Prayers for my kids

When our kids began to reach school-age, we were living abroad. It was a country famous for polar opposites: a people of generosity and strong relationships, constantly threatened by robberies, muggings and carjackings.  They welcomed us with open arms, yet every house stood locked behind walls and bars. 

The threat was real, and when my husband was eventually car-jacked, it was merely our entrance into their reality. But the danger deepened when it came to sending our oldest to school.  He carries an epi-pen for anaphylactic food allergies, and in this foreign school, his teachers had never seen an epi-pen before. 

My anxiety in this context surfaced rapidly, and “unsafe” was my mantra.  Nothing was safe - not the streets, our neighborhood, the people, their school, the food.  A long commentary on this season in my life could be written, but what I hope can be helpful for this moment are the prayers I learned to pray then and still pray now regarding our kids.  

These are cries that first came from a heart overwhelmed with panic, just trying to make it through the hours; they’re not prayers from a heart that had it all figured out. Every day back then, as I sent my oldest off to school, it was an act of faith, and every day he came home, it was a gift. 

And we’re reminded, dear parent, family member, and care-giver, that it still is. If you find yourself wrapped up in inescapable anxiety over your kids, may one of these simple prayers resonate with you.

A prayer for when I’m with my children: 

Help me love them fully in the moment, because it’s really all I have.

A prayer for when I’m not with my children:

Help me release control, because I have actually never had it.

A prayer for when I sense my limitations:

Help me remember that I am just mom; only You are God. Your love, understanding, and control exceed mine.

A prayer for perspective:

Stir up a longing in me for that place where tragedy never strikes.  Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

1 Kings 17:1-7

We all have experiences, interactions, and conversations which, unbeknownst to us, shape our trajectory early in life and become a regular source of our development over time. Whether positive or negative, each contributes to who we are and who we’re becoming. I grieve with you any early trauma, harsh words, or mistreatment, and I pray that those are being redeemed under the power of Jesus for your own beautiful and purposeful identity as God’s child. 

God’s work of using His Word in my heart began before I had a choice in the matter. I was born to first-time parents, Bob and Carla, in the early 80’s and given the pre-meditated name, Cherith.  Growing up, I knew I would never walk into a store and find a pencil or a keychain with my name on it, although I would always scan the C’s, just in case. 

But my parents made sure that I knew the backstory for Cherith, found in 1 Kings 17. Elijah the prophet had informed the wicked king Ahab that there would be no rain for three years, a terrible plight for an agrarian society.  God told Elijah to run for his life - probably from both the king and the famine - to the brook Cherith, where he could hide near a water source and be fed by ravens for a while.  

From this scene, my parents set a vision for me to be, what they defined as, “a provider of encouragement” like the brook Cherith in a desert season.  I didn’t know then what a gift they gave in speaking a purpose statement like that over me. I owe so much to them. As I grew older and fell in love with Hebrew, I learned that Cherith means cutting, a separation. Hmm. That doesn’t sound encouraging. 

Cuts 

Valleys

Ravines 

Crevices 

Gouges in rock

Deep slices in the earth

These are the places, broken and opened, where a source of water could be found in a time of famine.  

And so it is with encouragement: it flows best out of those parts of our lives that were once whole, then split in two. Out of these crevices, carved and scarred, God can miraculously sustain someone else if we’re willing to invite them to the riverbank. May your valleys shape you into a deep source of encouragement in another’s famine, even if you feel you're just a trickle of hope.

What friend, colleague, or child could you inspire with a vision for their life, like my parents did for me, by pointing out a truth that “has their name written all over it”?