Why I Embrace ‘Car Prayers’ Just Like My Mom Did

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Ah, Sunday mornings in my childhood home—what a whirlwind! With my dad off to church early for meetings, it was up to my mom to manage the chaos of six kids. We’d wake up slowly, often needing a few reminders to get moving. There was always one sister who would cry about breakfast, and let’s just say a calm atmosphere was nowhere to be found amidst frantic searches for shoes that hadn’t seen the light of day in a week and the inevitable squabbles over who got more mirror time.

“Put on a slip!” my mom would shout. “That’s your brother’s tie!” Her voice would rise in pitch and intensity. And heaven forbid anyone suggested wearing a sweater vest instead of a tie—that was outright blasphemy!

By the time we finally piled into the car—squeezed into our trusty Dodge Caravan or later, the Chevy Suburban—going to church was the last thing on our minds. We were grumpy, uncomfortable, and probably awaiting some sort of punishment for our behavior once we got home. Mom would be yelling about how late we were until the door of the car slammed shut. And just like that, she transformed.

She would fold her arms on the steering wheel, close her eyes, and shake her head as if to clear the morning fog. Then, she’d pray. It always struck me how quickly she could switch from chaos to calm—it felt almost like an act. How could she go from yelling to praying in the blink of an eye? I found it insincere and, frankly, annoying. After her prayer, we weren’t allowed to turn on the radio, so we’d either drive in silence or listen to her lecture.

But one thing was clear: my mother had unwavering faith. It wasn’t just a Sunday thing; it was part of who she was. Sure, she could be a bit eccentric, especially in the mornings, but she always sent us out into the world with a prayer. As a teenager, I thought it was just a way to delay our departure, but now as a mother myself, I get it.

I find myself praying more now than I ever did before having kids. My prayers are often silent, quick, and aimed at understanding my children’s needs. I ask for guidance from God, who knows them better than I do, hoping for insights into what they need to thrive. After sleepless nights, I prayed for rest, feeling like a sincere plea would surely be answered.

Once my kids started spending time away from me, I began to offer up short prayers for their happiness, their sense of being loved, and their safety. I even prayed that they’d find support from others when I couldn’t meet all their needs.

When my eldest started preschool, we made it a tradition to pray in the car every morning before we left the driveway. Seat belts on, radio off, and I would pray for our day ahead. My husband, not one for morning chit-chat, often finds it annoying when our kids ask for prayers during drop-off. But when your child looks to you for a moment of calm, it encourages you to be your best self. And trust me, the kids will tattle if Dad tries to leave without a prayer!

So, while I never expected to carry on this tradition from my childhood, I’m genuinely grateful for those car prayers. They might not have been what I thought I’d embrace, but there’s a certain grace and practicality in it. Despite my many shortcomings as a parent, I hope my children see that I truly want what’s best for them and that I’m not shy about asking for help.

In summary, I’ve come to appreciate the power of car prayers, just as my mother did. They serve as a grounding ritual in our busy lives, reminding me to seek guidance and support for my children’s well-being.