I pray sometimes when I workout.
I know I must look funny, sitting there at the gym on the exercise bike with my eyes closed, but that time—with my body moving and my mind turning to God—is my lifeline some days. It’s my 60-minute-recharge.
As a busy mom, it’s hard to carve out time every day to pray–to talk to God and to listen to His voice. Some days, I get up and hit the floor running… making breakfast, packing lunches, helping everyone get ready, and then rushing (late) out the door to carpool kids to school. On those days especially, taking time to pray is exactly what I need.
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“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” Matthew 6:27 NIV
For the fifth time in an hour, I leaned over my newborn daughter’s bassinet and checked to make sure she was okay. Thoughts of SIDS and fears of her getting tangled in her blanket filled my head. I held my breath and watched her tiny chest rise and fall. Only after I was sure she was okay did I lie back down and try to get some sleep.
Those first few nights of motherhood—months, actually—were like that. When my daughter didn’t wake me up because she was hungry, I woke myself up to make sure she was okay.
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I tiptoe into my daughter’s room to check if she’s asleep. It’s been a long week and she’s had a lot on her plate. Twelve years old can be a tough age, I’m learning. There are new experiences, new decisions, new situations.
Quietly, I stand next to her bed and look at her–my little girl, asleep, her head resting sideways on her pillow.
My little girl who is not so little anymore.
I sigh, thinking about the high expectations she has of herself and how she tends to worry. I know I was the same way growing up–I still am sometimes.
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“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.” – Zechariah 4:10 NLT
I walked down the hall into my daughter’s room only to find her entire toy box and dollhouse emptied onto the floor. She looked up and smiled.
She’d just gotten to the age where I could let her play in her room by herself while I grabbed a few minutes to get things done around the house.
So why was I groaning about the mess instead of being glad at how she’d occupied herself having fun?
As a mom, the new phases our kids grow into can sometimes mean things getting harder–not easier–for a while.
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**Please welcome Esther Feng of For Such a Time as This who is guest posting here today.
Praying Moms
by Esther Feng
As moms, we pray for our kids. We pray in the car, we pray while we’re changing diapers, we pray over sleeping babies.
Some days, we’ve used every parenting tool in our tool belt and there’s nothing more to do but ask for some divine intervention. We pray when the big issues of life stretch us beyond what we can bear. We’d give anything for tangible assurance that God is listening to us.
But, there are lonely times when there’s no evidence that God hears our prayers.
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** Please welcome Sharon at [email protected], who is guest posting here today.
Because of My Story
by Sharon
My husband has often said, “I wish I had a testimony–a story–like yours.”
And I’ve said back to him, “I would rather to have had a family like yours and no testimony to share.”
When I was five years old, my dad left me and my sisters. When he did, our mother left us emotionally. Their divorce was devastating and from then on, emptiness and questions would follow me all the way into my adult years.
I heard a speaker once say, “Instead of writing off our past, or discounting it, we should authenticate the role it has played in our life.”
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Are you worrying about something right now?
One of my favorite verses in the Bible is Matthew 25:6-34…
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”
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My son had his ninth birthday a couple weeks ago.
After he left for school that day, I went to the store, got him a balloon as a surprise and a couple dozen donuts to share with his class.
When I showed up in his classroom, he beamed. His teacher helped him to clip the balloon to his desk and his classmates oohed and aahed at the donuts. I could tell he was surprised and happy.
About two hours later, as I was out running errands, I got an email on my phone from his teacher…
“Your son can’t stop smiling.
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