We
pray with our kids every night. We started it with our oldest when he was
a toddler, and now his little sister is along for the ride as part of the
bedtime routine. I will admit to sometimes letting “routine” get the best
of me, willing us to push through the tooth brushing and prayers efficiently so
I can just sit down in peace (or empty the dishwasher, or get some work done,
or, or, or…). When I get wrapped into the mechanics, it’s easy to
question what the kids are even getting out of it. Some nights they have
really insightful requests, and some nights their attention is distracted by
other things. I can relate to that in my own prayer life, and they are
probably more faithful than I am some days, but still, we go through the
motions.
As
a small aside, my daughter is two, which in my experience is the height of
cuteness. She is quite the chatty chica at this age, and she often mispronounces
the actual words for things (for example, Farmers’ Market = Fire’s Marker in
our house). She makes sentences, but not always with proper
grammar. It absolutely melts my heart to watch the concentration on her
face as she tries to express the things she wants to convey so desperately
using her toddler grasp of the English language. She’ll spit out a word,
realizing it’s not quite right, then try over and over again to correct herself
with variations of something that’s just soooo close.
Typically
we sit down as a family in our son’s bedroom at night and do our prayers
together. We will each share something that made us happy that day,
something that made us sad, and one other person we’d like to pray for.
This format seems to work well since it’s straightforward and makes it easy for
the kids to participate. Usually my husband, my son, or myself will close
in prayer once all requests have been made, thanking God for the things that
have made us happy, praying for comfort when things make us sad, and lifting
others up who need some extra love. On a recent evening when we had barely
finished offering our requests, our daughter took it upon herself to lead us in
prayer. She folded her little hands, squeezed her eyes shut, and strung
together the most precious collection of words I have ever heard in my
life. Included in the mix were sunshine, choo choos, and a couple of her
friends. She also wove in the name of a friend of mine who we’ve been
praying for lately as she faces some difficult health challenges. And of
course, she said my friend’s name in perfect toddler fashion, mispronouncing it
so beautifully and innocently.
My
husband and I glanced at each other with the silent “awwww” that you share when
your child has done something that solidifies your opinion of them being the
most amazing being on earth. Although our daughter didn’t make complete
sentences, it was a perfect prayer. She joyfully mentioned things that
make her happy, and remembered those who are hurting. Even though it may
have sounded like a random collection of words to someone else, I knew exactly
what she meant. When she said “sunshine,” I smiled knowingly, reflecting
on the delight that is evident when we’re playing outside. And although
she only said my friend’s name and nothing more about the situation, it
resonated with the pain I feel in my own heart as I know the healing needed
there.
God
often uses these moments to remind me that he gets me, too. As much as I
understand and love my own children, I know that pales in comparison to the
love the Father has for me. He knew me before I was born and has numbered
the hairs on my head, so certainly he understands what brings me joy and what
burdens my soul. Prayers do not need to be offered kneeling on the floor,
with 20 minutes set aside for a well-constructed monologue. Prayer can be
continuous communication with God, acknowledging His presence and feeling deep
gratitude for the ways I am blessed. When I smile at a sunrise, or marvel
at my kids as they learn something new, I know He feels my joy, and those
expressions of gratitude draw me nearer. Or, when the tears come and all
I can do is whisper the name of a friend in need, I can feel Him say, “I know,
my daughter. I know.”
I’m reminded of some wise words from Anne of Green Gables,
which was a childhood favorite of mine.
Regarding prayer, Anne in her infinite wisdom says, “Why must people
kneel down to pray? If I really wanted
to pray I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d
go out into a great big field all alone or in the deep, deep woods and I’d look
up into the sky – up – up – up – into that lovely blue sky that looks as if
there was no end to its blueness. And
then I’d just feel a prayer.”
Let’s offer our prayers, in complete sentences or fragments
of words, spoken or silent, in nature, in our homes, in gratitude or
desperation, in tears, or perhaps just through feeling, and trust that our Father
understands.
