God is good at answering prayers. We are not always good at recognizing the answers. God is merciful to me and it seems that at the times I need it most his hand is visible and the answers are real.
Two days ago, I had one of these answers. Five o'clock is rush hour . . . it's rush hour not only in the streets but in our home as well. It's also our infant son Joshua's fuss hour. I was rushing he was fussing. George was hungry and hollering. My husband Jimmy was trying to fix and internet problem over the phone and asked me if I could keep things quiet for him. When I finally got the food in place and the boys were in their chairs and ready-- I felt frazzled and desperate. I couldn't hear myself think and I felt dangerously close to losing it. I bowed my head and prayed, "Father in Heaven. Thank you for the food. Please bless it and help me not go crazy." I felt angry and abandoned. My prayer was brusque-- almost a dare for God to come and intervene . . . I didn't think He could make it better.
As I prepared to do battle with feeding George and fight his autistic food aversions, I stopped. In all the noise and commotion I hadn't noticed my sweet little Sam get up from the table, but he was there now . . . at my side, wrapping his little arm around my waist and standing on his tippy-toes to kiss my cheek. There was my answer. There was the hand of God reaching out through the love of my little boy . . . and I could see it. After months of not feeling God's love, I could feel it . . . as sure, as strong, as real as my little boy's kiss.
Thank you Lord.
And thank you Sam.