As a rule, I try to steer clear of opinions pertaining to your

In the gentle wisdom of Emma McLaughlin, we hear these words: “As a rule, I try to steer clear of opinions pertaining to your parenting. I assume you are doing the best you can, and God bless.” This is not merely a polite dismissal of judgment, but a teaching cloaked in humility and compassion. It acknowledges that the path of raising children is a road steep and winding, where no two travelers walk the same terrain. To cast judgment from afar is easy; to walk the road itself is the true trial.

The ancients spoke often of the burden of judgment. In the teachings of Christ, we hear the warning: “Judge not, lest you be judged.” In the Analects of Confucius, the Master reminds us that wisdom is not in finding fault with others, but in correcting one’s own way. McLaughlin’s words echo these timeless truths. She knows that each parent, whether weary or strong, rich or poor, faces unseen battles. To assume they are doing the best they can is to grant them the dignity of respect, rather than the poison of criticism.

Consider the story of Theodore Roosevelt, who, after the death of his beloved wife, found himself raising children while carrying the weight of the nation. Many judged him harshly, saying he was too rough, too absent, too stern. Yet his daughter, Alice, though rebellious, later admitted that her father’s love and effort shone through even his imperfections. Had the critics known the private grief and burden he carried, they might have held their tongues and, like McLaughlin, offered blessing instead of blame.

Her words also uncover a deeper truth: that parenting is not a science perfected by rules, but an art painted with tears, laughter, patience, and mistakes. Each parent shapes their child in the way they are able, with the tools life has granted them. Some have the wealth of time, others only fleeting hours. Some have knowledge, others only instinct. But in all, there is a striving, a reaching toward love. To honor this striving is to see the humanity behind every parent’s choices.

From this we learn a lesson fit for our times: that judgment divides, while blessing heals. When we see another struggling with their child, let us not sharpen our tongues, but soften our hearts. Instead of whispering critique, let us extend a hand of support. Instead of assuming failure, let us assume effort. For in truth, no parent is perfect, yet every parent is marked by moments of courage unseen.

What, then, must we do? First, we must silence the urge to measure others against our own way, remembering that their story is not ours to tell. Second, we must offer words of kindness—sometimes as simple as McLaughlin’s “God bless”—for encouragement can lighten burdens unseen. Third, let us cultivate patience with our own imperfections, recognizing that the harshness we project upon others often reflects the unrest within ourselves.

O children of tomorrow, remember this teaching: the greatest gift you can give to a weary parent is not advice cloaked as judgment, but grace. For grace acknowledges both the struggle and the love that endure in the heart of every mother, every father. To bless instead of condemn is to weave strength into the fabric of community.

Thus, Emma McLaughlin’s words stand as a quiet yet powerful commandment for our age: respect the unseen struggle, assume the best, and bless the weary heart. In this way, we do not add to the burdens of those already bent low, but help them rise with courage to walk another day.