Here's to that sacred work of Stair-building...
A mother’s prayers could pave a stairway to the moon and
through the stars
For cares of love can press so hard where happiness is
full of scars
The child that makes Her laugh and weep in that quick
leap to woman, man
Can prime a mother’s heart with prayer like nothing else
in this world can
Where time is never kind enough to satisfy its thirst
for tears
Where modern-day Goliaths still test David-faith with
taunting fears
Where she must often reach to touch the hem of grace to
heal the void
That began when each newborn left Her deeply awed and
overjoyed
Where she will never know the freedom she does not ever
desire
Where, as they grow she feels the tug that keeps the
Torch of prayer a-fire
And Hope must bind Her heart and mind or else how could she bear the Must
That unravels a maze of ways to teach Her how to Simply
Trust
© Janet Martin
After sacrificing the bull, they brought the boy to Eli. 26 “Sir, do you remember me?” Hannah asked. “I am the very woman who stood here several years ago praying to the Lord. 27 I asked the Lord to give me this boy, and he has granted my request. 28 Now I am giving him to the Lord, and he will belong to the Lord his whole life.” And they[h] worshiped the Lord there.
1 Sam.1:25-28
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!