God in every circumstance.
Emily noticed something bloom in Anna—a quiet strength, a willingness to sit with her sadness and still reach for God. Anna began helping with the children’s ministry at church, tutoring a neighbor, singing worship songs while she cooked grilled cheese. The old laughter returned, not as an unbroken chain of “happy,” but as moments of real, hard-earned joy.
The Danger of Making Happiness the Main Goal
One Sunday, their pastor spoke about real happiness. “If happiness is our main goal, we’ll spend our lives running from pain or chasing what never lasts. But if we seek Jesus, we’ll find something better—joy that holds us steady through ups and downs.”
After the service, Emily squeezed Anna’s hand. They both knew, in that moment, they were learning to let God define what truly mattered.
Emily began to see that always fixing, always protecting Anna from every sadness, wasn’t loving at all. Instead, it taught her girl to fear pain and miss out on the deeper, lasting treasures gained by walking with Jesus through life’s hills and valleys.
Anna stopped measuring her worth by social wins or perfect days. She started journaling prayers, writing about ways God met her in her disappointment or how Scripture comforted her at swim practice on hard days. She even reached out to a lonely classmate, daring to share her own struggles and inviting the other girl to youth group.
A Better Goal for Parenting
Emily’s heart changed, too. She still longed for Anna’s happiness, but her prayers shifted. “Lord, let Anna know your love when things are hard. Give her courage to seek you and hope that outlasts sorrow. Shape her to be brave, kind, and wise for your glory, not just for her comfort.”
She realized that true success in parenting didn’t mean raising a daughter who was always happy, but one who was anchored in Christ—able to face pain, love others, and carry peace that the world can’t take away.
Anna grew into those prayers. On her sixteenth birthday, Emily wrote her a letter. “I love you so much. I’m proud of all you are—not because life is perfect, but because you trust God even when it isn’t. My greatest joy is seeing you grow into the woman God made you to be—faithful, loving, and true.”
Joy That Lasts
Years later, Anna would tell her own children about the nights on the couch with her mom, about the psalms they read and the prayers they whispered in the dark. She’d teach them that happiness is fleeting—even the best days come and go—but joy, real joy born of following Jesus, is something no struggle or sorrow can erase.
Emily’s little prayer—“I just want her to be happy”—became a richer, deeper hope. She wanted Anna to know joy so deep it survived every high and low, rooted not in ease, but in the faithful love of the Savior.
And in their home, laughter returned—not as the proof of a pain-free life, but as the music of grace that dances through every season, good or bad.
A Mother’s Greatest Gift
What Emily learned, and what Anna came to embrace, is this: Parenting is about more than happiness. It’s about guiding a child to know the source of true joy. The adventures and the tears, the victories and the valleys—each is woven by the Lord’s hand for a purpose bigger than both of them could see.
The deepest prayers of a Christian parent aren’t for a life free of pain, but for children anchored in faith, hope, and love. For in knowing Christ, there is a happiness that outlasts every trial, a joy that won’t let go.
And that, Emily realized at last, is the best kind of happy there is.