An old, faded brown couch occupied the front room, its worn surface squashed and wrinkled from years of use. Every Monday morning, at 8:30 am, three women gathered on that couch. Collectively, they had five children among them.
Some of the children were in school, while others joined their mothers.
These women shared scripture verses and offered prayers for each other's children for the next hour and a half. These prayers weren't elaborate or filled with fancy words; instead, they were simple, vulnerable, and often filled with the anxieties and worries of young mothers unsure of what to pray for but offering their hearts, nonetheless.
These women had a unique bond. They prayed for the difficult and sometimes unspoken challenges that are hard to share, even with family. Sometimes, it's easier to express life's painful and challenging aspects with those who may not know you well."
They echoed and encouraged each other, praying for needs such as the fear a little girl had of the toilet flushing in the school, a young man with a tendency to lie, a sullen teen, and the child who only ate peanut butter on wheat. They did not always know what to pray for, nor did they have the words, but they still gathered. Somedays, there were tears, tears of anxiety, worry, and sometimes even laughter at the needs.
You see, prayer has a funny way of disarming us humans. We spend most of life trying to get it together, to have some form of control or the illusion of control. We convince ourselves that if we do it hard enough, we can control the things that matter to us. Then, we spend the rest of our time giving ourselves plenty of grace for the things that "we say" and "don't matter much."
But that is also an illusion. Because if you are anything like me, control matters- control over everything. So, when you pray for yourself, your child, and someone else's child, you find yourself thrown off the path of control. It is hard to pray selfish prayers in front of someone else, but that is where we can be vulnerable.
And that is what these women did. They prayed for the ugly, the hard stuff you cannot always share, even with family. Sometimes, it's easier to share the painful and ugly things with those who do not know you well.
We all need people like that in our lives. People are willing to pray for us. These people don't need to be our best friends. They are our prayer warriors.
These mothers persisted in prayer for over a decade, even when they did not always see answers. The funny thing about prayer is that it releases something inside of you as a form of surrender to God.
You give up control. It is practicing being in the presence of God and choosing to surrender with a sweet sense of relief.
As a mother, I have learnt that I don't need to have all the answers or know what's coming around the corner. I need to surrender in prayer.
Yet, as life unfolded, the weekly gatherings slowed down. The children grew, and diverse life seasons called each mother in separate directions. The once-common threads began to loosen, and the weekly rituals found a natural conclusion.
Still, the prayers persisted, albeit through modern forms of communication. Messages flowed from one another about grown children navigating young adulthood, education, and relationships.
I was one of those mothers. I sit today at a table, facing the room where the old brown couch once was. I am reminded of stressful Monday mornings and eventful weeknight evenings spent coaxing music from the ivory keys. I am reminded of tears, arguments, and yells.
Those weekly prayers, a ritual of renewal, provided a sanctuary for me. A place where my burdens were laid bare, shared, and carried collectively. The rhythm of shared struggles and encouragement bonded these women through the challenging seasons of parenting.
A recent message from my son turned into a poignant moment for me, sending me down memory lane to the old brown couch.
He played the piano on a worship team recently and shared his joy. Years of prayers and tears culminated in a crescendo of joy and gratitude to a Heavenly Father. The prayers now seem a distant memory, but the music is a vivid reality.
Time has woven its tapestry, and looking back, some prayers seemed trivial, but to our God, nothing is insignificant. Each tear, each prayer, heard and remembered, finds its purpose in His grand design.
So, to every young mother navigating the labyrinth of challenges, overwhelmed, and needing release, the encouragement is the same: Pray. Engage in short and poignant breath prayers. Call out to God, for He hears, sees, knows, and listens. In His time, answers unfold according to His sovereign will.
These mothers laboured in prayer for years, walking through the mundane challenges of life to constantly find the sacred every day. As our lives moved on, the echoes of those shared moments still linger – a testament to the enduring power of prayer and collective surrender.
It's been a while since I wrote anything, so if you are reading this, Thank you! The season has been challenging, so I appreciate you taking the time to read.
So, while I have been working on some writing, I have also been taking time to do some much-needed soul care. I have needed to slow down, think, spend time with God, and catch up on my reading.
Here are the books I am reading this month. I have been trying to balance a lot of my non-fiction reading with some fiction this year.
The Remarkable Ordinary: How to Stop, Look, and Listen to Life by Frederick Buechner
Psalms in 30 Days: CSB Edition, Black Letter, Daily Readings, Prayer
The Book of Lost Names by Kristin Harmel
Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus
Maybe one of these books catches your eye! Let me know what you guys are reading this year!
Photo by Paul Weaver on Unsplash