Article and photography contributed by Sarah Richmond. (Meet our writers here.)

I can be a slow learner.

Already tardy in starting our homeschool day, my hurried hands fumbled to open the first textbook. This is when I caught sight of our family devotional book out of the corner of my eye.

A short internal back-and-forth played out in mind as fingers flipped geography pages.

"We're getting a late start as it is...The kids never seem to pay attention to the devotional anyway..." All my typical excuses to keep plowing through, to keep the train on time...on time, maybe...but where were we headed? The destination hoped and prayed for, or barreling down a seemingly smoother, albeit apathetic road?

Closing the book in my hands, I picked up the devotional--deciding the retreat of a few small wayward steps now was better than risking a long day spent journeying together with these small souls without proper food or water. I can be a slow learner. So many times choosing to charge ahead regardless of direction, tunnel-visioned as warning signs of bumps in the road or steep inclines approaching go whizzing by. So quick I am to lament in discouragement when the wheels fly off, never stopping to acknowledge I am the one behind the wheel. Playing victim to parenthood and all its messy, without owning the fact, I am driving and my young passengers are for better or worse, strapped in for the ride.

I don't know why I paused.

I won't pretend to know for sure what caused my pause on this particular morning. It could have been experience - slow learner maybe, yet working on it all the same. It could have been desperation - the realization I had been praying the same weary Mom prayers for the hearts of my children to soften and grow, without humbly offering the same prayers for my own soul. And maybe it was simply Grace halting my checklist trajectory, my chronic compulsion to accomplish. Whatever the contributing factors, it was decided in a moment - geography could wait just a few more minutes, we were detouring back to start again.

With my 10-year-old playing with pencil shavings piled upon her desk, my kindergarten-aged son fidgeting to suppress sound effects accompanying his Lego mini-figures, and a pre-schooler twirling in circles behind me, I slowly, intentionally read the short daily devotional.

Always sweet and encouraging, the passage came to an end a couple of minutes later without any major lightning bolt epiphanies. But before I could close the book and ask who wanted to pray for our day, my 6-year-old, anticipating my usual question popped up from behind his Lego army and said, "I'll pray today, Mom!"

Trying to shield my shock and great joy, I quickly agreed and gave him the floor. Bowing my head I wondered, had I heard correctly? Was my sweet boy who has always refused to pray aloud--the child who at the very most will echo a dinner prayer when fed the lines--suddenly jumping at the opportunity to pray his own prayer? All of these questions, along with elation and that parental fist-pumping triumph felt when a child matures right before your eyes filled my soul during the course of my son's simple, short prayer.

Closing with an "in Jesus' name, Amen," he looked up, eyes meeting my huge smile and near smothering of praise and exhortation for his sincere effort. As sisters joined in the jolly, tears burned at the backs of my eyes over this small moment, this nearly missed road-side miracle. A miracle my mama's heart didn't fully realize it needed until there it was.

If we would only ask.

The repetitive nature of discipling young children can often challenge my creativity, zap all energy and leave me annoyed by the sound of my own voice come dinner.  In the days and weeks and YEARS spent trying to train young hearts to simply hang up coats and not color on walls, I can begin to doubt any of my efforts are making even the slightest of impacts. And in the tiresome discouragement, my heart hardens, my grip tightens that steering wheel once again, while foot presses further on the accelerator, just aching to finish.  How gracious of God to slow me back to intentional living with a child's choice to drive closer to Him.

A couple tears breaking free and sliding down cheeks, I pulled my son in for one more hug with an awakened perspective and gratitude. All of my striving and to-do-list whip cracking nearly stole the sweetness of a 6-year-old boy's prayer offered up from the seemingly mundane. Father God, the ever patient and generous Teacher has a path laid full of such gifts as I experienced that school-day morning. If we would just ask, believe, and then with eyes open, agendas surrendered, watch Him at work.

Originally Published 8/17/2015