I heard my mom praying tonight.
It’s my first night home since the beginning of January. What a wonderful, glorious, marvelous feeling it is to be home again. Where there’s no noisy upstairs neighbors. No sirens in the distance. Where the time of an old cuckoo clock can be heard ticking away. Tick tick tick. And the rumble of a train lulls in the distance. One dog stirs in his sleep making small little yip sounds like he’s chasing a deer. The other makes a grumble noise as he stretches himself in a better position to sleep.
My mom is praying for me.
As I was sitting on my laptop earlier looking at Pinterest and Facebook…she was sitting on her desk chair checking her emails. I started talking about what my plans were this summer, and some struggles of mine for the past school year. We’ve never really talked. Not like this. Oh sure, I babble about work. Or we talk about church and Bible scriptures…but we’ve never really talked. I was never particularly that close to my mom growing up. I wasn’t really close to anyone.
She’s praying for strength and healing.
Like I’ve said. I’ve struggled a lot this past school year. There are some monsters from my past that have a way of latching on to me and trying to drag me down. Drag me down with temptations and many emotional breakdowns. I can’t count how many times I’d lay in my bed at night wondering, “What am I supposed to be doing in life?” This past school semester I took 18 credits, a full course load. I don’t know how I have managed to pass my classes…I managed to get an “A” in four of my six classes. That’s crazy. Throughout the semester I felt like I was constantly trying to stay afloat with an anchor attached to my ankle… I’ve also had to deal with relationship issues and a breakup. And trying to balance a job, and my dedication to my church.
I know she prays for me more often than I’ll ask. And no doubt she prays for me more often than I’ll ever know.
But that’s what my mother does. She worries. She cries. She teaches. She loves. She prays.