Encouragement for Christian Moms: “A Mother’s Prayer”

I recently read this poem at a Mother’s Day luncheon at my church. I know Mother’s Day has long gone, but I wanted to share it with you. I hope this encourages you!
Love, Imani

 

A Mother’s Prayer by Imani Ackerman

Lord,
Permission to speak freely?
I know you made me,
Fearfully & Wonderfully,
And I’m grateful,
Truthfully,
But I’m wondering,
If you don’t mind,
If you can do something about these…
thighs.
I’m just not sure, in their current state,
if I can endure much more.

I mean –
Let’s be honest,
I’ve been a mom for a bit
I should be like, “I got this.” 
Wake up
Worship
Work it,
Whatever I have to do to keep my world movin’,
But sometimes I don’t know how much longer I can do it.

Also, I don’t wanna be too vain,
But you already know my heart and what I’m gonna say
So I’ll just say it,
It’s my stomach, Lord.
I’m just saying!
I might have more stamina if I had my high school shape,
Can you please consider doing something about this waist?

And then my hair,
Are those greys?
I know your word says grey hair is a crown of splendor,
But my world says it’s just a sign of old age.

And these hips that you gave me to juggle these babies —
Are not lying.
They’re telling the whole truth,
And don’t even get me started on this caboose!

But in all seriousness
Jesus,
Could you do something about this form?

I don’t know how much longer this bosom can warm
the man that you asked me to honor and love.

I don’t know how much longer these arms can cradle these kids who drive me absolutely crazy.
I don’t know how much longer I can go on when my womb continues to deceive me.
It’s getting hard to believe that I’ll reap your blessings when I can hardly carry my seeds.

I don’t know how much longer these eyes can endure these sleepless nights,
bullying monsters,
praying for prodigals,
curing colick,
mourning a bed that is half-empty.

I don’t know how much longer I can guard my heart against wanting to be like that other mom,
or feeling like I’m not good enough,
and my other unending list of insecurities.

And according to my biological clock I have absolutely no time to be broken.

But I need to.
Permission to be broken, right now?
God, I need you.

I just need a moment
To cry out
To hide out
To find my safe place in You and not care who finds out,
A place to praise through imperfection
To make You perfect in my weakness
That when they call me “superwoman”
I can tell them my secret,
That You put that super in me
Because my kids,
your kids,
they need me,
To be a model of what it means to put faith in the Father.

Permission to be a daughter?
So that I can embody your call to be a mother. ⭐

 

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