As night falls, when the hustle and bustle of the day quiets down, I often find myself in the most serene spot in my little house. The soft light from the desk lamp illuminates a face tired yet resolute. I am a mother, and perhaps, nothing could describe my current state of mind more accurately: a mother with grown children.
My children, like everyone else’s, have embarked on their own lives, with their own challenges, joys, and sorrows. Though I am always proud of their independent steps, part of me cannot help but worry, wishing I could shield them from all harm and failure.
Perhaps that’s why my evening prayers have become so precious to me. In the quiet of the night, amidst walls filled with memories, I fold my hands, close my eyes, and pray. I pray for the well-being, happiness, and success of my beloved children. I ask for them to be protected, to be loved, and to always remember the good values their father and I have tried to impart.
Nothing can compare to the love and care a mother has for her children. When they were little, we could hold them in our arms, wipe away their tears, and promise that everything would be alright. But as they grow older, all we can do is send our wishes through prayers, hoping that somehow, the higher power will listen and watch over them.
Every night, as I pray, I also remind myself about patience, resilience, and faith. I understand that each of my children needs space to grow, to learn from their mistakes, and to find their own path. But that doesn’t lessen the care and love I have for them, nor does it diminish the prayers I send up every night.
It can be said that no one prays more fervently than a mother with grown children. In the silence of the night, in the flickering light of the desk lamp, I find strength,
