This morning my daughter took the field with a new soccer team. We have made many such changes over the years. New teams. New schools. New friends. Change is our norm. In fact, change seems the only reliable thing. And that can be exhausting.
But each time she launches I hope. Today, I await the first very early pre-season tournament game from the shelter and quiet of my SUV. To that let me add that it has started to sprinkle. Ah, in the movies, rain always means change. From my back seat position I close my eyes to pray, but I am not sure what to say to the Lord about this. What is the “right” prayer?
I can’t make the team right for her.
I can’t give her the right attitude or the right skills.
I can’t give her friendships with teammates or relationships with coaches.
All these I would like to give her, but they are not mine to give. And, at the moment, they don’t even seem the right things to ask for in prayer. I am not a player in that game. At nearly 16 my daughter must take charge of this asking. God’ll speak to her about this, not to me.
So I sit, full of incomplete prayer sentences. A fill in the blank sort of prayer experience. “Lord, provide the opportunity for me to …” To what?
I shorten this to, “Lord…opportunity.” And it seems a very much better way to pray. I thank the Holy Spirit who is my Holy Translator.
May I enter this day with newly opened eyes and a wider vision. I’m expecting. Perhaps that’s what pregnancy is meant to teach us mothers. Nine months of learning what it means to wait for the miracle to come. And to keep coming.
“Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” ~ Hebrew 11:1