The bathroom light casts a warm glow as I settle into the recliner beside Mama’s bed. “You don’t have to do this every night, Dawn,” she murmurs, though her eyes say otherwise. Her frail body sighs with relief as we begin our nightly ritual. Praying with my aging parent wasn’t a nightly routine I imagined, but life has a way of flipping the script. In this sweet role reversal, I’ve discovered an everyday sacred that nurtures both our spiritual and mental well-being.
Praying with my aging parent has become a sacred moment, a touch of heaven in the ordinary.
No one prepares you for the quiet intimacy of praying over the woman who once prayed over you. Yet, in these moments, holiness emerges. A simple ritual has become a space where love and faith intertwine, transforming the ordinary into holy ground.
