Last weekend we were heading into the big city of Toronto. "This is urban," my eight-year-old son said (obviously a subject he'd learned in school). We were excited to take them so close to the CN Tower and the Roger Centre, and there was no cow in sight. "Ooooh," they said, and we pulled into the parking lot of Medieval Times. Great fun was about to happen.
Earlier that day I was hit with a huge dose of anxiety. My hands were shaking, and my back was getting tight. I went up to my room where I could be quiet and relax. My "what if's" were rambling around in my head and needed to silence them in order to enjoy myself on this first of many summer family trips.
I sat down on the floor to pray, and nosy Little Miss poked her head in.
"What'cha doing, mom?""I'm praying."
"What for?"
"For safety so mommy won't worry."
"Oh," she stepped back out of the room and after a few seconds came back in.
"Can I pray with you?" she asked.
"Of course."
She sat on the floor beside me and we prayed together, she repeating after me, and working so hard to do it right. There have been a few times where I am struck with how innocent and trusting my children's prayers are. They have no doubts. They don't question how God will answer their prayers, they just pray. No analyzing, just pure hearts seeking God. I know without a doubt that a child's pray is powerful, and cherished by God. If you want something done, ask a child to pray for it.
So she prayed, and I felt better.
Hours later we pulled into the Medieval Times parking lot in Toronto (about a 2 1/2 hour drive from home). We hopped out, found the sunscreen and water, and suddenly our son is putting his sunglasses on upside down. Seconds later, he faints.
I scoop him up, throw him in the back of the van and immediately fly into action. In a few minutes he was sitting up and talking. Little Miss holds a cold ice pack on his back and says, "Well, we never prayed for this, did we mom!"
No, I suppose we didn't. But I was calm and collected as I dealt with the drama, which I may not have been had we not prayed for our day.
Mr. Man arrived, panting, with large pieces of pizza to fill our son's empty tummy as Little Miss shouts out, "It's your turn to faint now, daddy!"
We laugh, and when her big brother says, "at least I didn't pee my pants," we knew he was all right.
By the way, Medieval Times is awesome!
