A couple of years ago, I joined a group of 4-8 women gathered on Monday mornings in an empty conference room in a suburban church to pray for their twenty-something adult children. The first morning we met, we introduced ourselves, briefly shared a bit about what each of our kids was doing post-college, and whether our offspring were still actively following the Jesus we’d each endeavored to share with them during their growing-up years. I jokingly dubbed us Moms In Touch 2.0 after the prayer groups popular (now renamed Moms In Prayer) when most of our kids were in elementary school. It was in this group I discovered that among a safe community dedicated to interceding for the various messy crises of our kids’ respective launches into adulthood, there are some things that leave us as outliers, even among friends.
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