Dear Lord,
Today, my heart is tender. Sunday is Mother’s Day, and as I sit in the quiet of this early Friday evening, my mind and spirit are wrapped in gratitude and reflection. There’s a warm light filtering through the kitchen window, and I can almost feel the gentle presence of my mother—her voice, her laughter, her prayers whispered over me while I slept. I miss her more than words can say, yet I know she’s with You, surrounded by glory, singing praises I can only dream of.
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As I reflect on this day, I’m reminded of Your Word in Proverbs 31:28:
“Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her.”
Mom was the embodiment of that verse. I remember how she rose early each day, her Bible open beside her steaming cup of coffee. Her prayers were never rushed. She’d sit with the Lord, letting Him guide her before she ever guided us. There was a quiet strength in her—a strength that didn’t shout but stood firm when storms came. That strength was You in her.
I’ve often wondered how she did it—how she held so much together with such grace. Now, as a mother myself, I realize the secret was in her surrender. She gave everything—joy, exhaustion, heartbreak, and hope—over to You, Lord. Her life was a prayer wrapped in love. Not perfect, but faithful.
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Isaiah 66:13 brings me comfort today:
“As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you.”
That’s how Mom loved us—with a comfort that mirrored Yours. She dried our tears, bandaged our scraped knees, but more than that, she pointed us to You when our hearts were bruised. Her hugs were holy ground, a place of safety that taught me what it meant to rest in Your arms.
Lord, thank You for my mother’s love. Thank You for the sacrifices she made that I never fully saw until I had children of my own. Thank You for her patience, her wisdom, her laugh that could break tension like sunlight breaking through clouds. Thank You for the way she prayed over our meals, our exams, our every heartache.
There’s one moment I hold especially close. I was maybe ten, maybe younger, and I had a nightmare. I crept into her room, tears streaming. She didn’t scold me for waking her. She pulled me close and whispered, “Let’s talk to Jesus, baby.” And right there, half-asleep, she prayed peace over me. I slept soundly the rest of the night.
I often pray the same over my children now.
Psalm 139:13 speaks so deeply to me today:
“For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb.”
When I think about the miracle of motherhood—that You chose to partner with women in the mystery of life—it humbles me. You knit me together inside of her, and in turn, she nurtured me into who I’ve become. I pray I can be even half the mother she was—grounded in faith, anchored in Your Word, and guided by Your Spirit.
Sometimes, especially on days like today, grief comes quietly. I’ll be folding laundry or baking something she used to make, and tears will well up. But even in the ache, there’s beauty. I know where she is. She’s with You. And I’ll see her again. What joy that brings my heart.
So, Lord, I offer this prayer, wrapped in all the love I have for her:
A Prayer for Mom
Heavenly Father,
Thank You for the precious gift of my mother. Thank You for her life, her love, her laughter, and her legacy. She was a reflection of Your kindness and care in my life. I ask that You bless all the mothers still walking this earth—grant them strength in their weariness, peace in their chaos, and joy in their calling.
For the mothers who are grieving, be their comfort.
For those who long to be mothers, fill them with hope.
For those who mother in quiet, unseen ways—through mentorship, teaching, or spiritual guidance—bless the fruit of their labor.
Wrap Your arms around the motherless today, Lord. Let them feel You especially close.
And thank You that no matter our story, we are all held by You, the perfect Parent.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
I look at my children today—messy-haired, loud-laughing, full of life—and I smile. In them, I see pieces of my mother. Her patience in my oldest. Her wit in my youngest. Her tenderness in how they love one another. Her faith in how they’re learning to pray.
I feel her, too. In how I sing over them when they’re scared. In how I whisper prayers at night as I tuck them in. In the way I whisper “Jesus, help me” on hard days. And I know she’s smiling, cheering me on from heaven’s balcony.
So today, as we celebrate Mother’s Day, my gift to her is this: to love my family the way she loved us. To live my life the way she lived hers—wrapped in prayer, wrapped in love, and rooted in faith.
I’ll end with this verse, which is my prayer for myself and for all the mothers I know:
Colossians 3:12
“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”
That’s what she wore every day. Not designer clothes or fancy shoes, but a spirit clothed in the beauty of Christ.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I carry you in everything I do.
With love,
Your daughter—still learning, still leaning on Jesus, and still wrapped in your prayers.
The Christian Tech-Nerd 