I was glad the person who requested prayer couldn’t see me crying as I typed my response. . . .

I enjoy volunteering as a prayer partner during City Life’s online services, though sometimes the whole service goes by and no one asks for prayer. But last week, no sooner had I logged-on (the service hadn’t even started yet), when a request popped up. A family had experienced a tragedy, and they really needed God to help them get through it. I instantly knew God had arranged for me to be the one to receive this request because this family’s tragedy is one my own family experienced when I was a teenager.

It felt good to pray with empathy and firsthand knowledge of what this family is going through and what they need. And it has felt good to pray for them a few times a day every day since then. I’ve asked God to bring them to my mind when they need prayer in the days ahead. I love being able to take a painful thing from my own life story and use it to help someone else.

This reminds me of another time when God seemed to want a particular person to pray about a specific need—for someone they didn’t know. . . .

I was attending a women’s bible study at my church. There were a lot of groups, all meeting at the same time in classrooms throughout the church, all doing the same study. I’d never joined one of these groups before, but that semester I had Wednesday afternoons free and I felt motivated to go. I signed up to be in a particular group because I wanted to get to know the leader better, but at the last minute her group became too full and I was bumped into another group.

The leader of my group (I’ll call her “Pam”) was nice, but hard to get to know—she seemed reserved and uncomfortable with letting her guard down. Several weeks into the study, however, she confided to us that she’d tried for years to have a child, and was now in the process of adoption. She said she and her husband had been chosen by a young woman to adopt the child she was carrying. She asked us to pray that everything would go well with the birth and the adoption.

A few weeks later, Pam arrived late for our meeting. She seemed upset. It looked as if she’d been crying, and as if she might begin crying again at any minute. Someone was brave enough to ask if she was okay, and Pam said the birth mother had changed her mind; she was now planning to keep her baby. We prayed for Pam and the birth mother and for God’s will to be done in this situation, but when I left the meeting, I couldn’t let it go; I couldn’t stop thinking of Pam. I was in such emotional pain . . . it was as if I was somehow actually experiencing her distress.

So I did what I always did in moments like that: I called my mother.

My mother knew God and she knew how to pray. She prayed with confidence and authority. When she prayed about a thing, you just knew heaven had heard, and that the answer was on its way. I felt that if I could hear my mother pray for Pam, I’d be able to relax and believe everything would be okay.

But my mom didn’t answer her home phone, and this was before cell phones were popular. I thought about where she might be. I was in Alaska; she was in Pennsylvania, so when I considered the 4-hour time difference and that it was a Wednesday, I realized she’d be teaching a bible study at her friend Helen’s house. I dialed Helen’s number, but found it was no longer in service. She had recently moved, and I didn’t have the new number. So I called Directory Assistance.

Helen’s husband’s name is Jim; their last name is a long, uncommon Irish name—let’s call it “McIrishname,” but I wasn’t sure whether they lived in Doylestown or Pipersville. I tried Doylestown first, and the operator found the number. It never occurred to me that there could be a James McIrishname in both of those towns, so I felt confident I had the right number.

When I called, a man answered. I was instantly confused . . . I knew it wasn’t Helen’s husband. I asked if I could speak to Helen. The man was very nice, and said Helen wasn’t there, but I could talk to Anne. Great! My mom’s friend Anne also attended that bible study . . . I was getting somewhere now. But when Anne got on the line I knew right away it was not the Anne I was expecting.

I was thoroughly confused at this point, but this “Anne” sounded nice, so I introduced myself and explained why I was calling, telling her that I was trying to reach my mother who was teaching a bible study at the home of Jim and Helen McIrishname, because I had an urgent prayer request.

She told me that I’d reached the home of Jim and Anne McIrishname, and that they were at that moment hosting a prayer meeting, so I should go ahead and tell her what the request was.

I was BLOWN AWAY!

What were the odds? A few miles away from each other, husbands with the same name, both leading meetings where prayer was taking place: just unbelievable!

I quickly explained Pam’s situation. Anne paused to take a deep breath and said,

“Katie, you actually called the right number—
because that exact thing also happened to me.
I completely understand what your friend is going through.
Our group will pray now, and I’ll keep praying.”

I was so dazed by what was happening that it didn’t occur to me to ask Anne how her own adoption story had ended . . . whether she’d gotten her baby or not. We said goodbye, and as I hung up the phone I remember standing in my kitchen feeling as if I’d just been picked up by a tornado, spun around, then set down feeling dizzy. This was one of the strangest things that had ever happened to me.

I called my mother when she got home a few hours later and she was pretty amazed, too. But she reminded me that she taught at a different location on Wednesdays, and that her night to teach at Helen’s was Thursdays. As soon as she said it, I knew that I already knew this—and that it was unusual for me to have forgotten.

for some cosmic reason

So . . . if I hadn’t attended a bible study I was never inclined to (or able to) join before; if I hadn’t been reassigned to a group I hadn’t requested; and if I hadn’t forgotten my mom’s schedule . . . none of this would have happened. But for some cosmic reason, God wanted Anne to pray for Pam, and He used me to help make it happen.

Perhaps Anne’s prayers, added to everyone else’s prayers, were what caused the tipping point in Pam’s situation. I’m happy to report that the birth mother decided to go forward with the adoption after all; Pam brought home a beautiful baby girl and, miraculously, less than 9 months later Pam gave birth to another daughter—yes, little did she know, she was already pregnant when she brought her first daughter home!

It was a beautiful story with a classic, bible-worthy, double portion ending, and it was exciting to get to play a part in it.

During this 21 Days of Prayer…

I’m asking God to create more of these supernatural prayer connections—bringing specific needs to people who will pray for them with insight and passion. I know it will not only yield answered prayers, but also grow the faith of both the pray-ees and the pray-ers!

Wrong Number . . . Right Answer!