A Kiss and a Prayer

As a wife and mom, my going out after dark days are mostly behind me, but last night, a friend and I decided to live dangerously. We went to see War Room at 7:15 and have dessert afterward.

For two mommies of littles, it was going to be a late night. We were out past 10, yo!

As I was getting ready to walk out the door, it occurred to me I had no guarantee I would come home. Our highway into town is notoriously dangerous, especially in the dark.

I could be walking out this door for the last time. I wasn’t maudlin, just mindful.

Even though I had been racing to leave, I looked at these two precious people and paused. I took a deep breath and looked into my daughter’s eyes, “I love you, baby girl.”

Then I walked around to my husband, I held his face, kissed him and thanked him for watching our daughter so I could go out. He kind of poo-pooed me, like it’s his job, but I was grateful. His job and life are so hard that when he takes time to do things for me, for us, it is truly a big deal.

I left with a kiss and a prayer.

As I walked out to the car, I didn’t know what led me to that moment, but I prayed for God to remove any worry from my heart, and to keep reminding me what a fragile life we lead so I truly treasure each moment. I thanked Him for the peace of knowing that whatever I had done or been up until that moment was all I could do, and started the car.

The drive to the theater and home were without incident. I was more mindful of my blind spots and speed than typical, but nothing happened. The house looked exactly like it had when I left. The kiddo was zonked out.

I cradled her head and kissed her face, silently praying, “Thank you for bringing me safely home, Lord.”

And I went to bed. The next morning, my daughter woke up early and came stomping into our room.

“Why didn’t you check on me last night?” Her little nose crinkled in dramatic anger, playfully thrusting her tiny fists at her sides.

“Of course I checked on you. I always do. After turning off your fish tank light, music and lava lamp, I kissed your face and hugged you. I tried to wake you, but you were out!”

She was mildly appeased. “Well, okay, but I wanted you to wake me up because I was praying you would make it home safely.”

Oh, my heart! To hear her taking her worries to God just like I did was such a humbling moment.

I smiled, and said, “me too,” wrapping her in my arms, savoring the feel of her cheek against the hollow of my throat.

Someday, I will kiss her and her father good-bye for the last time. It might be tomorrow, five years from now, or 40. I won’t ever know when, so today has to be enough to show her who I am in Christ and so she will always knows how much I loved her.

When that day comes, I want to know I loved her in deed and truth well enough to give her the most important thing I’ve ever found, a faith in God.

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