We have a new, somewhat unusual, sibling competition going on at our house at dinner time. The boys fight over whose turn it is pray.
It doesn’t matter which one we ask, the other one always declares, “No fair! I want to pray!”
I suppose there are worse things our children could fight over besides who gets to talk to God.
So now we have two prayers at dinner time. Supper has turned into a prayer meeting.
Sometimes we take the charismatic approach, and David and Wade both say their separate prayers out-loud at the same time. This is usually when Dave and I are starving, and we want to hurry things along.
Other nights it’s a more standard Baptist approach with each of them taking separate turns praying as the rest of us politely listen. Often on these nights there’s a little hand raising. As in the child who is not praying is raising a hand full of food to their mouth.
Prayer is a natural part of the boy’s lives, because we introduced it to them from birth. Even before they could talk we prayed out-loud over them at bedtime. And of course they heard us pray at meal time. Although I can’t recall arguing with my husband over whose turn it was.
For the longest time David was a master of efficiency when it came to bedtime prayers.
Please take care of everyone in my family and the strangers.
In Jesus Name,
“The strangers” covered the whole world in prayer for any and all possible unknown prayer requests.
Then there was the week David was Catholic. When he was three we found an injured baby rabbit in the yard. The poor little thing didn’t survive, and he spent the next week praying that it would go to heaven. Apparently David thought the rabbit was stuck in some sort of bunny purgatory.
Now that he’s older David’s started naming individuals and specific items. The list is proportional to the amount of time he wants to delay bedtime.
Four-year-old Wade is more of a free spirit than David, and his approach to prayer is even more creative. He really takes the personal relationship with Jesus to heart. Most of his prayers are more like conversations.
Today I road my bike. And mommy let me have cookies. And I like to watch Thomas the Train. Jesus can you fly like Iron Man? Thank you for this day.
In Jesus name,
It really never occurred to me to just tell Jesus about my day. I kind of figured he already knew. You know, that whole omnipotent thing and all. But maybe Wade is on to something. Small talk is probably a nice change of pace from the usual “I want this” and “I want that” filling most of our prayers.
One of the sweetest moments came one night last winter when Wade ended his bedtime prayer with, “And Jesus? We REALLY like you.”
Do you think Jesus felt like Sally Field?
We do like you Jesus. We really do.