Manna For Moms

Devotions for Moms Like You!

Poetry

A New Year’s Prayer for Moms

Megan Breedlove No Comments

New Year's Prayer for Moms

A New Year’s Prayer for Moms
(Reposted from January 1, 2013)

Father God,

You are holy, awesome, and loving.
You are wise, kind, and good.
Your ways are perfect, and Your judgments are just.
We begin the new year by bowing before You in praise,
Offering You all of ourselves—
Our bodies, souls, and spirits,
Our desires, thoughts, and actions,
Our very lives.

We need you, Lord.
We need Your love, mercy, and faithfulness.
We need Your wisdom and instruction.
We need You, for You are Life Itself.
Teach us to know You, to love You, and to seek You,
Until doing so becomes as natural for us
As breathing.

May we breathe You into our spirit,
Allowing You fill our lives,
And then breathe You out to our precious children.
We want them to see You in us,
To know You through us,
And then to love You with us.

Lord, we confess that as we shepherd Your littlest sheep,
We desperately need Your help every day.
Every moment.
We deeply desire to love them as You would—
With infinite patience, creativity, and kindness.
But we don’t have the wisdom to rightly love our children.
Apart from You, we don’t have the generosity or unselfishness.
Often, we lack the energy.
We need You to strengthen and encourage us.
We need You to teach us.
We need You to forgive us when we fail.
We need You to make us the moms You desire us to be—
The moms our children deserve.

We want to do what is right for Your lambs.
And we know that You want that even more,
Because You love our children
Even more than we do.
You created them, You love them,
And You’ve given us the privilege of shepherding them
For awhile.

We humbly and gratefully acknowledge the gift of our children,
And we ask You to make us worthy of that gift,
This year and every year.
May everything we do as a mom
Be for their benefit
And for Your glory.
This we ask in the name of Your precious Son, Jesus,
Who once needed a mother’s love too.

Amen.

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A Prayer for Moms at Year’s End

Megan Breedlove No Comments

A Prayer for Moms at Year's End

Father God,

The year is almost over,
This year that You granted me
To enjoy and rejoice over my precious children,
To nurture and serve them,
To love them with a love that comes from You,
To pour out my life for them
As You poured out Yours for me.

Sometimes, I served with humility and selflessness.
Thank You, God, for Your grace
That enabled me to love my children well.
May any crumb of goodness they see in me
Remind them of the feast of love that You offer them.

Other times, I served not them, but myself.
Thank You, God, for Your forgiveness
And for my children’s forgiveness.
May any wound I have caused them not make them bitter,
But instead, lead them to rejoice in Your perfect healing.

There were moments this year that were beyond precious,
When I cuddled a sleeping child or held a small hand or talked heart-to-heart.
Then there were the joyous times,
When we watched a sunset together, or rode a roller coaster, or ate ice cream cones
And let the ice cream melt all over our faces and hands.
I thank you for all these matchless memories,
And I ask You to engrave them in my heart and in my children’s hearts
Forever.

There were also moments this year that were filled with sadness or grief.
Although I never would have asked for those circumstances,
I thank You for the indescribable beauty of Your comfort.
I thank You for these memories that were precious
In a completely different way,
And I ask You to engrave the feel of Your arms around them on my children’s hearts
Forever.

Engrave in them and in me the soul-deep knowledge
That You were with us through every failure and every success,
Every heartbreaking moment and every breathtakingly beautiful one.

You were in every step we took.

You were in every season and month and week and day and minute.

You were in every beat of our hearts
And in every breath.

You were above all,
And through all,
And in all.

You were, and are, Emanuel.

God with us.

Amen.

Before They’re Gone

Megan Breedlove No Comments

Holding baby's handRaising young children is hard. It’s hard. I know this. As proof, I could tell you about all the things I’ve sacrificed and all the times I’ve wanted to scream in frustration or sob in discouragement.

But I won’t tell you, because you already know. You understand.

After all, what’s so special about holding our child’s hand to cross the parking lot or smoothing his hair back from his way-too-hot forehead?

Everything.

Because moments like these won’t be around forever. Children grow, and as they enter each new stage, they leave behind some of the exquisite moments of the previous one. What once seemed ordinary and commonplace is now gone, and somehow, in the going, it becomes precious. And we realize we would give anything to experience many of the moments we thought nothing of while we they were happening.

The following prose poem puts this into words in a way that’s achingly perfect. I didn’t write it, but there’s no way I could improve upon it.

So get a box of tissues and then read the poem. Let it soak in. I’ll be back at the end to offer a prayer for you and me.

The Last Time

From the moment you hold your baby in your arms,
you will never be the same.
You might long for the person you were before,
When you had freedom and time,
And nothing in particular to worry about.
You will know tiredness like you never knew it before,
And days will run into days that are exactly the same,
Full of feeding and burping,
Whining and fighting,
Naps, or lack of naps. It might seem like a never-ending cycle.

But don’t forget…
There is a last time for everything.
There will come a time when you will feed your baby
for the very last time.
They will fall asleep on you after a long day
And it will be the last time you ever hold your sleeping child.
One day you will carry them on your hip,
then set them down,
And never pick them up that way again.
You will scrub their hair in the bath one night
And from that day on they will want to bathe alone.
They will hold your hand to cross the road,
Then never reach for it again.
They will creep into your room at midnight for cuddles,
And it will be the last night you ever wake for this.
One afternoon you will sing ‘the wheels on the bus’
and do all the actions,
Then you’ll never sing that song again.
They will kiss you goodbye at the school gate,
the next day they will ask to walk to the gate alone.
You will read a final bedtime story and wipe your
last dirty face.
They will one day run to you with arms raised,
for the very last time.

The thing is, you won’t even know it’s the last time
until there are no more times, and even then,
it will take you a while to realize.

So while you are living in these times,
remember there are only so many of them and
when they are gone,
you will yearn for just one more day of them

For one last time.
~~Author unknown~~

Oh, Father God, help us appreciate the indescribable beauty of holding our child’s hand, tucking him in, or brushing her hair, while we still have these opportunities. May we never take these moments for granted. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

Thank You

Megan Breedlove No Comments

Housework is definitely not my favorite part of motherhood. I find it frustrating for two reasons: first, there is always something to be done. The job is never-ending; and second, when I do manage to carve a precious hour out of my day to accomplish something, it gets undone by my children in five minutes.

God has shown me, however, that whether or not housework is a burden to me all depends on my attitude. If I choose to focus on how much it inconveniences me, my attitude won’t be very joyful. If, however, I consider the significance of the fact that I have housework to do, I can be grateful instead of grumpy.

I pray that this poem will encourage you and help transform your perspective on housework. You see, having housework to do is a blessing in disguise.

Thank You

Dear Lord, Your Word says ‘don’t complain’; I know that this is true.
But when it comes to housework or chores I don’t want to do,
It’s easy to resent the things to which I must give time.
“Taking up my cross” isn’t always what I have in mind.

But Lord, you have been teaching me to see the way You see,
To realize that household tasks are blessings You gave me.
And so, I choose to give You thanks for all I have to do,
Knowing that the privilege of doing it’s from You.

Thank You for the laundry dropped in piles upon the floor,
And for the dirty pairs of shoes left right inside the door.
Thank You for the shirts and socks and coats flung everywhere,
For OxiClean and Shout and Tide—it means we’ve clothes to wear.

Dirty cups and dishes clutter countertops and sink.
I sure hope no one’s hungry; I hope no one needs a drink.
If it could all just wash itself, it would be such a treat.
But thanks for dirty dishes, too—it means we’ve food to eat.

Thank You for the sink and floor and toilet I must scrub.
Thank You for the shower; thank You for the tub.
Thank You for the mirror and wet towels I know are coming.
Thank You for this bathroom; it means we’ve indoor plumbing.

The messiness of games and toys and books covers our floors.
And did I mention dolls and blocks and drawings taped on doors?
Sometimes, I think I’ve seen my fill of Hot Wheels, Legos, bibs.
But thank You for this chaos—it means I have four kids.

My front yard isn’t landscaped. It isn’t even mown.
It’s filled with plastic toys and shovels—things that aren’t my own.
It sure won’t win “Yard of the Month”, but I don’t need that anyway.
I thank You for my lived-in yard—my kids have space to play.

There’s so much work I must get done. I do it all, and then
An hour later, it’s a mess, and must be done again.
But Lord, I thank You for the time that I can’t call my own,
The time spent serving others. It means I have a home.

Oh, forgive me, Lord, for asking You for blessings great and small,
Then complaining when I have to clean or take care of them all.
Oh, Lord, the very fact that I always have much to do
Is not a cause for bitterness, but for giving thanks to You.

I see now that every chore I have to do reflects Your grace
In blessing me with earthly things until I see Your face.
May I do my work with gratitude for the opportunity,
Seeing in it a chance for joy, and not mere drudgery.

My heart responds in thankfulness for all that You have given.
I’ll serve You by taking care of it ’til You call me to heaven.
And may I serve in such a way that the world sees Your dear Son
In my heart and hands and words and work, that to Him, they be won.

Loving Jesus

Megan Breedlove 6 Comments

I started my day early,
Before the room was light.
I lifted my son from his crib
And wished it was still night.
But as I held him close and said,
“Hi, Kenneth, precious one,”
I knew that as I greeted him,
I greeted too God’s Son.

When my daughter woke up later,
Calling, “Mommy! Mommy! Down!”
I picked her up and hugged her
In her worn Elmo nightgown.
I know she felt the closeness
That a mother’s touch affords.
I welcomed not just Ellie,
But so, too, the Lord of Lords.

That day, I mixed some formula
And opened jars of peas.
I fixed some “pizza butter” bread
When she grinned and said, “Pleeeeease.”
I heated up some leftovers;
I had to nuke them twice.
And when I fed my children,
I was feeding Jesus Christ.

I made some funny faces,
And “played puzzles” on the floor.
I dressed kitties, ran around outside,
And played with them some more.
We laughed and jumped and tickled,
Making memories to be stored.
When I spent time with my children,
I spent time with my Lord.

I wiped up sticky cereal
And washed the dishes clean.
I straightened, picked up, put away,
And dusted in between.
I did six loads of laundry
And folded it like new.
When I cleaned for my children,
I cleaned for my Savior, too.

When my children were both crying,
I held them in my arms.
I cuddled them and whispered
That I’d keep them safe from harm.
I told them how their Father saved them
With His perfect Lamb.
When I comforted my children,
I comforted I AM.

Later on that evening,
I put them in the bath.
I washed their little bodies
As they kicked around and splashed.
I dried them in soft towels
And put their jammies on.
When I had washed my children’s feet,
I’d washed the Holy One.

I cooked and cleaned and rearranged,
Made beds and taught and played.
I made sure that we had food to eat
And that we often prayed.
I died to self. I made a home
From ordinary things.
But when I served my children,
I served the King of Kings.

To some, I have done nothing,
But to two, I’ve done the world.
I made eternal difference
To my precious boy and girl,
And to the One who watches over
Every pathway that I’ve trod.
For when I’ve loved my precious children,
I’ve loved Almighty God.

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