You know that I am an awful pray-er. That it’s a constant stream of conscious jumble of thanksgiving and desperation. That I am easily distracted by birds and accidents and grocery lists. I yell frantically to You while chasing a 3 year-old out of the street and speak softly to You as a 5 month-old falls to sleep in my arms.
I am so thankful You hear me, however I pray.
I wonder, amidst all the world’s legitimate pain, if You have heard my pleas for Rylie? Have You heard me sobbing for my child’s voice… locked inside her? Have You heard me angry, asking You which school to choose and which bus to take and which specialist to demand? Have You heard me begging for peace in her heart when she cannot sound off her own frustration?
I forget that You see farther than I see… that the end, for You, is in sight and the Greater Story complete.
Have You heard me cheering for her? Cheering for the way You have pulled dark gray around her eyes? Cheering for the sweet way she grabs a new friend’s hand? Cheering for the understanding on her face when she signs ‘I’m sorry’?
Have You heard my rejoicing for Gideon? My child, whom You have blessed with a healthy appetite? Whom You you have given a new gift of calm? Whom You have taught how to fall asleep alone? Have You heard my deep breaths after all these months of insanity?
Thank You for these miracles, however great or small. They are not lost on me.
Have You heard me cry for myself? In pity? In shame? In denial of having a child with special needs? In defiance of having a child with leg braces? Have You heard me arrogantly say it’s not fair? Have You seen me cut corners and be lazy and take for granted the resources You’ve laid out before me?
I am so sorry. I could explain that I am weak. That I am tired. That I am scared. But, these are things You already know and forgive daily.
Please give me strength for another letter to insurance, for one more game of chase, for another week’s worth of night-time feedings. Please give me a song to sing when I have no words. Please give me chance to help someone else, that I could show them the grace You have shown me. Help me to be slow to anger. To be grateful. To be kind.
If You’re reading this up there, thank You. For all the things I’ve said and for all the things I’ve forgotten and for all the things I’m too shy to say… thank You for hearing me, however I pray.