I love to hear my children pray. With bowed heads and eyes closed, holding the hand next to them, they pray, “Thank you, God, for this food that Mommy cooked. Use it to make us strong to serve you. Please heal Daddy’s leg. Bless Grandma and Mom-ma and Pop-pa in America. And thank you for that special day when we picked up Daddy and Musa from the airport. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
They don’t understand it yet, but they are little children kneeling before the throne of a great King, pouring out their hearts. My heart is full as I kneel there with them , also silently praying that the great King will draw them to himself, giving them knowledge and understanding that I cannot give them.
May my own prayers always be as simple and heartfelt as those of a child.
They don’t understand it yet, but they are little children kneeling before the throne of a great King, pouring out their hearts. My heart is full as I kneel there with them , also silently praying that the great King will draw them to himself, giving them knowledge and understanding that I cannot give them.
May my own prayers always be as simple and heartfelt as those of a child.
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