Adoption

 I stood in the foyer of church as people rushed by in crowds. Some stopped to say hello or introduce someone to me and shake hands. I turned around. I don’t usually remember dreams but this was clear.The pastor was behind me leaning against a table. He asked about my hurt leg. I told him I had a doctor’s appointment later that day.

          He said, “Don’t go. We already have the answer.” Then he showed me a typed paragraph. “We prayed.” The paragraph multiplied or copied down to many more. Laughter. Looking up to heaven, he said, “You can stop sending angels now, we have enough.”

             Of course, I had just watched “Angels in the Outfield” with my niece before I went to bed. And I don’t have a hurt leg, but the message was clear. I had earnestly prayed for a permanent home for my daughter Mistie’s foster baby Christian, and I had been led to fill out a prayer card at church a few weeks before. (I seldom do that) Now, I knew that I should let people know that their prayers had been miraculously answered.

I was beginning to think my prayer for Christian must have been very powerful and really made a difference. J But then, my daughter and her family had prayed, the family wanting a baby had prayed and people at church had prayed. It was like a chain of prayers. One obedience had led to another, each prayer vitally important. And within two weeks, baby Christian was placed with a wonderful, already-qualified Christian family who wanted him very much. My prayer was important. It was one of the links in a long chain of prayers.