Reflection for August 7

My parents prayed with us a lot when we were little…. Most nights, after we were fed and bathed and jammied and tucked in, my dad went from bed to bed, put his hand on our heads, and blessed us.

I never consciously planned to continue this practice, but when my first daughter was born it seemed the thing to do. Now she’s two, and it’s an established part of her bedtime routine, something she reminds me to do if I forget. Not that she reliably appreciates the blessing—half the time she squirms and resists it, or tries to negotiate for a song or a story instead. Yet she’s decided that peace and amen are her lines, not just mine, and when we get to those parts she invariably stops fighting it and chimes in (Steve Thorngate, “Blest and Kept,” The Christian Century, August 3, 2016).