Hey Reader–
He prayed above the water.
Every weekend we take the boys to swim lessons.
Finn is still in the parent/child class, and I love it. It's one of my favorite parts of the week — thirty minutes in the water where I'm not multitasking, not needing to juggle or balance attention between both kids, just me and my two-year-old.
Maximus has private lessons right next to us.
So what starts as our bonding time slowly turns into Finn craning his neck toward Max's lane every time he hears a cry — watching him. Just to make sure he's ok.
Max's lessons aren't cheap. I'd be lying if I said the cost doesn't cross my mind. But water therapy is genuinely one of the most recommended things for kids working through mobility challenges, and we've seen real progress. So we keep going.
This past week, Max didn't want to get out of the pool afterward. I had to carry him toward the locker room because he just wanted to stay with his teacher. And Finn was in a great mood in the water with me. I wasn't watching Max the way I usually do.
Mike caught me in the chaos of the locker room afterward and whispered: "Max struggled in his lesson today."
And I had about a thousand thoughts in four seconds. Was it worth it? Do we keep going? Should we—
And then the next morning.
Before the sun was fully up, Maximus got about two inches from my face. "Have any dreams, mama?"
I was barely awake. "I can't remember right now."
"You dream about Jesus."
I laughed, hugged him. "I'm sure I did."
And before I could even ask him about HIS dreams — completely unprompted — he said, "I prayed to God yesterday at swim."
I went still.
Tears before I even knew what was happening.
He kept going, matter of fact, like it was the most normal thing in the world: "I didn't pray under water. I prayed above."
He was struggling. And he WENT TO GOD.
Not because I was there to walk him through it or because I was sitting next to him saying, "let's talk to Jesus about this."
He just — knew where to go.
My four-year-old. With every hard thing he carries, every challenge that is just his normal. He prayed. On his own. When I wasn't around to guide him into it.
And I couldn't stop crying because I know what that says about who God actually is.
My son knew at four years old that God was SAFE. That he could go to Him in the middle of struggling and God would be there. No performance or prerequisites. He just went.
We are not four.
Some of us are 24. 34. And God still — scares us. Still feels like someone we have to approach carefully. Someone who might not be there, or might be there just to tell us we got it wrong.
And my son prayed above the water.
Like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Jesus said — and I mean He actually said this —
"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." (Matthew 19:14)
He wasn't being poetic. He was telling us something about His OWN character. Children come to Him freely because they don't have the walls yet. They don't have the version of God that got used against them. They don't have the memory of being told He wouldn't show up unless they performed correctly.
They just know He's safe.
Maximus knew. Without me.
The God my son prayed to in the middle of a hard swim lesson is not the God I was handed growing up. The God I was handed felt like someone you had to earn access to. Get yourself right first. Clean up your act. Then knock on the door.
But THAT God — the one who was in that pool with my son on a Saturday while he was struggling — He doesn't need you to have it together. You don't need to approach Him carefully or get your heart right first.
He's just safe.
You were just never introduced to the right God.
Seven words before 7am and I am still wrecked by them.
"I prayed to God yesterday at swim."
I hope they wreck you a little too. In the best way possible.
Have a wonderful weekend. 💜
P.S. — If you want to keep connecting in faith-filled sisterhood, come join our free online group, Be Mighty in Sisterhood, directly on our website to keep you off of social media and focused on healing with God.
