Late Night Text

What I Told My Son Before Prom Night

It was around 8:16 pm.

House was quiet in that weird way where the silence doesn’t mean peace, it means something is happening somewhere else. My wife was already in bed, our daughter was in her room half-watching some volleyball video on her phone. And I was downstairs, sitting on the couch, staring at my phone like it might tell me what to do.

photo by Hayden on her disposable camera.

My son had just left. Junior prom. He looked good. Really good! Nervous and excited. You know that look—half grown, half child. Tie slightly crooked. Cologne a little too strong. That beautiful age where you think you know everything, and in some ways, maybe you do.

And I thought to myself—do I say something? Do I text him now? Let him have his moment? Let him figure it out?

I didn’t want to sound like I didn’t trust him. But I also didn’t want to stay silent.

So I wrote something simple. A text. Late night from dad. Not a lecture. Not a list. Just something that I hope will sit somewhere deep in the back of his mind, long after tonight is over.

I wrote:

"Spiritual strength is not the same as physical strength. It’s not always measured by how much temptation you can resist. It’s measured by how clearly you can see unhealth coming before it gets to you. Small decisions add up. That goes both ways."

Send.

And then I just sat there. No response, of course. That’s not the point. He’s out with his friends. Music too loud. Probably laughing at something ridiculous.

the homies

But here’s the thing: I don’t want to raise a kid who just knows how to say no. I want to raise someone who knows how to see. Who knows how to sense when something is off. Who trusts his gut—that quiet voice shaped by years of walking with God and soaking in the wisdom of people who’ve walked ahead of him. Who can catch the shift in the room.

That’s what I think spiritual strength is. Not about standing up to every temptation like it’s a fight scene in a Marvel movie. It’s about wisdom. Discernment. Clarity.

It’s about seeing it before it sees you.

And listen, I don’t always get it right. I still talk too much. Still try to fix things when I should just shut up and listen. Still assume when I should ask.

But I’m learning. I’m learning that curiosity goes further than control. That a well-timed question is more powerful than a perfectly delivered answer. That parenting teenagers is 90% being ready to listen, and 10% resisting the urge to freak out.

Parenting is in the reflex.

And honestly? That feels spiritual, too. I’m reminded of passage in the Bible, where fathers are called not to provoke their children, but to hold space for them. Or in Ephesians 4, where we’re invited to make every effort to keep unity through the bond of peace. Parenting teens might not look like peace on the outside, but when we stay curious, ask instead of assume, and lean toward connection, we’re living that kind of peace from the inside out.

Chillsiah in Paris

So if you’re parenting a teen—or loving one, or mentoring one, or just trying to survive one—maybe tonight is a good night to send a little reminder. A text. A moment of presence. Not because they need your rules, but because they might still need your voice.

They may not say it. May not even respond.

But they’re still listening.

And this phase? It won’t last forever.

Don’t miss it.