It was a few weeks ago I found myself at home with the boys
for an evening. A night that no doubt
had to be filled with heroes and villains.
An evening in which champions had to learn to share and scoundrels had
to be put in timeout. It's the joy of
being a mother of boys.
Anyway, Benaiah was getting his gang of Buzz, Thomas,
Batman, Jessy and Woody together to fight against the forces of the evil Dr.
Porkchop. But as he was gathering his posse, he gazed at
me and said, "Mommy, where's Woody?"
Woody had been lost for quite sometime and after extensive searches I
knew Woody had to be at someone else's house or even worse, the place where
socks who go missing go. It really
seemed hopeless, but Benaiah is a pretty persistent kid. After five minutes of searching, he kept
asking me where his final star hero was.
I wish my response had been sooner, but sensing his desperation, I
quipped, "Well, bud, you'd better ask Jesus to help you find him because I
have no clue where Woody is".
And before I could finish my thought, Benaiah turns around
and says, "Jesus, please help me find my Woody." Oh how I felt the strings of my heart be
tugged. The faith he had to just ask God
to help him because I told him He would.
Earlier that week, I was reading in a book about a scientist
who was doing an experiment on dementia patients. One of the studies he was doing was to see
how much they could or could not remember depending on past experiences. So the man begins the experiment by walking
in and meeting his patient who had severe dementia. He introduces himself, sits down and talks
with her and leaves after a short little bit.
He repeats the scenario consecutively, each time the woman has
"never met him before". So it
comes time for a test, and when he holds out his hand to greet her, he had a
little pin in his hand that pricked her finger. She let out an "ouch"
and clearly it had caused her pain, even if it was minor. Their conversation
continued to go on as usual. However,
the next time he walked in, her demeanor was very different. She was very hesitant with him and through
many of her behaviors it was evident she didn't trust the man. When asked why, she didn't know why because
as she put it, "had never met him".
This story came to the forefront of my mind as I watched my
little boy go on and play with his evening.
This idea came floating down in my head as I was trying to make sense of
the situation at hand. I heard Benaiah's plea replay in my mind, that I asked
God to listen to Him. "Lord, I
really don't know that in the grand scheme of things this prayer request really
matters to you or even to Benaiah. But
Lord, hearing Him trust me that He could get help from you, well that just gets
me God. That's got to get your heart,
too, doesn't it? He didn't even ask why
like he likes to, God he just in his mind, said, okay and did it. You now God,
it is kind of like that woman that couldn't pinpoint what it was in her past
that made her not trust the doctor, maybe this situation, which Benaiah would
never be able to remember on his own, would only help Him trust you later in his
life. You know I don't want to tell you
what to do, Lord, but I simply, humbly ask, if this prayer request matters, if
this builds his faith, if this builds on what he can comprehend of you, then
Lord, please honor his silly two year old request."
I have learned in my life not to tell God what to do, so I
left my prayer as that. Trusting it as
God saw fit. Benaiah, Bo and I went into the playroom to see how good vs. evil
would play out. Would Dr. Porkchop learn
to share? Would Buzz be able to save his
friends? The suspense was killing me as
I am sure it is you right now.
We played and well, Thomas got derailed, Buzz got kidnapped
and while Jessy and Batman were looking for them, like in good hero fashion, I
opened up a racecar station which hasn't been opened in forever, and there,
crammed in the back, was Woody.
I literally gasped.
Li-char-ally, like a disbelieving fool.
I screamed, "Benaiah!
Look! Look what's in here!"
"It's Woody, mom!!"
"I know buddy, who did you ask to help you find
him?"
"I asked Jesus mom.
Thanks Jesus for helping me find my Woody."
And I am pretty sure in that moment, my faith grew in a way
I didn't know it could. And I learned a lot in that moment.
- God cares about the little things. Even toys. Maybe it's not until we pray about it, that we will get an answer to our requests.
- Every single prayer matters to God and is heard by God. Remember, we thought Woody was lost for good. Even the ridiculous ones from a two year old who won't remember this story, but will know it because I will tell him about it for many years.
- And lastly, God desires to build our faith, whatever spiritual situation we find ourselves in.
Oh, and in case you were wondering what happened to Thomas
and Buzz, thanks to our cowboy friend,
Buzz was found and Thomas continued to deliver his mail around Sodor. And Dr. Porkchop got put in time out.
But more importantly, my son's faith in God was
strengthened, so that one day He can trust God with so much more.
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