It was Easter weekend in 2003. My small family of three was preparing to move, for the first time, to our little island home in Southeast Asia. My sisters and their husbands had all come together for one last time before our move, both to celebrate Easter and to say goodbye. On our final evening together, our little Abi, age two-and-a-half, told us that we all needed to pray. Her primary request: “I want a pink house when we move!”
Everyone agreed with Abi that we should pray, but as the eight adults prayed, Abi’s request unfortunately was lost. As time passed and evening became night-time, Abi fell asleep on Gramma’s lap. We tucked her into her little bed without waking her, and we all went to bed ourselves. At two in the morning, I was awakened to Abi wailing. “You forgot to pray for my pink house! You forgot to pray!” I tried to reassure Abi that we could pray right then, just the two of us, for her pink house, but she would have none of it. “Wake EVERYONE up! We ALL need to pray!” Finally I convinced her that waking up just Daddy would be enough, and so the three of us prayed—Daddy, Mommy, and Abi—that she would have a pink house when we moved to the island. To be honest, Daddy and Mommy were not praying with much fervour. In fact, the prayer of my mouth said, “Please give Miss Abi a pink house on the island, Father,” but the prayer of my heart said, “I don’t want to live in a pink house, but if we just pray this way, Abi will go back to sleep. Please, let her sleep again, Father!”
Almost two months passed, and we were on our way to our new home. I had forgotten all about Abi’s pink-house prayer, in part because our team leaders had arranged for a house for us, so we had not even had to think about finding a home. We arrived in the city we would be living in after dark, and it was decided that it was too late for us to stay in our own home that first night. Instead we only stopped by the house to drop off our things and then went to stay with our friends in their home. When we got to our new house that night it was very dark, so the house was obscured by the shadows; we simply dropped off our things and left, after making plans to return the following morning.
The next morning, bright and early, we made the trip to our new home once again. We parked on the main road and walked down the small, sloping lane that led to our house. As we turned the corner at the end of that lane, my eyes beheld a shocking sight. In the midst of all the white, tan, pale yellow, and pale blue houses, right before my eyes was a bright PINK house. “Mommy! Mommy! It’s my pink house, it’s my pink house!” Abi squealed. Yes, it certainly WAS her pink house.
Unbeknownst to us, right at the time we were praying about the pink house, our team leaders had begun househunting for us. Just days later, only a few days after the Easter weekend prayer, they had rented the pink house for us. They had not told us what colour it was because they were certain we would be unhappy with a pink house. Honestly, a pink house would not have been our first choice, BUT after seeing our Abi’s reaction to the house, I could not imagine anything more fitting. You see, not only was she thrilled to have a pink house, but her faith in a loving heavenly Father increased that morning as well. “Mommy, God loves me! He gave me a pink house!” For months, that was one of the first things she would mention as she entered into conversations with people.
This answer to prayer also spoke volumes to my heart. As I was heading overseas for the first time, the concerns I had had for myself had all been relatively minor, but I could not help but wonder (and worry at times) about what this big change would mean for our Abi. With this answer to the prayer of her heart, God reassured me completely that He was in control of all the details of our new life, that He not only cared about the seemingly more significant details of life (health, safety, provision of physical needs, protection, etc.), but that He also cared very much about the things that we cared about—even pink houses. Oh, how thankful I am to know the God who cares about things that matter most to me and to those I love!
© 2013 Thrive.
Question to Consider: How have you seen God’s provision in a special way?