Stream of Prayer

It’s a four-load laundry day, and two big projects call my name.

My 32 oz. green water bottle is filled, and I’m ready to work, but last night’s bedtime is on my mind.

I can’t stay here long. Can’t we just sit together a moment?

How do I answer the 6-year-old’s questions about Your face and Your heaven?

“Does ‘I don’t know’ mean No, Mama?” she asks also. “No. It’s okay to not know,” I answer, believing myself.

I’m so grateful for her questions because she makes me think of You.

She asks me about Your face, and I can’t answer.

But, somehow I see Your gentle eyes, and I speak words of wonderful.

She is on the brink of something here, but she is so young.

I ask her if she loves You. She grins big, and says, “Yes, Mama.”

I smile too, and I hum to her how much You love her.

I tuck her in, and she sighs and turns with Teddy under her arm.

I wonder if I will ever be grateful enough for these moments.

Slow. Thanks. Always.

In Christ, Amen.


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