The Little Things

‘They won’t remember it.’

‘They’re too little, they don’t notice.’

And to that, I whole-heartedly disagree. My child is two and a half, and I strongly argue that the things we are doing with him and for him now will either set him up for great success or great failure. The good calls, bad calls, and even the ugly ones – they all mean something.

I know that he understands more than he probably lets on. Tonight he proved that to me.

We were praying before his bedtime, as we do every single night. Until now, he appeared to lack any sort of understanding; probably thinking, ‘Mama just can’t stop talking, even before I go to bed. But why are her eyes closed?’

But tonight, he prayed with me too.

He has struggled with speech since he started, due to a tongue tie that he was born with and has since been clipped. It caused him to work at a bit of a slower pace in terms of speaking at all, and the harshness of some enunciations that come along with it.

But tonight, I heard him loud and clear:

‘Amen.’

I know that God heard him, too.

He never makes a peep during our prayers. He always just tucks into my shoulder as I hold him and rock him for the never-long-enough moments that we are able to do this together.

But tonight, he mumbled his own little prayer along with me.

That ‘little’ prayer brings forth great implications. It means that while he may not yet have the capacity to fully understand God and who He is, he knows that we talk to our ‘Dear Heavenly Father’ every single night, and end our chats with a heartfelt ‘Amen.’

It means that I’ve been doing something right.

But that first prayer wasn’t all. Once we say that first prayer, I tuck him into his bed with his favorite blankie that I made him when he was still in my belly, and we pray one last time:

“Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep;

Angels watch me through the night,

‘Til I wake in morning light.

Amen.”

As I pray over him the prayer that my mother used to pray over me, I’m reminded that motherhood is so precious, in both the good and hard times, and it means so much more than we will ever imagine.

To this day, I think fondly on those nights with my mother, where she tucked me in, prayed with me, and kissed my forehead goodnight; just as she always did. Because she was always there. That fond remembrance, and the fact that I know Christ, means that she did something right too.

Something that she may have thought to be a little, relatively insignificant part of my childhood meant more to me than she’ll probably ever know – and inspired this routine that now my son and I hold so dear.

In most women’s walk in motherhood, they often feel as if they can’t get anything right. And most of the time, we can’t. But we almost always give it our very, very best.

I fall short on a lot of things as a parent, but this is one thing I never miss because it is just that precious to me. My husband and I used to alternate nights of who would actually put him to bed and do the nighttime routine. But now, I selfishly (and unabashedly) take it upon myself to do it every single night.

Since we were blessed with a son, I’m no stranger to the notion that one day soon, his Daddy will surely become his favorite person. I did choose a wonderful man, after all. He has so much to offer our son, so much to teach him and do with him; so many camping trips and dirty, fun boy-centered things that I will kindly decline to be a part of in favor of a cozy night in with my Bible. So for now, I intend to keep soaking up these beautiful moments that we have together.

I often think about how in a year or so from now, I won’t be able to hold him like that anymore. If I’m being fully honest, it’s already getting quite hard to do, so I am grateful for every single night.

Just as I will continue to be grateful for every opportunity that I am blessed with to have a lasting, impactful, and hopefully God-centered impression on my son’s beautiful life.

Every single day, after every win or mistake – there is a God-given opportunity to just keep trying with every breath. Motherhood is often an uphill battle that can appear to be an impossible task, but please know this:

If you have a child that you are immensely proud of all the way down to your soul, then you should take great joy in knowing that you did something right. In fact, you’ve probably done more than a few things right; especially if you’ve kept God at the center of it all.

Even when the days are hard, the yelling is loud, and the messes are big, there will never be anything greater than knowing that you played such a pivotal part in your child’s life. It is truly the little things that can make the greatest impact.

I now have two generations of proof that something as seemingly small as a prayer with your child every night can leave a beautiful, blessed imprint that can last for generations to follow.

If you’re a mom: thank you. If you have a mom, thank her.

If you’re my mom: I love you, and am grateful for you more than you know.

Until next week,

— E. Byers, author of The Grassy Laine