He Is Watching Over Them
A word for the mother who prays and waits
There is a particular kind of love that only a mother knows — the love that follows a child into every room they are in, even the rooms you were not invited into. The love that prays in the middle of the night when you do not know where they are. The love that holds on when everything in you wants to let go, and keeps holding when you have nothing left but the name of Jesus.
If you are a mother reading this, this word is for you.
Not for the version of you who has it all together. For the one who sits in church and prays across the distance of choices you did not make and cannot undo. For the one who loves a child who is wandering, doubting, preoccupied — or perhaps simply not yet found.
God saw you there.
I wrote this from a farm recently. Surrounded by the kind of quiet that lets you feel things you have been too busy to name.
There was so much love around me in that place — easy, uncomplicated, safe. And in the middle of all that warmth, something ached. Because the difference between light and dark had never felt so clear. And my heart hurt, quietly and deeply, for my children who are oblivious to the light right now.
I sat with that ache. And then I did the only thing I know how to do.
I gave it back to God. Again. Fresh surrender, open hands.
Lord, I know you are busy. But I choose today to wage war with Your promises over their lives. I will continue to stand in the gap for them — until You call me home.
That is not a small prayer.
And maybe you have prayed something like it too. Maybe not in those words — maybe in a cry that had no words at all. Maybe face down on your kitchen floor, or in the car after school drop-off, or at 2 am when sleep would not come.
He heard you. Every single time.
“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.”
— Matthew 10:29 (ESV)
If He watches over sparrows — every single one, not one slipping through unnoticed — then consider what He says about your child. Your child, who He knit together in your womb. Your child, whose name He called before you did. Your child, who He has not forgotten for a single moment, even in the moments that have made you afraid.
He is watching over them.
Not from a distance. Not with divided attention. With the full, unbroken gaze of a Father who never sleeps, never turns away, and never mistakes your child for someone else’s.
This is the word I believe God is speaking over every mother who is still praying, still standing, still believing what her eyes cannot yet see:
Through every trial of faith your children go through, I will be there to persuade them.
They will have tests, trials, and burdens, but I will uphold them with my hand.
I will lead them with my wisdom and power.
I am watching over them.
I will chase those who stray and convert those who doubt.
I will save those who are lost and invade those who are preoccupied with life.
Every one of your children is under my watchful eye.
Keep praying. Your prayers open the windows of heaven.
Mother, your prayers are not falling into an empty sky. They are entering the throne room of a God who acts — who chases, who converts, who invades the busy life of a child who has no idea He is pursuing them. Every prayer you have ever whispered, wept, or declared over your child has weight in heaven. Not one of them has been wasted.
I know what it is to ask God for something so specific and so tender that it almost feels too personal to say out loud. I asked Him to let me see His redemption and restoration in my family before He calls me home. And then I had to add the hardest five words any mother ever prays:
But not my will — Yours.
That surrender is not weakness. It is the bravest thing a mother can do.
And in the waiting, there is still something for us to do. We do not stand helpless. We stand as light.
I prayed this for myself on that farm, and I pray it for you now: Lord, sanctify my thoughts, my words, and my actions. Because You live in me, I can boldly declare — I am the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Let my life so shine before my children and my family that they will glorify my Father who is in heaven.
We cannot force our children into the light. But we can be it — consistently, quietly, without performance. We can be the thing they keep returning to in their minds when the world goes cold. We can be the evidence that God is real and that He is good.
Our lives are a declaration, even when our mouths are silent.
So today, pray Romans 12:1–2 over them — slowly, deliberately, with the full weight of a mother who believes in what she cannot yet see:
My children will present their bodies as a living sacrifice unto God.
They will not sin with any portion of their body but walk in the holiness of God.
They will not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing of their mind.
My children will prove what the good, the acceptable, and the perfect will of God is for their lives.
In the name of Jesus.
And decree this over them. Speak it out loud. Let your mouth become an altar:
My children shall live with You, stand before Your throne, and serve You day and night.
They will shout Your victories and praise You for their redeemed lives.
Your sanctuary shall be their harbor and home.
You will spread Your tabernacle over them and fill them with Your glory.
Awe shall be their constant companion, worship their sword, and obedience their armor.
They shall always be with You.
You are watching over them.
You are protecting them from every evil influence.
Their capacity to impact those seeking truth shall be irresistible.
They shall shape beliefs and ensure favorable treatment for the unwanted of the world.
Their wealth shall never rust or decay — for it is the wealth of eternity.
You are watching over them.
You are not helpless in this. Prayer is not passive. It is the most powerful act of motherhood available to you — because it reaches places your hands cannot, covers distances your presence cannot bridge, and moves a God who is already moving toward your child.
He is not waiting to be convinced. He is chasing them. He asked you to keep the windows open with your prayers — and you are doing exactly that.
Keep shining. Keep praying. Keep standing.
He is watching over them.
With love and faith beside you,
The Way She Walks
