I had the good fortune of being raised by not just one excellent mother but also an entire community of them. And I’d have to say I’m the better for it

I remember when Hillary Clinton's book It Takes a Village came out several years back, the accompanying uproar from conservatives was deafening. Many people saw it as a communal manifesto for socialism—where society takes over raising our children and we give up our parental power.

I have to confess that I've never read her book. I might have been too busy raising my kids to read about all the people it takes to raise kids.

“But I have prayed for you, that your faith should not fail; and when you have returned to Me, strengthen your brethren” (Luke 22:32, NKJV).

Several years ago I talked with the leader of a Christian rehabilitation ministry, and he said that the most difficult young people to help are those of Christian parents. He went on to say, "They refuse to let their children suffer the consequences of their behavior.

"Often, they are concerned about how they will look in the eyes of others, or fear being judged and found lacking. Some will question their faith."

As every mother knows, there is no respite from parenting. When my teenage daughter became pregnant, I had to find a way to nurture her and confront my own issues at the same time.

My daughter Windsor had been sleeping a lot. She would come home from school and take long naps before dragging down to dinner.

She was keeping company with a young man who was pleasant, but had few ambitions. I didn't prevent them from seeing each other, but I certainly hoped their relationship would soon run its course.

My son's desperate act changed our family's future. But God, in His mercy, brought redemption when our former dreams died.

I don't tell the story of my son in order to give anybody the impression that he is a hero-that is far from the truth, in the traditional sense anyway. He shot and killed a man in broad daylight. Instead, I tell it to share with others the painful, incredible passage of faith my family and I have trod for half a decade.

I tell this story because everything I believe about God has been tested by fire, and has withstood the flames. I tell it because my heart has been bruised and broken by sorrow, and then restored by grace.

WHETHER YOU'RE A PARENT OR NOT, YOUNG PEOPLE ARE LOOKING TO YOU FOR GUIDANCE. LET'S STEER THEM INTO GOD'S PURPOSE.

Lord, have mercy on our souls," I mumbled to myself as my friend Marvie turned the key in the ignition. She was 16, did not have a driver's license and was behind the wheel of my father's car. I was 15, was a nervous wreck on the passenger side and had just pulled off an unlikely scheme to fool my Dad into handing over the keys.

Our mission was to make it to a gospel concert at Detroit's Northwest Activity Center. We were determined to fulfill that mission. After all, we both loved good singing, and it wasn't as if we were sneaking off to a Jackson 5 concert. It was a gospel concert, for goodness' sake.

WANT YOUR CHILDREN TO MAKE RIGHTEOUS CHOICES IN LIFE? BECAUSE OF THE HEAVY INFLUENCE OF OUR CULTURE, YOU'LL HAVE TO PUT EXTRA EFFORT INTO RAISING THEM UP.

Not long ago I sat with my son, Tate, and five other class council members and their moms at a crowded restaurant eating taco salads and burgers as we finalized our plans for the junior-senior prom. I (Cyndi) knew I had to address the dancing problem before we left the meeting.

In my son's high school there are two dances a year, the Christmas dance and the junior-senior prom. Parents sponsor both events. Since Tate was junior class president, I was the unofficial chairperson for the dances.