Lent. A time for reflection, for an honest accounting of our relationship with God. A season that serves as a spiritual reset for a forgetful soul—like mine—a reminder of everything God has rescued me from and yet how easily I can take that salvation for granted.
Growing up, Lent wasn’t a major focus in my life. Sure, we had the bunny rabbit, the Easter eggs, and the big ham dinner, but the deeper meaning? The forty days leading up to Jesus’ death and resurrection? It barely registered. If anything, Lent was just something I associated with the occasional fish fry Friday (which, let’s be honest, were (and are) delicious).
But as I moved into adulthood, I started seeing God’s work in my life in ways I couldn’t ignore. After the birth of my son, something shifted. I needed to know Him more, to build my life on a foundation of faith, to center my role as a wife and mother around Christ.
At first, I followed the traditional approach—I gave something up. The idea, of course, was to experience a small discomfort and use that struggle as a reminder to pray, to rely on God’s strength instead of my own. And while it did help me grow in prayer, I eventually realized my Lenten practice wasn’t really stretching me. It stayed safely inside my comfort zone, tucked neatly within my daily routine.
Until this year.
This year, I felt called to do something different. Something that didn’t just take something away from my life but added to it in a way that brought me closer to God.
This idea wasn’t entirely my own. My best friend, Jayme, unknowingly inspired me. I was having a particularly rough week—overwhelmed by work, stress, and just life in general. She and I had started a habit of asking each other how we could pray for one another in the mornings. But on this particular day, after I shared my prayer request, she did something unexpected.
She didn’t just say she’d pray for me later. She bowed her head and prayed for me.
Out loud.
Right in the middle of our conversation.
Hearing her speak to God on my behalf floored me. It shifted something inside me. It turned my whole day around. And I knew instantly—I needed more of that. ASAP.
So I started my Lenten addition method. And let me tell you—the first few days were hard. I’m an introvert (unless you know me well), and asking someone face to face how I could pray for them felt daunting. It’s so much easier to discuss the weather or swap stories about our kids than to ask someone to be vulnerable.
But each time I stepped out in faith, something incredible happened.
At first, it was just my best friend. Then, I felt the pull to ask a mother on the street, standing with her child. Each time, my heart pounded. Each time, I questioned myself.
And each time, I was honored by their response—by their trust in me to carry their worries and joys to God alongside them.
I can only hope this small act has made an impact in their lives because I know it has profoundly changed mine. It has deepened my faith, made me bolder, and reminded me of the sacredness of human connection.
Every time I lift these prayers up, I feel myself drawing closer to Him over these forty days.
It’s simple. Yet, it’s profound.
So, I’ll ask you: How can I pray for you?
