Your Prayer is My Prayer

“Your prayer will be my prayer momma.”
These words from my oldest girl make me sigh and remind me of what’s best about being their momma.  When the work day has taken almost every ounce of energy I have; I want to go through bedrooms snapping off lights and scurry down the hallway to my own bed.  I want to skip songs and prayers.  I do, that’s the real, raw, truth of a tired, overworked mom on a Tuesday night at 9:04p.m., but the Lord puts his hands on me and I hear him whisper, “Stay.”

 So I stay. 

And my rebellious spirit isn’t happy because my day started almost fourteen hours ago and all I can think is I just need five minutes.  Five minutes to breathe and hear nothing but the sound of my own breath. But God says, stay.

 So I stay. 

Luke wants “that Amazing Grace song” so I sing it; somewhat off key and not all three verses tonight, but I sing it.  Afterward I bend over and place my hand on his hair and say the same prayer I say with him almost every night.  The sister in the middle shows up before we’re done and whispers, “We’re ready for you in our room now.”  I tuck in two girls and give kisses on lips and foreheads and before I can say goodnight and hit the switch that sister says, “Say prayers with us momma.”  And I think, stay.

 Stay right here. 

This is where it’s at.  This is God and family wrapped in love; of this I have no doubt.  And I’m so shamed and humbled by the fact that I almost missed it tonight that I can barely get the first words to God out of my mouth.  And I forget those babies are there listening and the ladder I’m leaning on from the bunk bed becomes an altar. 

I talk and he listens, but so do they.  I ask for forgiveness for my temper and my mouth because heaven knows those weren't holy ground today, and I thank him for the blessings I don’t deserve, especially his son.  I ask him to protect my family as only he can and to keep us in the center of his will.  I pray for my patients, naming the sickest ones out loud one by one.  I pray for the people who are hurting and ask that God reveal himself to them as only he can.  I ask him to protect our son, Isaiah, and keep him safe.  I ask that he watch over every child that is without a home, and that if they never know an earthly Father that someday they will come to know him.  I pray that it’s our family’s mission in life to tell everyone how much Christ loves them.

After my Amen my oldest says, “your prayer will be my prayer, momma.” 
Oh dear God thank you for whispering, “Stay.”  Thank you for shaping my awful, hell bent will into yours tonight.  Keep doing that.  Whatever else you do for me Father just keep making me be like you. 

And let them see it. 

Let these kids see every moment I struggle and every second where you succeed in me.  Help me show them that whatever is good in me is you.

Let them know what it looks like to be real.  A wholly imperfect believer who almost never gets it right, but also never wants to stop trying to.
 
Allow them to see grace in action every day in this house as you walk this life with me.  Let them see me stumble and fall so they will learn that you are faithful to forgive. 

And above all let them see a faith that listens for you.  So that when you whisper, “stay” to them they won’t miss holy ground.

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith-and this not from yourselves, it is a gift from God-not by works, so that no one can boast.
Ephesians 2:8,9
But if anyone obeys his word, God’s love is truly made complete in him.  This is how we know we are in him:  Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did.  1 John 2:5,6
If we confess our sins he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.  1 John 1:9