A Child’s Prayer of Faith

A couple of months ago, my daughter was playing out in the yard when she overheard the boy next door “say something bad.” She came to me and was visibly upset, but she would not say what she had heard. After some gentle wheedling, she would tell me as much as that he had taken the Lord’s name in vain. We talked about it from a variety of angles. “Not everyone shares our faith,” I told her, and that bled in to talking about other denominations, other faiths, and those who choose to live apart from faith.

Rather than soothe her, this really seemed to make it worse. She proceeded to draw a picture of Jesus on the dry-erase board. He was frowning. To say that my heart broke would not begin to cover it. I wanted to comfort her, to open my mouth to the torrent of words that I hoped would wrap her up and salve her heart. Just as I drew breath to speak them, I realized, suddenly, that it was not my comfort that she needed at all.

I asked her if she wanted to pray.

With a gentle nod and teary eyes full of longing, she took my hands. Together we knelt on the kitchen floor, right there by the easel with the dry erase board and prayed. We prayed for the boy next door, and we prayed for Katy that she would be comforted. As we prayed, I felt my own heart ease and then swell with joy. What a blessed mother I am, to have a child of such a tender heart, a child of such faith. What a moment that was, kneeling on the floor holding her hands in mine.

When we opened our eyes, Kathryn was nothing short of beaming. She immediately turned to the dry erase board and set to with vigor. She drew herself down below the Savior in her picture, and went on to draw a series of hearts from hers to His. “It’s love from me to Jesus,” she said as she erased His frown.

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