When I was younger I knew that at a certain time in the evening I would find my mother in her bedroom, usually reading. I would come in and sit on her bed to chat. I have four younger sisters, and often we would end our evening together, on moms bed. We knew without a doubt that there was always an open invitation to us. So many conversations and memories in my mothers room. Visually this is what you would see. My mother sitting up with a book in her hands. Laying next to her would always be her bible, a pen, calendar or diary, and the cordless phone. Those items were always there, but when her daughters came in they were moved out of the way in a hurry.
Without a doubt I could go to my mothers house today, and the same items would be there. As if time has stopped. I also know she would move them without a moments hesitation for me to sit.
Let me tell you what you can't see in that room. The tears that have been spilled. Over mistakes we made, or broken teenage hearts. The patience of a mother. Patiently listening to all her daughters sharing long stories when all she craved was quiet. Forgiveness. When we came in with our regret and pain at choices we made, she never shamed or condemned us. The grace that she gave us to realize we weren't perfect, and she never expected us to be.
Sometimes I think of prayer as coming to God, and sitting on His bed. Telling Him about our days. Finding patience, forgiveness, and grace to meet us. I am very blessed that I was raised by a mother who is a strong Christian woman, and fierce prayer warrior. Not all of us get that on earth, but we have it with our Heavenly Father. So talk to the Lord today, wont you sit on His bed? There is always an open invitation.
Without a doubt I could go to my mothers house today, and the same items would be there. As if time has stopped. I also know she would move them without a moments hesitation for me to sit.
Let me tell you what you can't see in that room. The tears that have been spilled. Over mistakes we made, or broken teenage hearts. The patience of a mother. Patiently listening to all her daughters sharing long stories when all she craved was quiet. Forgiveness. When we came in with our regret and pain at choices we made, she never shamed or condemned us. The grace that she gave us to realize we weren't perfect, and she never expected us to be.
Sometimes I think of prayer as coming to God, and sitting on His bed. Telling Him about our days. Finding patience, forgiveness, and grace to meet us. I am very blessed that I was raised by a mother who is a strong Christian woman, and fierce prayer warrior. Not all of us get that on earth, but we have it with our Heavenly Father. So talk to the Lord today, wont you sit on His bed? There is always an open invitation.
