Breathing at the Door

I have four grown children, all very inquisitive and bright.  All totally active and busy all the time. I was constantly torn in four different directions and most of the time I was playing referee more than I was being mom.  I remember getting really tired of deciding who was right and who was wrong...

Sometimes when they were really small I just needed a moment's peace.

I would escape.

Usually to the bathroom (because there was a lock on the door).

I did not announce I was going to the bathroom to pray, I would just slip away and quietly step into the quiet.

Invariably within minutes I would hear heavy breathing on the other side of the door. Then, more heavy breathing.  Eventually I would hear a cacophony of heavy breathing.

 If I took too long, I would usually hear one of them say, "you prayin' Mom?"

Sign.  "Yes".

"Can we come in?"

So, here's the dilemma.  How do you tell your children they can't pray?

All right...come on in.  I loved praying with them, but usually within minutes someone would punch someone else and I would be back to playing referee.

Such is life.

Moments, or seconds count.

Here's the thing.  Both moments are important - moments praying and moments with my kids.

Even while I was playing referee.