Last fall, I wrote about a young friend of mine, a member of a Special Operations unit of the U.S. Army who was about to be deployed to Afghanistan.
I was chatting with him a few days before he was shipped out. He asked me to pray for the other members of his unit, none of whom is a Christian. Then he said, "I want to get my mom one of those knee pads they make for gardeners. She's on her knees praying so much, I'm afraid she's going to hurt herself."
When I chuckled at this comment, my friend looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I'm serious."
As we talked, I imagined his mother, her knees sore, her carpet indented, her heart full, and I realized:
I want to be like that.
To think that someday, when my boys are faced with difficulty, they could rest secure in the knowledge that I would be praying for them so diligently that I might hurt my knees?!
And so I prayed: Dear Lord, let it be so. Please. Let it be so.
This week I learned that this godly mother's prayers have been answered. My soldier friend is home again, safe and sound.
And I'm thinking that his mother's knees are still sore. I'm betting her arms are sore, too . . . but who would ever tire of lifting grateful arms in praise?
Thank you, Lord. Thank you.