Words of Faith: Bethany's story about prayer and a God who hears you

Wrapped Up in a Moment
A Words of Faith story by Bethany Kaczmarek

As a mother, I’m learning the importance of prayer. Certainly, I pray for my children—for myriad things: their salvation, their character, their compassion, their discernment and choices. Every parent knows how long that list could go on.

But I mean something different.

I’m learning—as a mother—how it is to be on the receiving end of so many requests. I am finite, and my hands are full. As a busy mom (I homeschool, teach, and work as an author and professional editor), there are moments when my little ones come to me with questions, and I am busy. I have to say, “Just a minute.”

Last week, my two-year-old reached for my face and turned my chin toward her. “You are my mommy,” she said, bright-eyed and hopeful. “And I have a kreshen.”

Everything stopped. I set my work aside, thankful for the gentle reminder of one of my most important roles. I knelt at her little feet, and I looked her in the eye. “What’s your question, Sweet?”

“I can have a granilla bar?” Little Girl actually batted her eyelashes at me. Precious.

I met her needs, kissed her on the head, and then I pulled down my grandmama’s old, worn Living Bible. The Holy Spirit put a verse in my mind, and I’ve always loved that translation of it the best.

Psalm 116:1-2: “I love the Lord because He hears my prayers and answers them. Because He bends down and listens, I will pray as long as I breathe.”

I remembered, all down and level with my littlest, how it feels to receive that kind of attention. So in focus and special. It’s worth more than the “granilla bar” itself.

Oh, how good it is to have a God that’s not too busy to bend down and listen. We’re never interrupting when we call out to Him. He’s busy, always at work around us, but He’s infinite.

Certainly, I have asked Him for simple blessings like my daughter asked of me. Most other translations say he turns his ear to me, or inclines his ear to me, and that image is enough in those moments. He hears me, He listens, He cares. But there are moments when—if I could just see Him face-to-face like those little children who came scrabbling up to Him as He taught their parents—I would feel so seen. So known. So precious.

In moments of utter grief and brokenness, in seasons of loneliness, in times of trial—he bends down and listens to me. He wraps me up in moments of Himself.

Right now, it’s the busyness that’s getting to me. I want to slow down, carve out space for a different life, a better pace. I want to stop and hold still and stare at Jesus with blinders on. Just Him and me.

I want to model that for my children, the holding still, the listening, the being. I’ll have to learn how to do it again myself. But oh, I know it’ll be worth it.

Because the minute that I ask for help with it, you know what Jesus will do?

Bend down and listen.

And right then, I’ll be reminded that it’s possible to lose yourself in a moment with someone. To have complete confidence that you are seen and known and heard. He’ll tell me to breathe. I’ll remember that He’s the One who gives me life and breath. And as long as I have it, I want it all to be for Him. He is enough.

He.

Is.

Enough.

“I love the Lord, because He hears my prayers and answers them. Because he bends down and listens, I will pray as long as I breathe.”

When I wear my little girl’s shoes and call out, “You are my God, and I have a question (need, fear, longing, concern, anxiety, problem),” He focuses on me. In those moments, I am seen, understood. I am precious to Him, and I know it.

And that’s worth more than the answer to the prayer itself.

Because He is enough.

~*~
Author bio: 

Bethany Kaczmarek is a sojourner. So far, she’s just explored Earth, but her love for adventure and old stories makes her yearn for a chance to wander in other realms in the not-too-distant future. 

Author of Strains of Silence (Summer 2017) and ACFW finalist for Editor of the Year, she enjoys tales that take a guess at what's out there. And she loves to add her own ideas to the mix. 

Other job titles: Wielder of Red Pens, Grammar Ninja, Wiper of Tears and Milk, Indie Music Connoisseur, and Friend. 

You can connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or at www.bethanykaczmarek.com

Devotional by Mary Manners: Boundaries

Let's welcome my good friend Mary Manners to the blog today! She's here to share another devotional that she wrote. 

The title of today's devotional is, "Boundaries," and it is quite appropriate. You'll understand why when you read the story from Mary's childhood experience. I will give you a clue: it involves a child testing the boundaries (given to her by her dad) when she receives a brand new bike.

Enjoy your time with Mary! :)

~*~

Boundaries
A devotional written by Mary Manners

“Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.”~ Psalm 143:8, NIV 

My seventh birthday was a momentous occasion mainly because in my family, turning seven meant I was sure to receive what I imagined, in my child’s mind, to be the greatest gift of all—a shiny new bike.

It was a beauty—a splash of bubblegum pink with streamers flowing from curved handlebars. Pedal brakes and a chunky banana seat rounded out the mix. One look and I knew that suddenly I had my freedom, my independence, and the power to travel all the way to…the end of the block. It was better than the confines of our meager, chain-linked back yard. I grew up in Chicago, after all, and the streets could be a dangerous place.

My dad taught me how to ride. An hour, a few scrapes and bumps later, and I was ready to go. No helmets back then and no fancy riding gear…just the wind at my back and pure pedal power. Dad outlined the riding boundaries, cautioning me not to cross the street at either end of the block or the alley that ran behind our house. Cars were dangerous.

Dad’s firm warning rang through my mind for the first week or so, at least until my sister challenged me to a race around the block. We’d ride off in opposite directions, keeping our progress top-secret, until one of us returned to the starting line—and victory—at the front of our house.

Guilt nagged as I launched myself, pedaling into the wind. To circle the block and claim my victory I’d have to cross the alley twice, breaking my dad’s rule. Yet, the desire to be one of the ‘Big Kids’ along with my sister only served to make me pedal faster. The sky smiled clear-blue as the streets whispered encouragement. What could possibly go wrong?

Closing in on the alley, I picked up speed. The faster I crossed, the faster I would be done. No sound of an engine, nary a car in sight. Perfect until…Crash!

My gaze kissed the cerulean sky as the front tire of my bike plowed a canyon into the passenger door of an approaching Chevy station wagon. I sailed over the hood to sprawl, several yards beyond, across the unyielding concrete.

Needless to say, in the time it took for the frantic driver to scoop me off the cement, I knew that I suffered a much worse fate than losing the race to my sister. I’d broken my father’s steadfast rule. There was no choice but to return home and confess my transgression. The evidence was clearly etched over my cheeks…and my knees…and across my throbbing elbows.

But, just as it is with my Heavenly Father, Dad was more concerned about my welfare than my transgression. He cleaned my wounds and we had a long talk. Dad repaired my bike and eventually my bruises—both physical and emotional—healed.

I learned a valuable lesson that day, one that remains with me decades later.

Boundaries are set for a reason—not to confine but to protect with the deepest love. Yet, even when our free will takes us across a dangerous road or down a shadowed alley, God our Father welcomes us home with open arms and forgiveness. When we stray, we must remember that God is waiting for our return with open arms. No sin or transgression can separate us from Him.