As a parent, there are so many special moments.

So many.

I am overwhelmed in the best of ways when I think about your first cry, or those beginning babbles, or the times you say “I love you, too,” just because you feel it, or when you share one of those especially hearty belly laughs.

Goodness, I adore a hearty belly laugh.

It was even special, though bittersweet, when you no longer fit into the “T” toddler clothes, or when your face seemed to change overnight, or when we started calling playdates “hang-outs,” or when you were no longer reading beginning chapter books, but novels, deepened with complex everything.

Yes, in their own right, all of these were special moments.

They’re like this little road map of you, on this sometimes difficult, sometimes beautiful, sometimes both, journey of life.

But I must say, some of my most beloved moments, the most beloved little dots on the map, are when we pray together.

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I never seem to start and finish as the same person.

This usually happens in the morning, while we’re surrounded in that early light and eager air, when our minds are fresh and hearts full at the day’s possibilities. There is such a palpable excitement to the newness of the day. Something that is somehow never exactly the same, always laced in its unique, invigorating flair.

I pray first.

I feel so imperfect at everything I do, and this is no exception. I come to Jesus, with vulnerability, with Scripture, with whatever pours. This is my attempt at trying to show you prayer, but truly, among the other things I ask, I’m quietly asking for the words to show you, for the Holy Spirit to move us all at this moment.

My voice is quiet at first, but it gathers strength as my heart continues.

I pray for wisdom.
I pray for discernment.
I pray for grace.
I pray for favor.
I pray for protection.
I pray that we will serve in a way that pleases God.
I pray for His perfect will to be done.

I pray this for Dad.
I pray this for you.
I pray this for myself.

And then, it’s your turn.

Your tone is reverent. You’ve been in Sunday school, in church, in school, across dinner tables, beside family listening to the highs and lows of prayers, watching bowed heads and clasped hands. Much of the same language is repeated, the same prayers.

But, as the words flow, there’s this moment that happens.

The very air seems to still, while the world moves in slow motion. I can hear my breath. I can feel my heartbeat. And I’m in awe that I get a front-row seat to a most miraculous, a most beautiful blossoming.

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You begin to share your own prayers, the inner thoughts that have rooted in your heart. You’re speaking to your Lord in a way that shows He is personal to you. You’re speaking to your all-powerful best friend. Your prayers, they lift, sprinkling the space with a lighted beauty, sprinkling the space with a soaring hope.

You pray for family.
You pray for friends.
You pray for dreams.
You pray for healing.
You pray for joy.
You pray for strangers who Jesus loves.

And suddenly, I am the student, so very reminded why Jesus wanted the little children to come to Him, so very reminded of how much there is to learn, yet grateful for the opportunity to do so, and never alone.

It is then that I know my initial prayer has been answered because, in this beloved moment of mine, the Holy Spirit has, indeed, moved us all.

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Amberly Kristen Clowe

Amberly Kristen Clowe enjoys blogging and writing humorous, faith-based children's books from her Texas home. You can find out more about her at www.amberlykristenclowe.comFacebook, and Twitter

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