My mom used to tell me, “Be careful what you pray for…”
And though I probably never acknowledged her wisdom when I was a winsome teen, I’ll gladly admit it now. God has a way of taking our prayers, even the ones we don’t remember praying, and answering them in His own way, in His own time.
Last night while I was sorting through a tangled mess of papers in a stuffed-to-capacity filing cabinet, I stumbled upon this little prayer that I’d penned nearly two decades ago.
I’m quite certain that at twenty-years old, my vision of servanthood was far more romantic than folding underwear at midnight and sweeping up mounds of crushed Goldfish crackers.
But according to my littlest girl’s declaration in the park last week, I got what I prayed for!
I’m not sure my life fulfills every line of this simple poem, but I think I’ll keep on praying this prayer in faith.
And maybe, just maybe, if God continues to answer my plea, by the time my years of servanthood on earth are done, I will, indeed, leave behind a few footprints marked with grace.
