I have a startling number of moms.
Only one has the official title of Mom. But there are a number of her friends who didn’t make it into the “aunt” category for me. In some ways they were too close for that title. Often they were—and still are—the moms of my friends and friends of my mom. By nature of proximity they became moms to me, too. Their hugs and raised eyebrows filled in at their homes as my mom’s did at my home. It seemed a mom was always present wherever I was.
But it was more than that ring of moms who encircled me. Four moms had a label. My mom committed to praying with three friends when I was eight. For 22 years they met weekly to pray for their nine collective children. They’ve prayed us through school, eight weddings, one child’s death, 17 grandchildren, 1 great-grandchild, multiple states and countries of residence, job changes, health issues and the everyday minutiae of life.
And though their weekly and later monthly gatherings no longer happen like clockwork, they will always be my Prayer Moms.
When my words fail me, I’m comforted by the knowledge my prayer moms are not silent. They faithfully bring me to Jesus’ feet.
This post is part of the 31 Days: Family series. Read the beginning, and see a full index of posts, here.