I have so many God stories of His supernatural provision that I could write 10 books. But Tuesday night I was basking in the beauty of one of my favorite answers to prayer.

My daughter, Salem.

We were in her room, full from birthday cake, waiting for the clock to display 8:38 pm — the time she had been born 12 years earlier. And like all kids, she was asking about who was at the hospital, what was the scoop, what was her story.

“What did Dad do when I was born?”
“He cried.”
“What were you doing?”
“Crying.”
“And Grandmaw and Grandpaw, what were they doing?”
“Waiting anxiously, then crying.”

“Salem, I don’t think you realize how many prayers were sent up for us to have a baby. There was much rejoicing when you were born,” I said.

And with that last comment came a flood of memories. Of churches, of youth groups, and women’s groups. Places where I had shared my story of abortion, heartache and healing. The outcry of these listeners had been to pray for God to bless Chuck and me with a baby.  After Salem was born, I found out that people in my church had quietly prayed that God would heal our hearts and bodies so that we would be able to have children.

Here Chuck and I were walking through the silent and grieving hell of infertility, but God was stirring His saints to pray nonetheless.

Pray they did. And He was pleased to answer.

Looking at this feisty, strong willed, solemn warrior-child before me, I was really amazed again at the mercy of God.

My thoughts turned toward heaven when I will see all those people who prayed for us, who never saw us again and never heard the rest of the story. When I see them in heaven, I can’t wait to introduce them to Salem, the answer to their prayers.

Oh pray without ceasing, believing that He hears our cries and intercessions.

“The prayers of the saints are like sweet smelling incense.”