I’m about to confess something…
We’ve only been praying at bedtime for about a month.
I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’m also happy that we’ve made it a part of our routine.
In the past, I’ve prayed with and for my kids when we’ve had rough times. I haven’t been perfect about turning to prayer, but Ive been known to on occasion.
Big has started seeking His guidance on her own! She lost a book given to her for her Kinder reading club. We’ve looked everywhere, except for where it is! After an hour of looking, she tells me, “I prayed to God to find it. I hope He does!”
Begin the lesson of God’s Perfect Timing.
Yesterday I let Big stay up from her Quiet Time. Normally, she gets an hour or two of peace in my room. She rarely sleeps, but it’s pretty evident when she doesn’t get that QT. Bed time is filled with drama. She cries at who physically puts her in bed. She cries because she’s lonely (nevermind that she shares a bunkbed with Middle). She cries because her music is too loud. She cries because her music is too soft. She cries because she doesn’t have her “Cry Bear” and the 40 other toys on her bed won’t suffice.
Now, Big is the last one we tuck in. By her bedtime, I’m done. My brain is melting from the day and I want to spend a little time on the couch watching Tosh.O and cringing at his crassness.
Last night, the drama started to get to me. I found myself getting frustrated and angry at Big’s loneliness and tears for what I felt was inconsequential.
Then she said the ONLY thing that would make me stop in my tracks.
“Mama, would you pray for me?”
It caught me so off guard that I just stood there, fists clenched, and breath heavy.
Then I put my anger aside, which took everything I had, and I asked her what she wanted me to pray for.
“My attitude”, she quietly tells me.
So I take a deep breath and hold her close. And I prayed. Outloud. For her. For me.
When I was done, she said “thanks. I hope it works, and I hope God finds my book.”
Ahhhh, 5-year olds…