For Every Worry, There’s Prayer and a Friend

Not too long ago, a dear friend wrote me a note that settled heavy on my heart. Her daughter has been walking through a hard season, wrestling with things that are bigger than any young person should have to manage on her own. My friend’s words were honest and raw — the kind of truth only another mama’s heart can really understand.

She shared how her daughter is working to wean off her medication, praying she can learn how to manage her thoughts and emotions, and how the weight of that journey was spilling over into the rest of the household. But what caught me most was this:

“I sense a spiritual heaviness right now, and I know it’s part of God’s refining and preparation process. It’s just really hard at the moment.”

And isn’t that the heart of it? Parenting, life, faith — all of it can feel like a long refining fire, and sometimes we forget that even the hardest seasons serve a purpose.

When I wrote her back, the words came as easily as breathing, because I’ve lived them too. I told her what I know to be true, and what I’ve learned the hard way: as parents, it’s tempting to believe that the choices and struggles of our children are a direct reflection of us. That their battles somehow define our worth.

But they don’t.

I’ve had more than one person pat me on the back and tell me I must’ve done everything right, since my children turned out to be such good men. And every time, I have to laugh a little — because I know the truth. I didn’t do everything right. In fact, most days, I did far from it.

Sure, there were days I wore the “Super Mom” cape — when the house was clean, the meals were homemade, and the discipline was textbook perfect. But there were far more days when I was just plain worn out, hanging on by a thread, offering up whispered prayers in the dark, asking God to help me fill the gaps I couldn’t.

And that’s exactly what He did.

I told my friend that if I take credit for anything, it’s for this: I prayed. I prayed hard, every single day, through tears and exhaustion, through silence and sobs. I prayed for my children’s hearts, their futures, their friends, their spouses, their jobs, and all the decisions I’d never be able to control. I trusted God to step in and handle the pieces I couldn’t fix — and

He did.

And He still does.

That’s the beauty of friendship, and of faith. Sometimes all we can do is pray for each other, hold each other’s hearts in our hands, and remind one another that we are not alone. Even in the dark places. Even in the refining.

So if you’re carrying a heavy heart today, or loving someone who’s fighting a battle, please hear me when I say: you’re not alone. God is filling in the gaps — the ones we can’t see and the ones we can’t fix.

And if you ever need a friend to pray for you, just say the word. I gotcha.

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Jann Goar Franklin graduated Russellville High School in 1985 and lives in Grand Cane, Louisiana. She also writes books, which are for sale at www.jannfranklin.com.

You can reach her at jann@jannfranklin.com