Browsing through some of the posts I’ve cobbled together over the last few years and I came across one called “Parenting Prayers for the New Year.” It was the 2015 edition. Since then so much has changed.

At that point, Sonny Boy didn’t know how to tie his shoelaces. He’s almost 12 now – he knows to tie his laces but looking at his shoes you’d never guess that.

At that point, Missy Girl didn’t know how to read. She’s ten now – she knows how to read fluently, but would rather watch endless DIY tutorials on how to make her own soap/ lip balm/ candles/ pencil pouch/ (basically, anything you can buy cheaper off the shelf than if you make it from scratch.)

While so much has changed at the speed of lighting, there’s a lot that remains the same. This parenting gig is still undeniably hard. I still can’t do it on my own. I still need God.

Sure, my mommy role is not so hands-on anymore. I’m not constantly strapping kids in and out of car seats. I’m not constantly wiping bottoms and noses and countertops and floors. But whether my hands play a minimal role or not, my heart’s always going to be in this.

I know – I sound super corny. But that’s just how us moms roll. Also, I doubt anyone under the age of 35 uses the word “corny.” Maybe I should pray for a hipper vocab so I connect more with my kids. Oh well, there’s always next year. For now, here’s a reprisal of my 2015 parenting prayers:

God, help me embrace the “interruptions”

I get most annoyed with my kids when they get in the way of my accomplishing something. Like when I’m shooting for the lofty goal of unloading the dishwasher in, say, one attempt. They seem to have the uncanny knack of knowing when to strike.

But what if you and I embraced those interruptions? Because people always come before process. Especially your own little people.

Which means that when Missy M comes to me with her 17th artistic interpretation of our stick figure family under a rainbow (see blog pic), I’m present. Not just physically. Not just in a cursory, there’s-a-billion-other-things-to-do way. But in a way that welcomes the interruptions. Because, really, life happens in the moments that are not on the to-do list.

God, enable me to love the now

When my kidlings were babies, I couldn’t wait for them to eat solids so I could stop nursing, walk so they didn’t have to be carried, get potty trained so I didn’t have to deal with diapers – you know, just hurry up and get on with it so I could have some semblance of my old life back.

But I need God to help me enjoy where they’re at. Right now.

When Sonny Boy can’t tie his shoelaces, I need to remember that in the not-too-distant future I may be coming undone when he leaves home. If Missy M can’t read on her own, I want to stop and enjoy the fact that she still needs me to read to her. She still needs me. And that’s precious.

God, help me walk the walk

I usually wait until the coast is clear before I venture to have my time alone with God. In other words, I usually wait for a kid-free time – and if a ray of sunshine is pouring in through my bedroom window and Chris Tomlin is on the radio,  I somehow think I have the perfect ambiance to commune with God.

But life doesn’t happen in those pristine moments. It’s in the trenches that I can show them what it means to trust God.

Last year I was traveling with both kids to India (from the US), without the hubbers – three long plane rides and two endless layovers awaited us. (Yeah, I know, I plead minor insanity). As I prepped the kids for the trip, I reminded them that it wasn’t easy for me to travel with two kids across the whole world.

Four-year-old Missy M then reminded me, “But Jesus holds the whole world, mamma. You don’t have to worry.”

Preach it, kid!

God, help me not fall into the perfectionism trap

I remember Sonny Boy’s first day of preschool couple years ago. The teacher had set out coloring pages and crayons at each station. Sonny Boy sits down with great trepidation and says meekly, “But I don’t know how to color inside the lines.” He was three years old.

God help this mamma ease up on expectations. Help me stop giving the Tiger mom a run for her money. She can have the title if she wants. Really.

Help me know when I let the burden of perfectionism get in the way of their potential.

God, give me the wisdom to know when to butt in

Missy M was making brownies in her new Magic Mixer a few days ago. There she was cranking the handle of a  wobbly plastic pink-and-purple cake mixer. And there I was, hovering.

There’s a fine line between helping and hovering, between supporting and suffocating. It makes the difference between creating a confident spirit and one that fosters self-doubt.

God, help me pull back on the helicopter parenting. They’ll learn from their messes and their mistakes.

And I’ll learn from mine. With grace to cover each moment.