Dating as a single parent is tricky. My kids are usually seen

In the words of Stephanie Land, we hear the quiet ache of many hearts: “Dating as a single parent is tricky. My kids are usually seen less as a ‘bonus’ and more as a ‘situation.’” These words, simple yet piercing, unveil the hidden loneliness of those who have walked through the storms of love and loss, carrying not only their own hearts but the hearts of their children. In them, we find both tenderness and weariness—a recognition that the world often values convenience over compassion, and that those who come with responsibility are too easily dismissed as burdens rather than blessings.

To the ancients, family was sacred. It was not a weight but a covenant, not an obstacle but a torch passed through generations. Yet in our modern age, where self-interest and speed govern affection, the single parent often stands as a figure both noble and misunderstood. They are the ones who have chosen endurance over escape, who rise before dawn to work and to care, who bear both the role of nurturer and protector. But when they step into the world of love once more, they are met not with honor but with hesitation. The world, blinded by the pursuit of ease, calls their devotion a situation, when it is, in truth, a testament—a sign of courage, resilience, and deep, selfless love.

In the tale of Ruth, from ancient scripture, there lies a mirror to Land’s lament. Ruth, a widow and foreigner, carried with her the weight of her past and her loyalty to her mother-in-law, Naomi. When she sought a new life among strangers, she was not greeted as a prize, but as a woman with “circumstances.” Yet in time, her steadfastness and humility won the heart of Boaz, who saw not her burden but her strength. Her story endures because it reminds us that true love recognizes the beauty in responsibility—it sees the divine in duty, and the sacred in sacrifice.

So too must we learn to see as Boaz did. To love a single parent is to love a soul already tempered by fire, one who has known both the breaking and the building of life. Their children are not a complication, but the purest reflection of their capacity to love, to nurture, to endure. Yet many in the world shrink from such love, fearing the weight of another’s history, forgetting that the most beautiful lives are rarely untouched by struggle. For the heart that has suffered and still hopes is the most worthy of companionship.

Stephanie Land, through her work and her words, speaks for a generation of those who have labored unseen—the working mothers and fathers who clean homes, who mend wounds, who build futures with hands that never rest. Her lament is not bitterness, but truth. It is the cry of one who wishes the world would see her children not as obstacles, but as treasures—living proof that love endures even after disappointment. Her words remind us that to overlook such souls is to deny ourselves the richness of the human spirit.

Reflect, then, dear listener: Do not measure another by the simplicity of their path, but by the depth of their devotion. When you meet one who carries more than their own heart, look closer. Within them lies the story of survival, the song of quiet sacrifice, the echo of ancient love. Do not call it a “situation.” Call it what it is—a blessing in motion, a living testament to the power of enduring affection.

The lesson is clear: In all your dealings with love and with people, see beyond the surface. Embrace those whose lives carry complexity, for complexity is the root of depth. Do not seek ease in love—seek truth. Do not chase perfection—seek courage. And when you find someone who has built life from ashes, honor them as the ancients honored their heroes. For the single parent, though weary, walks with the wisdom of two hearts—their own and the child’s. And those who walk beside them do not follow behind a burden—they walk within the circle of a brave and sacred love.