Answering a Child's Prayer

I am the mother of seven--though, at the moment, one of them wishes I weren't.

Because each child has come to me with her or his own mind and soul, it has been my opportunity to learn (and laugh) much. My children are some of the best people I know.

One of the ways I have learned from my children is by listening to their prayers.

My older daughter is humble, sweet, helpful, and forgiving. She got none of those traits from me. I learned a lesson about gratitude from her when she was barely three years old. We had just bought our house and gained much needed square footage, but--as in all exchanges--lost some things. One thing we lost in moving was a clothes chute. So, we bought our daughter a clothes hamper for her room. Thanking Heavenly Father for her new hamper became part of her bedtime prayer. For a year.

Another daughter, while learning to pray, got her phrasing backward. Instead of asking Heavenly Father for what she needed or wanted, she thanked Him as if it had already happened. ("Thank thee we can be safe tonight. Thank thee that Grandma will get better.") I took it as a lesson on faith. Our favorite was, right after one brother went on a mission and another brother moved out, her turning our usual plea that they would be safe and provided for into, "Thank thee they can live without us."

Currently, we have a youngster in that learning-to-pray stage who provides us with great amusement as well as simple, sweet lessons. Almost always, something funny is thrown in. "Help me to get a brownie," "Help me stay out of the street," or "Help us not to go to jail." One time he prayed, for no discernable reason, that one sister (by name) would think that one brother (by name) was "a guy."

One night, weary from my four-tens work schedule and eager to get a crowd of children, quickly followed by myself, tucked into bed, I hesitated when he asked for toast. Whenever I give one of my children a snack, four others come up to me, one by one, asking for the same thing. I could spend all my time playing waitress. Because of this, I've almost implemented a no-snack policy. Bedtime snacks are especially discouraged. Put simply, it's crowd control.

So, I said, "You're hungry because you didn't eat much of your dinner. You need to eat your dinner when it's dinner time. Now, it's bedtime. Say your prayers."

He turned around at the edge of his bed and prayed, "Heavenly Father, please help me get toast."

Zing! I should have seen that one coming.

But I could feel God smiling right alongside me. So, I put aside my fatigue to answer my child's prayer, which is, after all, a large part of the role I was called to play in his life.

Which led me to reflect on the interconnectedness among my children and me and God and our efforts to live gospel teachings. On the reflections of each other and of God that we can see in each other. The standing in as agents of God for each other. The teaching of one another, the humbling of each other, the loving and serving of each other that are the point of earth life. The fact that I am as infantile and unpolished to God as my child is to me. And just as cherished.

My child's prayer for toast reminded me that sometimes our kids could use some help when they are up against our authority. It can't be easy to have a large person controlling everything and making all your decisions. Children are at our total mercy. We buckle them into the car and take them they have no idea where. We put them in clothes they didn't choose, decide what and when they eat and how warm or cold the house is, whom they see. We allow them to have injections when they cannot possibly understand why.

Of course we have to do these things. But when we say no, are we balancing our child's needs with our own? Or just thinking of our own?

Maybe if I could remember that a plea to God could be a perfectly natural response to my authority, I could more often use it generously and fairly--and avoid the you're-not-my-mom wish.