Too busy to pray


I consider myself a solid 10/10 on the scaredy cat scale. (a technical term, folks). THAT MAN IS FOLLOWING ME!!! My tires screech as I circle the block a few times to “lose” him…only to find him around the corner…walking up to HIS house where his wife and kids greeted him. Hm, well better safe than sorry, right?! 

Fear, it’s an ugly and beautiful thing. It creeps in, little by little, inching in and penetrating my mind and heart, stunting me in growth. Keeping me from a life of freedom and a slave to seeking a risk free, indoor, no thank you that’s not safe life. It’s right when it’s a healthy fear, a mama’s intuition, the absolute awe and fearing of our savior, but when it robs freedom, it must be addressed.

As some of you know, our home was robbed a few years back and this (as you can imagine) only expedited my fear into a card carrying frightened little church mouse.

I think back to the days when my best friend and I partnered with an organization that fed the homeless of Skid Row every Sunday night from 10pm-2am. We grouped in 4’s and strolled the siren filled, unpredictable, dark streets.

Yes, that was before I was a mama (which I believe creates some crazy mother-hen protective nerves, since your basically in charge of little lives who don’t know the street is NOT a good place to throw a tantrum). Something, though, was different about those nights in college. Before we headed out to check on the homeless that quickly became our friends, we prayed. Sometimes we prayed for an hour, other times a few minutes. We begged God to be involved and for the eyes to see it.

“Lord, protect us as we love the enemies of the world. Show us opportunities and give us words. Guide us, breathe through us. Your strength, not ours.”

Sometimes I go days without truly praying. While I have a list of excuses, and legit ones, about why I don’t pray…

Dear God, (poopy diaper change x2), I am thankful for (what, Reese?! Mama is busy talking to..nevermind..I’ll do this later..) You get the idea.

Unfortunately, Skid Row won’t be seeing me anytime soon, I miss it so; we are still at battle. A spiritual battle where my mind and heart can be attacked at any and every moment. In battle, we need protection and there MUST be time for it. It seems absolutely foolish to walk the streets of Skid Row without saturating in prayer first. Why does it feel okay not to pray for this just as important job of being a momma?!

Dear Lord, protect us as we go today. Open our eyes to see people the way YOU do. Let love be the heartbeat of our lives. Forgiveness, gratitude and generosity lived out in the minute to minute chaos. Grace. Let us embrace the grace we have received and show it to others. Help me rely on you as I show my kids to do the same. I will fail, you are our strength. Breathe light in our home as we desire to worship you in all we do. 

There it is. Whose with me? As we prepare for battle, may we be united with our maker by simply talking to him by simple talking to him via the fancy and often misunderstood term, prayer.

(This post inspired by a conversation between a fellow mama and myself. I admitted to her that sometimes I don’t pray and I often have a hard time believing it will truly make a difference. Our convo inspired me to just start praying again, hoping this blog post may do the same for some of you.)

Love to each of you.