I'm praying on the Saturday morning over the weekend as I'm flipping pancakes and sounds of distant hollering and squealing travel up the stairs. Sounds of children wildly playing as they await our traditional Saturday morning breakfast - only this morning in the absence of their dad.
I'm praying for their dad, as he is a couple of miles down the road receiving the message of Eric Ludy - a message about what it takes to be a bravehearted man, a man on the front lines of our faith.
And I think about our children and pray for Robby, our seven-year-old, and I try to articulate how deep my desire is for him to grow to be that man. And in my prayer, that I cannot find adequate words for, I catch myself saying, "Lord, you have no id--e--a..."
I chuckle at my words.
"Lord, you have an idea. Not only do you have an idea, you have given me these very ideas. You are the one who has placed these desires deep within my heart. You are the one with the very plan etched out for each of my children's lives and missions. I trust you, Lord."
How easy it is for me to forget, even in my most earnest prayers, that He already has us covered far beyond any emerging desires, inspirations, or realizations...
The children come scrambling up the stairs and help put plates, forks, syrup and sausage on the table. There is chaos in the comings and goings, and I cannot know for certain how this chaos will shake out. Yet there is a peace within it. Somehow I believe there is a master plan in the comings and goings of the lives before me.
And sometimes prayer that feels completely inadequate is just what I need to acknowledge God for who he is... bigger than my words, my worries, my desires and my dreams. And sometimes it's the simplest of our prayers that just might move mountains.