God help us to know when to pull our girls in and hold them as they struggle with too many emotions and too many tears and not enough sleep. Help us know when to say no and when to guide their emotions to a better reaction, to a better response. Help us to know when to just hold them and when to train them.
Help me to know when to stop and play and when to finish the task of cleaning up refried beans off the rug.
Help me to know what it means to love and speak softly when little people appear at my bedside before I’ve even had a chance to stretch my neck from that weird sleeping position or put my contacts in. (Is is just me or is hard to even be human when you literally can’t even see yet, let alone respond with what breakfast will be.)
God help us when we look back to dwell on the good and happy memories, like the first time we kissed the fresh skin of our babies or embarked on one of our adventures, to see above all, your goodness. And if our minds do pass by the hard days, may we see vividly how faithful you were and not how flawed we (still) are.
God may we see the shift in season (even though it still feels like a mid summer Texas day here) as a new chapter, a fresh start, your mercy going before us.
God, may we be mindful of others: missionaries serving you (killing vipers on the walking trail…), and trying to make their mouths sound out sounds that are so foreign that they sound like toddlers learning to talk. They learn those new sounds and languages to one day share your truth with people. May we be mindful to pray for them, and not just ‘like’ their pictures and journeys on Facebook. May we be mindful of those dealing with chronic diseases. Help us be mindful of those who struggle every day in ways we can’t imagine. May we pray for them when they cross our minds.
God show us your goodness through light streaming in through arched doors, and through daughters with different eye colors, and through husbands who love us like we’ve never been loved before, and through friends who bring sidewalk chalk for the girls, and neighbors who drop off pistachio ice cream.
God, give us the ability to make the most of things: the friendships in our lives, the childhoods you’ve placed in our home, the conversations around the table, this very Tuesday morning.