The Power of Prayer

Talking with my Dad has always been special to me. I can remember many specific discussions that we’ve had over the years while driving, hiking, or studying the Bible. Our personalities are so similar and we think so much alike that we often communicate with few or no words at all. Sometimes the most meaningful things are said without words. If unsure or afraid, I gain a world of courage by simply tucking my arm into his. A smile or nod could send me to the moon and back, and the pain in his rebuking eyes cuts deep. He’s the only person in the world who has successfully and consistently cured me of hiccups with a simple hug.

And yet, the beauty of our relationship fades in comparison with the love and care that my heavenly Father has shown to me. With open arms He has adopted me, and with divine love He cares for me.

When I have no words to express what I’m experiencing, I pour my heart to my Father in humble surrender. As struggles spill out before Him, He tenderly takes up my burdens and carries them on His own back. Patiently He points out my mistakes and offers me a new heart and a new start. He’s always listening and never too busy to help. No matter where I go, He’s always right by my side and He’s constantly caring for me. Just today, He showed His love to me in a beautiful way.

Ruth left for Austria and Portugal today (she has to visit some family and do a continuing education course). It was hard for us to see her go, and I know it was extremely hard for her to leave too; especially because of Miguel. The way he clung to her and sobbed into her chest broke my heart, and I’m not his mom. I could see agony written across her face as the driver took her to the airport. Paulo stayed calm and encouraging, saying that the time would go fast and soon Ruth would be back, but by the time Ruth had left and it was time for Paulo to go back to work, Miguel was still crying. How in the world was I supposed to get a little boy who’s crying for his mom to finish the school day? I almost gave up right there. Thankfully the Lord was with me.

Miguel had calmed down a little by the time we got up to the school room, but once he had flopped down on the reading pillow for a story that I had to read to him, the dam broke loose again. I know it was the Lord who spoke through me: “Miguel, would you like to pray with me?” He eagerly accepted, and as I began to pray, the change that took place before my eyes was beautiful. The little heaving chest breathed deep and even. The heart-wrenching sobs were quieted, and the quivering lip and wrinkled brow relaxed. I could literally see the peace settle on his face as God’s peace filled his heart. Now I was crying.

That was the end of the battle (for today). From then on, although Miguel often expressed how much he missed his mother throughout the afternoon and evening, it wasn’t with the same hopelessness and grief.  Jesus was carrying his burden, and the peace of Jesus reigned in his heart. Miguel now looked forward to emailing his mom and boasted about how he would talk her ear off once he got her on the phone.

The power of one prayer in easing the life of a little child amazed me today. God’s love for us is so great, and His desire to give us what is good so strong. All we need to do is ask.