All in Prayer

Prayer is a window into our children’s hearts. I learn more about what is stirring in the hearts of my three boys from our nightly prayer time when they are all nestled into their beds than I do during our conversations gathered around the kitchen table.

Let me assure you that not all of our nights conclude with a meaningful prayer time. Sometimes it takes everything in me just to collapse into their beds, exhausted of patience, and muster up just enough strength to mumble, “Lord thank you for loving us. We love you too.”  

One of my favorite ways to pray with our boys is by using the A.C.T.S. model of prayer. However, I quickly learned that the words (A) adoration, (C) confession, (T) thanksgiving, and (S) supplication didn’t resonate with our boys, so we began to simplify

The Fantasy of Rest

It's a radiant four pm. The counters are wiped, slick. The sink is empty and dinner is simmering next to my teapot, also humming. The children are willingly lost in the woods out back and the babe still asleep. I can't smell anyone's afternoon sweat and there's not a disparate sock in sight. The only smell in my house, aside from dinner, is the new candle I lit to memorialize afternoons like this one. 

I sink into my chair, alone, with a book and my Bible and I'm ready to receive all that the next full hour of rest has for me.

This is you, too, right? "Once every three and a half months," you answer, if you're like me.

Except in my mind's eye.

If there is room for fantasy for a mother of five who moonlights as a writer, this would be my daily fantasy. Life ordered and quiet -- so that I can actually rest.

If I knew that slowing down to say hello to a fellow mom could land me in such a pool of mommy guilt, I would have kept on going. She started off the conversation with a rather innocent question, but before I knew what happening, one of my comments opened up a door to an accusation I never saw coming . . . and that triggered an onslaught of mommy guilt.  I nodded along with a smile on my face, but but on the inside, I was on the brink of tears and feeling like a failure as a mom.  

Guilt has the power wreck us, but God’s grace always has the upper hand when we yield to His truth. {click to tweet}

I pressed on with the details of the evening, feeling icky and wishing I could go home. All I wanted to do was talk to my husband, and yet looking back, I’m so glad that was not an option. Instead, I ended up emptying my heart before the Lord each time the emotions rose up inside of me.

I'd like to think I'm an expert pray-er. I can clearly see how my prayers changed things. For example, I have three little kids—not birthed from me—running around my house who are examples of that. Yet the way that my prayers changed the future is different than you think.

God is not a genie in a bottle. My prayers weren't effective because I figured out the right words to make God do what I want to do. I used to think that. As a young Christian I'd try all sorts of things:

  • praying in the morning
  • praying at night
  • praying on my knees
  • praying out loud
  • journaling my prayers

I wouldn't admit it out loud, but I believed deep down if I said the right things, at the right time, in the right way, that God could be swayed.

I’m right in the middle of this sanctifying, exasperating, exhilarating job of raising children.

I don’t quite qualify as a Titus 2 “older woman,” so I’m not going to tell you what you’re doing wrong (smile).

But now that I’m past the preschool years and diving into the teens, I’m seeing some fruit of my early-motherhood days...

The good and the bad.

As I think out loud about what I wish I could adjust, I pray you’ll find encouragement. And if the Holy Spirit nudges you to make any changes... well, my advice is listen, so you can look back on these years with joy rather than regret.

The first change I'd make?