I’m so excited to introduce you to a woman I’ve have had the privilege of meeting in real life at the Declare Conference and now considering my friend. Her heart for the Lord is as stunning as she is in person!
Karin Madden is wife to a warrior and mom to a beautiful pack of six. Homeschooler. Faith writer. Compassion blogger. German-blooded southerner. She shares words through the eyes of a mother, a military wife, and a woman who lived more than three decades believing in a distant God. She writes to inspire and encourage – to remind others they are not alone. When she isn’t chasing her six-pack, you can find Karin at http://sunrisewithasixpack.com.
Philippians 4:13 NKJV
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
The Prayers Of A Mother
We rounded the corner blinded by the scorching desert sun. Our necks craned until we saw the red dome in the distance. There’s nothing like an outing with Daddy. While the rest of the world seemed to be veering in and out of lanes leading them to and from the daily grind, we breathed the taste of freedom. My warrior, our six-pack, and I.
Countless days, weeks, and months of separation brought by deployments lingered in our memories as we relished this taste of freedom on a regular old weekday.
We spotted our destination in the distance and the kids bubbled with glee. The Adventure Dome – this red-roofed capsule of childhood memories. Don’t we all pray for these memories for our little ones? Don’t we look into their newborn faces and hope for endless fulfilled dreams? We fall to thankful knees and pray blessings over our young broods. Deep down we know He has unimaginable good in store for these young ones who walk this earth carrying pieces of our hearts.
That’s when we saw him. He shuffled past cars at the red light glancing from side to side with pleading eyes as if his soul whispered, “Please, look up. Please see me.”
My warrior peered at me in a hushed whisper, “What do you think, Babe?”
My heart ached as my thoughts went to the faces of others I had passed before this lone soul. You see, before this man, I met James, Jim, Ryan, and the haggard woman in the parking lot. Faces upon faces swam before my eyes as I looked at the desperate soul wandering the street corner in the blazing Las Vegas heat. Sometimes it feels like the heat will burn right to our core, and just when we think we can’t take one more day – the fall breeze breaks through.
“How long has he been waiting for that fall breeze?” I wondered.
Strands of sandy matted hair hovered around his neck. His weathered skin took on the appearance of beaten leather, as his hunched shoulders appeared to hold the weight of a broken life. And he had a mother once, too.
Every crumbled soul I pass on the street holding scrawled signs tears at my mother heart. We all entered this world into the arms of a mother, but some of us got lost along the way. The worn and hopeless faces once peered into this new world with wonder. And I wonder how much their mothers prayed, too.
“I never say ‘no’ anymore,” I mused back at my warrior.
His hand scrambled for his wallet as we approached the light. The man shuffled past car after car waiting for any motion from these passersby. We waved and he slowly approached our window.
“Ask him what his name is,” I whispered.
My warrior handed him the bill and asked, “Hey there, what’s your name?”
The man’s eyes lit with hope at a brief conversation with a caring soul, “I’m Russell.”
“God bless you, Russell, we will pray for you,” my warrior smiled.
“Oh, thank you, thank you. God bless you,” he answered as his eyes went to the heavens, “Remember, Philippians 4:13.”
And the light changed.
Our children craned their necks to watch him disappear in the distance.
“I’m glad we helped him,” they chimed from the back.
“Yea, me too, sweeties. He is someone’s baby,” I replied.
We spent the day riding, spinning, and twirling as our kids squealed in delight. Nightfall arrived and we took our weary adventurers home. As yawned-filled nighttime prayers filled the room, they added a soul to the listening ear of God, “And please help Russell . . . he needs your help . . .”
My eyes glistened as I thought of the old man whose mother surely dreamed of brighter places than a street corner in the dust of desert heat.
And this is why we are here – to open our hearts and hands for the babies of mothers before us.
To be the hands of Christ.
Mothers we’ll never know, who welcomed new life and hoped for endless blessings as they gazed into the blue haze of newborn eyes are waiting for us to remember – everyone is someone’s baby. Everyone is a beloved child of God.