When my kids were younger, I made up a simple tune to Numbers 6:24-26–the priestly blessing–and sang it to them as a bedtime prayer. I still sing it occasionally, even though they’re in middle school and high school now, and they look at me with an awkward mix of “I’m way too old for this, Mom,” and “Please don’t stop.”
Not long ago as I sang, a lump came to my throat. The tears weren’t for my own kids this time, but for all the boys without moms to sing blessings over them at night. For those who don’t get tucked in and prayed with and sung about. I cried for the hundreds of thousands of boys with no one to ask the Lord’s protection and grace and peace.
It’s not okay that so many are lost to a world where fears are constant and nightmares are reality. It’s not okay that hurt and mistrust and shame are second nature to these boys. It’s simply not okay, so we work together and raise money and intercede to God on their behalf. We know the story must change, and so, we sing for them.
The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine upon you
and be gracious to you.
The Lord turn his face toward you
and give you peace.