He was praying. The usual “Thank you for Mommy and thank you for Daddy” were thrown in there. He might have even pulled out his typical blanket prayer about his fears, “And thank you that we don’t have to be scared of tornados.”
It had been awhile since they’d prayed before bed. It seemed as though the momma had nothing left to give at 8:30 at night. Often there was little more than a hug and a pat on the head. But tonite she followed through on intention and made the effort to sit still long enough on the side of the bed to listen to a few prayers. Three prayers to be exact.
Perhaps down deep she could sense that she needed to hear the prayers more than they needed to say them. If she did have any sort of inclination of this, she didn’t let on. At least not until the third prayer, the boy’s prayer. And not until the line to beat all lines hit her out of nowhere, knocking the wind right out of her while at the very same time, flooding new breath into her lungs with a love she had all but forgotten.
His eyes were squinted tightly, a testimony to the passion with which he prayed. His hands were clasped together in sort of a pleading fashion and he would shake them when he wanted to emphasize his point. His little voice was pure and honest and hopeful.
“And thank you God for dominoes. Amen.”
He looked up at her when he was done, his head tilted to the side, a shy smile on his face. Without saying a word, he asked if he had done well. “Was my prayer ok?” His eyes questioned.
The momma swallowed hard and blinked her eyes a time or two to clear the mist that had gathered there. “That was such a good prayer buddy. Thank you. I’m so proud of you.” She hugged him tightly and could feel his tiny chest swelling beneath her in pride. The good kind of pride. The pride that comes from knowing you’re loved and then settling into it.
Later that night the momma thought about the prayer about dominoes. She analyzed why it had touched her so deeply. They’re just dominoes, afterall. “But that’s just it! That’s why it is so moving,” she thought, “Because they’re JUST dominoes.” To be able to thank God for family or protection is almost expected. Any human can walk through those words unrehearsed and even passionless. But to thank God for dominoes, why that is another thing entirely.
If the momma was to thank God for dominoes, she would be hesitant. She would first think, “Should I even have the dominoes. Are they just a waste of my time and my money? Will God be unamused with my frivolity?” Then she would think, “Maybe I should give the dominoes to someone else. How unholy of me to keep them to myself.” Her mind would continue to race, “How could I be using the dominoes in a way that would please God? Or better yet, should I fast from the dominoes because I’m getting too much pleasure from them?” She even might wonder “Are the dominoes in God’s plan for my life?”
Tears flooded her eyes again. She saw a picture in her head of God. He was seated at a dining room table, lining up dominoes and laughing as He pushed the first one to trigger a whole chain-reaction of toppling rectangles.
How the momma longed for the complete freedom to just thank God for something as trite and unholy as dominoes. To overflow with joy over something so small and seemingly insignificant. To know that every joy, even the joy from tiny wooden black tiles with white dots, has its source in God.
She thought about how rigid prayer had become for her. How she wiggled her way through it second-guessing every word, feeling as though she had to read God’s mind instead of simply share her own.
She squinted her eyes tightly and clasped her hands, waving them in front of her with passion, “Thank you God for lipstick and earrings. For words that pour out of me onto paper when I write. For books and cool morning breezes and vanilla cokes.” She could feel her body relaxing, her breath slowing,and yet her heart racing.”Thank you God for sex, for ocean waves as they crash on the sand, for iPhones, for cameras, for crayons, for lattes, for girls’ nights.” She picked up speed with her words. They were pouring out of her now, freely. She might not ever stop. “Thank you God for pigtails, diamond rings, tiptoes and wine.” She smiled. Her chest swelled with pride. The good kind of pride. The pride that comes from knowing you’re loved and then settling into it.
{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
It’s always the little things that give us pleasure, the time spent with loved ones over a simple game or a story told, or a treat shared. Yes, I need to make my list of what I’m thankful for too!
This is fantastic.
good good. really good.
being loved, basking in it, trusting it. a beautiful place to be.
my favorite thing you’ve written i think.
lovely.
Thanks everyone!
I loved this! My favorite line? “The pride that comes from knowing you’re loved and then settling into it.” I want to experience that kind of pride. Thank you for reminding me of a simple way to get there.
That’s my favorite too. I long for that sort of pride too. The fully known and fully loved sort.