The Prayer God Refused to Answer

She was the first of my babies who cried day and night. 

Before she was planted in my womb, I’d begged the Lord for just one more. 

But six weeks after bringing Hannah Faith home, I’d revised my plea. 

Could I just have a different one, Lord? Maybe one with fewer tears?

It was three o’clock in the morning and I was feeling bold.
Or foolish.
Or just plain tired.

I hadn’t slept more than an hour a night since my third-born had arrived, and as I paced the halls with my screaming infant, I began to wonder if I would live to see her first birthday.

Could a woman die of sleep-deprivation? Or from unbridled desperation?

Snow swirled in graceful flakes beyond my window, the white crystals shimmering like fairy dust in the waning starlight. When morning came, we’d flip the calendar to a new year. We’d speak of resolutions and fresh starts, of new ambitions and yearly plans, but all I wanted on that dark December night was a new baby.

“Lord, I’m dying here! I just want my baby to stop crying!
I want her to coo and smile.
I want her to sleep peacefully in my arms instead of writhing in discomfort.
Come on, Jesus, I know you could change her right now.
Make her new, Savior.
PLEEEEEEEEASE…“

I held my breath and waited for the wails to stop.

And then I heard it clearly- a reply above the cries.

I don’t need to make your daughter new. She’s the one I’ll  use to make YOU new.

I cried right then and there in that bleak black hour and I told God that I didn’t want to be made new; I just wanted to sleep.

And tenderly, He answered, But I sent this child to wake you up.

“I know that, Lord. I haven’t slept since she slid into this world.”

Just trust me, the Creator of my soul whispered. Just trust me.

And so I paced the halls by night and stumbled through the motions by day, and in time, I forgot all about that conversation we’d shared- the Lord and I- in the hallway of that little house in Lincoln, Nebraska.

Until one night six years later, when I sat on the edge of Hannah’s bottom bunk and listened to her muffled cries. She had buried her head in her pillow and let the tears fall like a soft summer’s rain. This time I couldn’t carry her in my arms and pace the hallway while she wailed.

This time, I couldn’t jostle and fuss and burp the little girl with trembling shoulders.

I could just sit climb in that bed beside her and wrap her in a hug.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” I’d prodded, my hand smoothing away the wet strands of hair matted to her forehead. “Why are you crying?”

My third-born’s mournful groans had morphed into ragged snuffles, and finally; she’d lifted her head and looked me in the eye.

“My heart hurts so bad for kids who don’t have mommies or daddies to tuck them in at night.”

I stared at my red-eyed daughter and tried to make sense of what she’d said.

“You’re feeling bad for orphans?”

She nodded and flopped her head back onto her damp pillow with a sigh.

 I reached for the tissue box and prayed for the words that might ease the burden weighing on my daughter’s tender heart.

But, there in the silence, God didn’t give me any words. 
He began to break my heart instead.

Despite the nine years we’ve shared, I haven’t found a solution to end my daughter’s tears.

She still cries for mommy-less children in Zambia.
And childless mommies in Uganda.
She still aches for lonely kids in China and for hungry children in Haiti.

And although a wise doctor lives right under our roof,  I still haven’t found a band-aid for my daughter’s aching heart.

But I have discovered more intimately the heart of the One who comes to her aid when the tears start to flow.

And I am learning first-hand that God can use a child’s tears on sleepless nights to wake up her mommy’s numb and apathetic heart.

Wake up to a globe beyond soccer games and dance classes, band lessons and carpooling….

Wake up to a world filled with both hunger and hope….

Wake up to a God who woos the broken and the brash…

Thanks to my sweet girl, I’m learning that if I let God break my heart with what breaks His, He will take all those shattered pieces of me and put them back together into something beautiful and new. 

Something that in the end, might just look a bit like a nine-year-old darling I know.

Happy Birthday, Hannah Faith! I’m glad God didn’t answer my prayer on that night long ago. I wouldn’t want Him to change a single thing about you, dear daughter. I love you!


The Overflow: Blessed are those who mourn,  for they will be comforted –Matthew 5:4

 

*It seems so fitting that today, on Hannah’s birthday, some of my favorite bloggers are in Peru, witnessing firsthand Compassion International’s ministry to children in the highlands near Lima.  

Their stories are amazing.

And so is our God who loves all the children of the world.

Won’t you take a moment to let God break your heart for His little ones in Peru? And put you back together again in a beautiful way? 

Head on over here and walk along with these faithful bloggers as they embrace the world with the love of Christ.


Consider it a birthday gift for Hannah. 
Or an early Christmas present for yourself. 

Because, in the end, that’s what God wants to give us most… the gift of a heart like His.

Sharing God-Bumps in community once again with Jennifer and all the other God-seekers at Getting Down With Jesus.