My grandmother was a prayer warrior. As she raised her children and ran her household, I am quite sure she had a running conversation with God. Whether making a suggestion about what should happen or pursuing guidance and peace through what did happen, my grandmother knew her words were heard and valued.
As a child I saw her grace and poise. She spoke with confidence, laughed with her eyes, and loved with her actions. Her home breathed life into me, and the memories molded my ambition to love well and love big.
Age withered her body but her eyes never lost their courage. Every moment of every day, her eyes held purpose. She spoke from the heart as her fingers glided across a letter board in attempted conversation, but it was her eyes that told us everything. In them you could see evidence of a fresh conversation with God. She prayed with expectation and without apology. I am positive as her last breath faded and with her eyes fixed on Jesus, she was praying favor over each of us.
My mother is a prayer warrior. It is in her nature. Each breath is released with a whisper of praise or thanksgiving. I have sensed her strength throughout my life and have known I was destined for joy because she prayed it into me. As a child, every move I made was supported and enriched by her. As an adult, every decision I make is covered with her prayers.
Mom’s beauty overflows from her heart and is captured in every aspect of her being. Her actions are intentional to need; her creativity is unlimited by the ordinary; and her humor surprises us daily. But her prayers, her prayers cover each of us with purpose and protection. She prays with expectation and without apology.
Her wisdom is my treasure, and her example is my destination.
My grandmother was a prayer warrior. I see her in my mom, and I hope someday, my grandchildren see her in me.