I raised my children in church.

But when I say that, I don’t mean I simply raised them to go to church. I raised them to BE the church.

I wanted them to know God beyond Sunday morning.

I taught them to pray.
I taught them the Word.
I taught them where to run when life hurt.
I taught them that Jesus was more than a name we shouted in a sanctuary, He was our refuge, our help, our healer, our provider, and our Father.

I gave them every spiritual tool I knew to give them and I prayed.

Lord, how I prayed and pray.

I covered my babies when they were little, and I cover them now that they’re older. I prayed prayers they heard, and I prayed prayers they never knew I prayed. I called their names before God. I asked Him to protect them, keep them, guide them, order their steps, and put His hands around them when mine couldn’t reach them.

Yet, Grief found my house.

There was no way for me to know that one day for the second time I would be standing in a hospital watching one of my babies fight a battle I could not fight for her.

There was no way for me to know that the faith I spent years teaching my children would one day be the same faith I would have to reach for just to make it through another day.

And Mama, that’s what I want to talk to you about.

Because somewhere there is a mother asking herself:

Did I miss something?

Did I not pray enough?

Did I do something wrong?

Is God punishing me?

No, Mama.

Please don’t turn your pain into punishment.

Every storm that enters your home is not evidence that God has left it.

Every hardship your child experiences is not proof that you failed as a mother.

And every prayer that didn’t produce the outcome you expected does not mean God didn’t hear you.

Sometimes we raise our children in God, cover them in prayer, teach them His Word, and life still brings us to places we never imagined we would have to walk through.

But God.

Those two words have become so personal to me.

But God.

I have cried, but God.

I have been afraid, but God.

I have watched things happen that I would have given anything to prevent, but God.

I have learned that sometimes the prayers we prayed years ago become the covering our children need for a battle we never saw coming.

Mama, your prayers were not wasted.

The scriptures you taught weren’t wasted.

Those Sunday mornings weren’t wasted.

The nights you stood over their beds praying weren’t wasted.

The oil, the tears, the fasting, the intercession none of it was wasted.

You were putting something inside of them.

And you were putting something inside of yourself.

Because there may come a day when life shakes everything around you, and you’ll discover that the foundation you spent years building is now holding you up too.

Romans 8:28 says:

“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God…”

It doesn’t say all things are good.

Some things hurt.

Some things break your heart.

Some things leave you grieving the way life used to be while you’re still thanking God for what remains.

Some things will have you worshiping with tears running down your face.

But our God knows how to take even the thing that hurt us and work through it for His purpose.

So, Mama, if you’re reading this while sitting beside a hospital bed

If your child is struggling

If your family has been hit by something you never prepared for

If you’ve been questioning your parenting, your prayers, or even yourself

I want you to hear another mama say:

You can trust God here too.

Don’t let grief rewrite the story of the mother you’ve been.

Don’t let the enemy convince you that hardship means your prayers didn’t work.

Keep covering your babies.

Keep speaking life.

Keep praying.

Keep believing.

And when you don’t have enough strength to pray a long prayer, sometimes all you need is:

“Jesus, keep my baby.”

I’m still walking through my own story.

I don’t have the ending yet.

But I know the Author.

And I know the same God I introduced my children to when they were little is the God I am depending on to carry us now.

So from one praying mama to another:

This is not punishment.

God has not abandoned your house.

Your prayers still matter.

Your faith still matters.

And your child’s story is still being written.

We raised them to know who to call.

Now, Mama, we have to remember who to call too.

But God.