🌸 Every Morning for Seven Years I Prayed for Her New Boyfriend
It felt weird. I did it anyway. Here is what grew.
From: Chula Vista, California — just west of Otay Lakes
Hey — It’s Luis.
In the summer of 2018, my marriage ended. That fall I took my daughter Gemma — four years old — to a Hillsong Worship concert.
The next morning, she looked at me over breakfast.
“Papa. When I grow up, I want to sing with the worship team at church.”
My heart stopped. In the best way.
We had been separated since June. Her mom had already started a new relationship. My heart had just been cut in half.
Two things at once
Maybe you know what it feels like to hold two things at once.
The joy of your child’s voice. And the weight of everything falling apart underneath it.
Maybe you are reading this in a season where you are doing everything right — showing up, holding it together, keeping it moving — and it still feels like winter. Like the ground is frozen. Like nothing is growing, no matter how much you give.
I was there. For a long time.
Strange and small
In that moment — Gemma’s little voice still in my ears — God gave me something I did not ask for.
A vision.
Gemma on a worship stage. Singing. And her mom walking through the doors of the church to watch her.
I sat with that picture for a long time. Because I knew what it meant.
I could not be the obstacle standing between her mom and that door.
Not through bitterness. Not through the story I kept telling myself about what had happened and who was to blame. If I held onto that, I would poison the very thing God was showing me.
There is a scripture I held onto in that season. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 7:
“God has called us to make the best of it, as peacefully as we can. You never know, husband: The way you handle this might bring your wife not only back to you but to God.”
You never know.
I did not know. I still do not know. But I was not willing to make it harder.
So when God convicted me to make peace — not just feel peace, but make it — I understood why.
It was still the hardest thing I had ever been asked to do. Home was different now. But I had been freed from alcoholism. And a mentor once looked me in the eye over coffee and said something I could not shake:
“He who receives much forgiveness, forgives much.”
I had received so much grace I did not deserve. How could I withhold it?
So the next morning, I picked up my kids. We drove to school. And I started something that felt strange, small, and almost embarrassing.
I led us in prayer.
“Dear Heavenly Father, we pray for Mama and her boyfriend.”
It felt weird. My flesh resisted every word. But I trusted God more than I trusted my feelings.
So we kept praying. Every morning. My kids in the backseat. Seed after seed after seed.
A debt no one can repay
Jesus tells a story about a king who forgives a debt so large it could never be repaid. Then that same man walks out and grabs his neighbor by the throat over something small.
I have thought about that story more times than I can count.
Because I know what it is like to hold someone by the throat. Not literally. But in your mind. In the story you keep telling yourself about what they did and what they owe you and why you are still waiting for an apology that is never coming.
That grip does not hurt them. It only hurts you.
James 3:18 says:
“A harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.”
You cannot rush a harvest. You prepare the soil. You plant the seed. You trust God with the rest.
The harvest — and what is still coming
Last year, my son Henri was in a tennis match. He hurt his ankle early on. He was losing. Then he came back and won.
His mom and I both watched from the stands.
We walked to the parking lot together afterward.
She said out loud —
“Your dad and I are friends again.”
I smiled. “I never stopped being your friend.”
She laughed. “Well, I did… huh.”
Thanksgiving 2025, she sat at my brother’s table. On Christmas Eve, she was with us again. Christmas Day I was invited to her sister’s house.
It took seven years.
Seven years of grace upon grace. Forgiveness upon forgiveness. Morning prayer after morning prayer in a car with two kids who had no idea what their dad was planting.
In March, I picked up my kids from their mom’s house. While I waited for them to get ready, she offered me breakfast.
But the vision is not finished yet.
Gemma has not stood on that stage. Her mom has not walked through those doors.
That is still coming. And I am still planting.
What I want you to do this week
Who are you holding by the throat?
Take inventory. Recognize they can never pay you back. Then cancel the debt — and free yourself in the process.
Think of one person you have been holding at arm’s length. You do not have to call them. You do not have to forgive them completely today. Just pray for them once. By name. Out loud.
That is the seed. It will feel weird. Do it anyway.
Come into this season with clean hands and a soft heart. Trust God with what grows.
What is the seed you have been planting that you haven’t seen break ground yet?
Leave a comment and tell me. I am reading.
🌸 Happy Grace,
Luis
P.S. Who came to mind just now? You don’t have to tell me who. Just notice that they did.