Many of you know that my oldest daughter is spending the year in Finland. A few days ago, she sent me this photo of a stunning snowflake, and it instantly took me back to a moment from over a decade ago—when she first learned that no two snowflakes are the same. That realization is kind of amazing, isn’t it? Every single snowflake is different. Each one is shaped by its own journey—by the temperature, the wind, and the time it takes to form.
Watching kids discover this for the first time never gets old for me. It’s one of those small moments that carries a really big truth. Snowflakes may fall quietly, but they point us to a God who cares deeply about detail and uniqueness.
In Children’s Ministry, I see “snowflakes” every single week. Kids who learn in all kinds of ways. Kids who talk nonstop. Kids who quietly take everything in. Kids who show up bursting with energy—and kids who arrive carrying heavy things for such young hearts. Scripture tells us that God knit each of us together on purpose, and when I look around our classrooms, I believe that with everything I’ve got. God didn’t mass-produce our kids. He made each one carefully and intentionally.
Families are a lot like snowstorms—made up of many unique pieces moving together. No two families look exactly the same, and honestly, that’s a gift. Some families are in a calm season, others feel like life is swirling all around them. Some are brand new, and some have been here for generations. All belong. Just like snowflakes settle together to blanket the ground, God gathers families into community, surrounding us with grace when life feels cold or uncertain.
One of the most fascinating things about snowflakes is how delicate they are on their own—and how powerful they are together. One snowflake melts in your hand, but thousands can completely change a landscape. That’s how God designed the church, too. Kids need families. Families need community. And all of us need Jesus at the center, holding it all together.
Jesus often pointed to children as examples of faith—not because they had everything figured out, but because they trusted so fully. Snowflakes don’t decide their shape or their path; they simply fall where they’re sent. In the same way, when kids learn that God loves them exactly as they are, it frees them to trust, grow, and reflect God’s beauty in their own unique ways.
As a children’s pastor, it’s a joy and a privilege to help kids discover that they are known, loved, and created with purpose—never by accident. My prayer for our families is that we would slow down enough to notice the “snowflakes” around us: the small moments, the quiet questions, the everyday wonder. When we do, we start to see God everywhere—gently at work in our lives, reminding us that we are wonderfully made, and even more beautiful when we belong together.