Her eyes burned, the candles blurred and she buried her head in her hands.
Dear God, it's me, Jennifer. It's been a long time. Probably too long. If You don't remember me, I understand. But, I'm desperate. I've walked by this church a hundred times, but for some reason today I had to stop. Maybe You called me? Anyway ... I need help. It's my son. Ethan. The past months have been terrible. I fear he's headed down a path that will only lead to trouble. He's in a horrible, selfish mood; angry, yelling, demanding. He hasn't smiled in weeks. And now I'm not sleeping at night, making everything worse. What should I do? I'm completely at a loss. Please, Lord ... I'm exhausted. Thank You for hearing me, I guess ... amen.
Jennifer groped in her purse for a tissue and her compact. Checking her mascara, she glimpsed an old lady push open the heavy doors of the sanctuary and hobble inside. Jumping to her feet, Jennifer gathered her bag, hoping to slip away, but the elderly parishioner paused at the pew, her weathered face breaking into a smile.
"Adorable. How old is he?" her voice creaked.
"Eighteen months," Jennifer forced a smile. Gripping the stroller, she followed the old lady's gaze to her sleeping son.
"A beautiful gift," she said, grandmotherly. "Mothering is the hardest and most precious responsibility. God chose you for ..." her kind eyes found Jennifer's.
"Ethan," she offered, "His name is Ethan."
"Love him and pray for him. God cares for those with young; says so in Isaiah 40:11." She patted Jennifer's hand reassuringly before shuffling toward the altar.
In the bright light outside, Jennifer felt stronger. God had heard her.
|image courtesy of leo.jeje |
(via Flickr Creative Commons)
To all my young moms out there ... the most challenging job in the world and such a privilege, too. Exhausting beyond measure - but we are not alone in our mothering. God says so in Isaiah 40:11.
Linking up with Write at the Merge this week - inspired by the picture above.