Psalm 6:8-9 The Lord has heard my weeping...the Lord accepts my prayer.
It was one of those days that breeds dread in the heart of every middle school parent. Tryouts. All I wanted was for her to make the team. It didn't matter to me if she ever set foot on the court as long as she was with her friends.
Tryouts concluded with an envelope passed to every girl. We walked to the car to a symphony of ripped paper, shouts of celebration and mournful sobs. My daughter wanted privacy. She didn't open her envelope until we reached the safety of my SUV. Nervous but silently praying for a yes, one final envelope was opened. The letter was a no. The texts came rapidly. Each report was the same. My daughter's friends were smiling. She was crying.
Today I am reading Psalm 6. David must be having a really bad hair day. Maybe he even broke a fingernail because he is in a particularly bad mood. I don't think that's the stuff that fuels a manly king's tears but something has him downcast and blubbering.
I don't know why I took my daughter's no so hard. She was over it the next day but I just kept right on crying. I didn't understand why God would allow her to be the only one of her friends not to make the team. Had He not heard my prayers?
The truth is He did. About five years ago, I dared to begin praying radical prayers for my daughters. I prayed that God would do whatever it took to draw them into a deep, abiding relationship with Him. I prayed that trials would come into their life because during trials our faith grows exponentially. God answered my prayers.
It's been three years since the day my daughter didn't make the team. Her faith has grown incredibly. This summer she isn't a pool junkie or a camp hopper. She's an intern at our church, pouring her life out in the Children's ministry. Her burning passion is for kids to know her Jesus. Her faith has been made real.
I don't know what happened with David the day he wrote this Psalm but I can declare with certainty that his faith grew as a result of his pain.
Jesus, today I dare to pray a radical prayer not just for my kids but for myself. Try us. Stretch us. Grow us. In the valley of tears, I see You most clearly. When I weep, I will remember the priceless gift given every Valley Girl - growth.