I pray for your strength. And I don’t just mean strength to live or to get the pickle jar open. I mean the strength to push back the covers, to put your feet on the floor, and to get out of bed every day. I mean that I pray that you stand up in the morning and know you belong here, in this place, in this time. I pray you know that you belong. That you have a purpose. That you have a job to do.
I pray that you know how loved you are. And I don’t just mean by your mom. I pray you know how much I need you. How much I need your check-in texts—even when you know I won’t always respond. I pray that you know how much I need your help to solve my problems, to cheer on my success, and to pick up the pieces when it all goes pear-shaped.
I pray that you know you are a good mom. And I don’t just mean because you love your kids. I pray you realize that every long basketball game, wrestling meet, speech meet, or boy scout mom thing that you sit through . . . I pray you realize that every single choir concert, every single painting project you keep, and every single time you’ve wanted to kick little Timmy for hurting your own baby . . . I pray you know how you shine as your kid’s champion. I pray you know how much you shine.
I pray that you realize the astonishing power you possess. And I don’t just mean power that gets your kid to unload the dishwasher. I mean power that could actually move mountains and heal hurts. I pray that you realize how you light up rooms and hearts, and I pray that deep down, down in your marrow, you realize how much you matter . . . and not just to me.
And since the God I pray to understands me like no one else, I send up prayers of thanks—for all of those times each of us finds ourselves laughing on random Thursday afternoons. All of the inside jokes. All of the boys who came and went. The time I was 16 and crashed into my ex-boyfriend’s car. All the times you’ve literally saved my entire life. Because there have been so many. There have been so many days that have buckled me. So many days that have brought me straight to my knees. And there you were—right beside me on the ground.
Teaching me, yet again.
How to pray.
You might also like:
Want more stories of love, family, and faith from the heart of every home, delivered straight to you? Sign up here!