"And they shall also teach their children to pray, and to walk uprightly before the Lord."
Most nights I don't feel like I'm teaching my two youngest boys anything about prayer. Even when I do manage to convince them to get on their knees and fold their arms, they start driving toy cars around the living room or tackling each other as soon as the prayer starts.
But Wednesday night, my five-year old proved to me that he is indeed learning.
We discovered on Monday that our home's well water was contaminated so my husband and our neighbor had to clean the well and treat it with chlorine. On Tuesday we were able to turn the water back on, but the water had too much chlorine in it to consume. As my husband and I were headed out to celebrate my birthday, we gave our children strict instructions to only drink from the water bottles we had filled at my parents' house.
When we arrived home, in the madness of getting our children ready for bed, Cyrus came running to me, a look of sheer panic on his face.
"I accidentally drank some of the yucky water!"
I assured him that a little bit, especially since it had come out of our filtered water spout, wouldn't hurt him. He'd be fine.
Later that night, after Cy had fallen asleep, I learned that his older brother had told him and the other young boys that if they drank the water, they'd die. No wonder Cy was scared to death. But since he seemed okay with things, I dismissed the thought.
Until Wednesday evening when Cy again approached me.
"Mom. Sometimes Secada prays."
"That's good." I didn't turn away from my computer screen.
"Sometimes I pray. I prayed last night."
"Oh. What did you pray for?" Again, I gave him only a small portion of my attention.
"That I wouldn't die."
That got my attention. My little Cy-Cy had been afraid he was going to die, and in his fear, he knew enough to turn to his Heavenly Father. I wrapped him in a hug and tried not to let him see my tears.