My abuela is the saintliest person I know. I spent a large portion of my early childhood in her care, and if I remember anything from that time, it’s her prayers.
She prayed while she cooked. She prayed while she cleaned or folded laundry. She prayed over my sister and me as she put us to bed, telling us Bible stories as if the characters were people we knew. She’d taught herself to read by studying Scripture, and she took Jesus at his word when he said a person should go to their closet to pray (Matt. 6:6). She kept a small stool in there to kneel in intercession for her family or for whatever other burdens she carried to the Lord.
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