An honest motherhood prayer.

Lord, Right here. While I pull out the grapes I found shoved into the couch cushions. And then run to grab someone off the trampoline. As I peel the crust off the sandwich. And carefully place the bandaid where there is only a microscopic dot of blood. Right here. When I'm tired and poured out. When I'm content and filled with gratitude. When I sneak to the bathroom for a moment of quiet to fill back up. Right here. As I whisper prayers of protection and sweep their sweaty hair off their sleepy brow. As I pick up another dirty sock in the middle of the floor. And answer the same question for the 16th time today. Right here. As it all seems so ordinary. And yet, I remind myself- this is holy ground. Will you help me see you? Will you help me find your presence among the piles of diapers and the tote bin of socks that will never get matched? Will you help me see your goodness as I search for the yellow plate for my three year old and my coffee gets kicked over? Will you help me remember this is my ministry of motherhood in the middle of the night as I groggily walk to grab the glass of water and in the morning when they reach up to wake me before the sun rises? Will you hear my everyday hallelujah as worship when it looks like dancing to baby shark in the kitchen and scouring the house for the pacifier? Will you help me steward these days, these hours, these minutes of loving them well? Will you give me everything I need to raise them up to know your wildly relentless love for them and the radical love you have for people? I need you. Your grace. Your strength. Your gentleness. Your patience. Your love to pour into me so it can spill into them. I don't want to do it without you. Amen.