My Prayer Warrior
On Mother’s Day morning we witnessed the baptism of our baby granddaughter in a wonderful service filled with praise and worship. Though I believe every new life is a miracle, we waited a long time for this baby girl since my daughter-in-law was told she would not be able to have children. It was a very special morning for our family.
Later that afternoon, I received a call from my sister telling me that my ninety-seven-year-old mother would soon be entering heaven. I was a few states away and quickly booked a flight to my hometown. My mom’s funeral was a beautiful celebration of her life which was defined by unconditional love. It didn’t matter if her children, grandkids, and great grandkids were born into the family, married into the family, “stepped” into the family, or were adopted into the family, she loved us all the same.
One of my nephews summed up her life in one sentence: My grandma prayed for her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren by name every day. Even when she could not walk on her own, or take care of her personal needs, she still had purpose because she prayed for three generations of family members. By name. Every day.
I am grateful for the legacy of prayer my mother left for the rest of us to emulate. We lost a prayer warroir, but the next generation can take her place on the front lines.
Crystal