When Mom prayed

It is a silver bread warmer that sits most days beside my stove – the same dome-shaped warmer Mom used when I was young. There are a couple of dents on the lid, and the sides are scratched and tarnished from years of use. But those marks only make it more precious to me. They are reminders of a kitchen that was often busy and a mother who was always preparing something for someone she loved. There was always a piece of baked bread waiting inside for someone.
Although it is not used as often as it was in Mom’s kitchen, it still draws me back to the scent of fresh-baked bread and afternoon snacks.
Mom’s biscuits were golden-crusted, fluffy, and layered with a lightness that felt magical. She brought them to the table last, still steaming, just as we were ready to eat. Watching the butter melt into the warm center was a simple joy that marked the close of a day well spent.
Biscuits were her quiet signature – a gift of comfort and love that lingered long after the meal. Even after we all left home and started our own lives, that little warmer was rarely empty. It waited quietly on the counter, holding bread she had made, ready to be warmed.
But Mom had another signature – one that could not be seen or touched. It was woven into the life of our family through the silent prayers she carried to her Heavenly Father. In time, those quiet prayers gained a voice. Whenever we walked out her front door to return home, she would pause, lift us to the Lord, and pray, “Lord, put angels at their wheels and a hedge of protection around them. Take them safely home.”
For years, I thought it was simply something Mom did. I didn’t realize I was being taught one of life’s greatest lessons.
The disciples were learning that same lesson as they walked beside Jesus. They witnessed His miracles, listened to His teaching, and watched Him minister to the endless crowds. They also noticed something else – Jesus often slipped away to be alone with His Father. Jesus knew that before He poured Himself out for others, He needed to spend time with His Father.
What was Jesus showing His disciples, and showing us? Luke tells us that after watching Jesus pray, one of the disciples said to Him, “Lord, teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1). It wasn’t a request inspired by a miracle. It wasn’t prompted by one of His sermons. It came after they witnessed the quiet intimacy Jesus shared with His Father. They saw something in Him that they longed for.
Perhaps that is how prayer is often learned. It is not only taught through words; it is revealed through a life that trusts God. Looking back, I understand Mom was teaching me the same lesson. She didn’t explain prayer; she showed me. When we were beyond the reach of her hands, she placed us into the hands of the One who could go with us wherever we went.
The years have passed, and that silver bread warmer still sits beside my stove. It reminds me of biscuits, family meals, and a mother’s quiet love. But most of all, it reminds me that while the biscuits she made nourished our bodies for a day, the prayers she offered nourished our souls for a lifetime. Mom taught me that prayer is a gift we receive, practice, and pass on.

Pray without ceasing. 1 Thessalonians 5:17 (KJV)

Cheryl Mixon-Cruce is Pastor of Ochlockonee Bay United Methodist Church and Sopchoppy United Methodist Church.