You know that we care for our mothers, whatever their ages, and I bring these three mothers to you in prayer. You know their diagnoses, the particulars of their medical histories, their prognoses, and their feelings about it all.
Give them your closest ear as they whisper their questions, their prayers, their dreams, and their pains through the courses before them. May you collect their every word, gesture, and ache, translate them into beautiful, powerful speech, and may you be moved by them to act gloriously.
Grant them your company through what may feel like both a crowded and lonely time. May they sense you in glances, in whispers, in surprises, in meals, in quiet.
Heal their bodies through any means necessary, using doctors with their medicines, nurses with their many touches, technicians and their tests, and friends and family and children and strangers, making every single interaction a strong movement of divine healing.
Rebuke death all the way through, like you did in Jesus and reset their bodies to be increasingly vessels of health and glory. Fill them with reminders that you have conquered death and all its effects, and keep them in that peace when all seems opposite.
Endure with them the broadness of unanswered questions, occasional doubts, hard-uttered gratitude, resentment, wondering, knowing and not knowing, and waiting. Bless their efforts and their attempts to restore themselves while giving love to others.
Make them laugh. Make them sit and stir and run in joy. Make their evenings filled with splendid memories and their days cracked with blessing upon blessing.
Open before them and us your future, and make us to find our destinies in you. Our collective future is in and with and for you, and may you grant us daily a proximity to that tomorrow.
Give them and us such generous spirits that we pray for the best, seek the good, and persist in the suffering along this way.
Empower every person in their path to be loving, gracious, good, faithful, and persistent even when we don’t know how such things come through us.
Grant us silence when words falter. Grant us strength to submit to a redeemed life that ends and doesn’t end in you. Equip us to be a supportive, fiercely loving, vulnerable and weak and bold and steady community of witnesses to what you’re doing.
In every way, remember Grace, Rob’s mother, and my mother.
In the name of the One who Heals all our diseases.