Learning to Pray for My Little People

My confusion hasn’t kept me from praying. But my prayers seem to always have a question mark at the end, as if to say, is that what I’m supposed to pray, Lord? 

The Holy Spirit helps me in my weakness. He takes my feeble attempt, makes sense out of it, and delivers it straight to the Father, as if to say, this is what she meant, Lord.

Still, that doesn’t excuse me from working to improve my prayer life. And so, here I stand, on this journey of perfecting my prayers for little people. Not because God won’t hear if they’re not perfect, but because the more perfect I make them, the more my mind and heart want what God wants. 

The other day, I walked away from my prayer time thinking I’d never be the prayer warrior I want to be. But I did have a sense that I had fought a battle – a battle that Christ had already won, was currently winning, and would ultimately win. 

Maybe that’s what prayer is all about. Just a realization that I have to fight, but that the battle is already won. Not either/or. But both/and. 

I flipped the radio station on and over the waves, I heard a man talking about the joys and challenges of grandparenthood. I identified with everything he and his wife were saying. But then the real kicker. As the program came to a close, the radio host asked the grandmother to pray, as she would for her own grandchildren. I thought, Oh goodie. Yes, please model this for me so I can improve and be the best pray-er possible for Jack, Auggie, Todd, and now Everlee. 

She did, and I sat in my car amazed at how God was reassuring me that my prayers were on the right track. Ten minutes before I got in the car, I prayed for the EXACT things this godly woman was praying for her own grandchildren. I worded things differently, but the basic requests were the same. 

Was it God’s way of telling me what a great Christian “Marmee” I am? No. But it was His way of reassuring me my thinking is right. My prayers were not vain, repetitious, gobbledygook. And they were received by the Father, for the kids’ good and His glory. 

Her prayer was relatively simple. But also deep and heartfelt. It was a prayer that ultimately stated that she wanted the same things God did. And that’s the key, I think. To pray, knowing that God loves those kids infinitely more than I ever could. To pray, bowing my heart to His will for them. To pray, using Scripture that applies to their specific sin problems. To pray, asking God to transform their hearts from hearts of stone to hearts of flesh. 

It’s easier with Jack and Auggie and Todd. At ages sixteen months to three years, it’s becoming obvious what some of their issues are. But what about Everlee? She’s a week old. I don’t know the little peanut. The only thing I know about her so far is that she’s pretty, has lots of hair, and smells so good it’s tough to keep my hands off of her. What to pray?

I could pray that she sleeps so her Mama has the energy to care for her and her brothers. And I do. But that is small talk. So I go deeper. I go to Scripture that states what every heart needs, and I pray for those things, and I do so because the Bible also tells me every heart is only evil continually. 

It’s hard to believe that someone so perfect on the outside is so bent toward evil on the inside. 

I pray that, too. 

And now that I’ve been encouraged that other godly grandparents are praying in the same manner, I’m going to keep on. I want to be the best praying granny out there. And if my dishes go unwashed and my garden grows weeds, then so be it. I sense the battle more than ever, and I refuse to let these kids travel through life without being adequately slathered in prayer. 

The culture they live in demands it. The Devil after their souls demands it. And their fleshly desires demand it.