Every night, our routine unfolds like a habit. Bath time, pajamas, mama’s bed to watch our favorite Bluey episode. Then comes my favorite part, the prayer. Every night my son crawls onto my lap in my bed, lies his head on my chest, I rub his cheek and back and say the same prayer every night. I pray for sweet dreams and comfort.

Then, his daddy scoops him into his arms and carries him into his bed. I begin thinking about everything that needs accomplished prior to work the next morning. Just as I start to settle down I hear his little voice coming out of his room yelling “momma.”

I always walk into his room and say “what baby?” And he says “momma pray.” At first, I will admit, I have gotten frustrated and have thought to myself “honey, we just did this.” Then I take a breath and try to remember what is really happening. My son is not simply attempting to stall bedtime, he feels safe during these prayers. He is asking to be wrapped in his momma’s voice, speaking words to a God that he knows listens.

And that realization truly shifts everything.

If you are a parent you know the anthem of “one more.” One more story. One more hug. One more drink of water. At bedtime, those words can test the last thread of patience that you may have for the day. I am slowly learning that “one more” is not manipulation; it is my son’s way of holding onto connection and that safe feeling for just a little while longer.

Children crave repetition. They love hearing the same story, watching the same movie, or singing the same song, on repeat. This is not because they lack imagination though, it is because it gives them security. The rhythm of repetition becomes the heartbeat of comfort.

When my son asks for me to pray again, he is never asking for new words. He is asking for another dose of security. He is saying “remind me again that God is near. Remind me again that you are here.”

This is a small, sacred ritual that we repeat nightly.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them” Matthew 19:14. He did not roll His eyes at their questions or hurry them away. He made space for them. When I pause my own hurry to pray one more time every night, I am joining that same sacred pause.

Parenthood is full of these in-between moments, where love and fatigue coexist. I adore my child, but some days he truly tests my patience. I can be grateful for bedtime prayers and still crave silence.

When I hear “momma, pray again,” there are nights my body groans before my spirit softens. I whisper, “Lord, help me love him well.” The truth of the matter is, God never sighs at me when I come back again needing to feel that comfort. I ask for peace in the morning and a second time by lunch. I constantly ask for grace then more grace.

Every single time, He listens. He never says to me “We have already talked about this.” Instead, He constantly opens His arms and says to me, “come again.”

The more I reflect on that, the more I see my sons requests in a new light. His longing for one more prayer mirrors my own hearts longing to be reminded that I am not alone, nor will I ever be alone.

I pray that I am helping him form habits, not just for bedtime but for the rest of his life. I pray that one day when life feels uncertain, when he feels overwhelmed with life, maybe he will whisper the same kind of prayer I have been praying over him since the day he was born, only then he will not need my voice to start it.

There is something profound about parenting that mirrors Gods patience for us as His children. As I am learning to respond with gentleness to my son’s repeated needs, I am also learning something about the character of God.

We serve a God of again.

He forgives again. He comforts again. He provides again.

When I return, tired or faith-thin, He never says to me “We just talked about this.” He welcomes me with open arms.

Every time I whisper one more prayer at bedtime, I am living out that truth. I am showing my son what God’s consistency looks like through my own small actions.

It is never about the perfect words; it is all about presence. It is about teaching him that God does not run out of patience, love, or time for us.

When I picture the future, I think of my son grown, tucking in his own child one day. Maybe his child will one day say “daddy, pray again.” If and when that time happens, I pray he will smile, walking into his child’s room, and say that second prayer.

While I pray that I soothe my son and bring him comfort every night, I pray a more important prayer, that I am shaping how he will seek God in the future.

I am not simply teaching him how to pray, I am teaching him that God listens.

If you are reading this with a heart that is tired but tender, this prayer is for you:

Lord, bless the parent who keeps showing up, even when exhaustion whispers louder than grace. Turn their signs into songs and their irritation into joy. Let their homes be filled with laughter, their prayers with peace, and their nights with rest. And when they hear “one more time,” remind them that this is holy ground, where love is practiced in the small, tired moments where heaven still applauds.

If I am being honest, I think God smiles down every time he hears my son’s little voice saying “Momma, pray again.”