The Night-Before-School Blessing, and Who Gets to Ask for It

Lily waited until we were halfway home from church on Sunday, one sandal in her hand because the strap had rubbed, and asked David, "Are you doing the blessing before school, or do I have to ask?"

He said he was planning on it. She said okay, and then, "I just wasn't sure it was automatic."

I've been turning that over for two days, because she's eight and she'd worked out that a thing might depend on her speaking up, and she'd decided to check rather than hope. School starts tomorrow, so tonight is the night in our house, and this is how it goes.

What a father's blessing is, in plain terms

A father who holds the Melchizedek Priesthood puts his hands lightly on a child's head. He says the child's full name, says he's acting by the authority of that priesthood, and then gives words of blessing, comfort and counsel as the Spirit directs. He closes in the name of Jesus Christ. That's the whole structure. There's no form and no sign-off from anyone and no set length.

President Spencer W. Kimball said this in the October 1977 general conference:

"Of course, it is the right of every father and his duty as patriarch of his own family to give a father's blessing to his children, and it is our hope that every father will give a sacred blessing to each of his children, especially as they are leaving home to go to school or on missions or to be married, which blessing should then be noted in the individual's private journal."

He was probably picturing a bigger leaving than a third-grader with a horse-print pencil pouch. Fathers have been stretching it to cover the first day of school for a long time, though, and I've never heard anyone say they shouldn't.

What David says, and what the kids remember of it

He pulls a dining chair into the middle of the front room, and whoever is being blessed sits on it with the others on the couch pretending not to watch. It takes about three minutes. He doesn't promise grades. Last year he told Caleb to notice who was eating alone at lunch, and that a coach's voice isn't the Lord's but a coach is still worth listening to, which got a laugh in the middle of a blessing. That's allowed.

I don't quiz anybody about it afterward, and Caleb brought it up himself in the car last week and said what he remembers is that Dad says his whole name. "Caleb David Whitaker," he said, doing the voice. Lily says David's hands are warm and he doesn't rush. Ben is two and nine months and thinks a hand on his head is a game, so his blessing happens with him reaching for David's watch. David gives it anyway.

Caleb is starting sixth grade with a padlock he has to learn to open, which I wrote about in a combination lock is the best sixth-grade prep I know. The shoes are bought too. I put the total in the back-to-school post and I'm still a little sore about it. The blessing is the one item on the list that costs nothing and can't be bought at a store, and it's the one I'd be saddest to skip.

The year it happened at ten at night

Lily started first grade in August 2024. David's team at work was pushing a release that week and it ran long, so he got home a little before ten on the night before school, and Lily had been asleep for two hours.

He stood in the doorway of her room with his keys still in his hand and said he wasn't going to let it go to morning. I said she'd be a wreck at breakfast if we woke her. He said he'd be a wreck at work if he didn't. I lost that one, and he was right.

She sat up and asked if it was morning. He said no, sit still a minute and put his hands on her head, and I stood in the hall with Biscuit pressed against my leg. His voice was lower than I'm used to. I couldn't tell you the words, because I was mostly watching her eyelids go. She was asleep again before he got to the end, and he finished it anyway before he tucked her in and went down to eat cold pasta standing at the counter.

At breakfast the next day Lily said, "Dad did something to my head last night." Then she asked if there was any syrup.

If your house doesn't have this yet

You don't need a ceremony or special words, and there's no rule that says it has to be in August. Some fathers go tongue-tied the first time. A short blessing that has the child's name in it and one real thing the father has noticed about them is plenty.

Some homes have no priesthood holder in them, or a father who travels for work. The first question below is for you.

Frequently Asked Questions

What if there's no priesthood holder in our home?

Ask someone who holds the Melchizedek Priesthood and knows your child, like a grandfather, an uncle, a ministering brother or your bishop. It's still a blessing given in love for your family. You can be in the room, and you can pray with your child out loud afterward in your own words, which is something mothers do every night anyway.

How long should it be?

Ours runs about three minutes and I wouldn't go longer for a seven-year-old. Some are a few sentences. Some, for a missionary or a bride, run much longer. Nobody grades it.

Should we write it down?

President Kimball asked for it to be noted in a private journal, and I do that for the children the next morning. I jot a few lines of what I remember David saying. I don't record it, because a microphone changes the room and David talks more carefully when there's one.

What if my child doesn't want one?

Then don't make them. A couple of years ago Caleb said "maybe not this time" and David said fine and told him the offer stood. He asked the next morning. A blessing a child is dragged into isn't the one you were hoping to give.

What should a father say if he blanks?

Say the child's name. Say one thing you've seen them do that you're proud of. Ask for a friend and for protection, and close. It's all right if it's short.

If you've been meaning to and it's tonight or never, ask tonight. Move a chair into the middle of the room, put your hands on the child's head and don't wait until you have the right words.

with love, Melissa