I had the same dream three times: Mary, the mother of Jesus, visiting her cousin Elizabeth followed by me visiting a lady from my church whom I barely knew. One Sunday, I happened to exit church beside her, and we started talking. I learned that she was expecting her third child, even though there were no visible signs. She and her family had recently relocated from North India to Chennai, without any relatives nearby, so I offered to accompany her to doctor appointments if her husband was out of town.

 Months passed, and one Easter, I unexpectedly visited her with a chocolate cake. During our short visit, I mentioned my dream about Mary and Elizabeth, praying with them before I left. What surprised me was the little girls’ reactions to my visit, fully glued to their chairs awestruck by the conversation.  I later realized that I was the first person to visit their home in two years, which explained the girls’ amazement at my arrival.

One day, I received a call—she was in labor and needed someone to watch her daughters. The girls were excited, telling me they had been praying for their baby brother, Nathan. I was a bit surprised, as it was a time in India when revealing the baby’s gender was illegal. As they prepared for an emergency C-section, we prayed together. Nathan was born but had to be rushed to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit due to complications from the umbilical cord and meconium aspiration, which soon led to a severe pneumonia in the following days.

When the mother awoke from anesthesia, she thanked me and shared that her family had been praying for a sign to confirm if the baby was a boy or a girl since the time she found out she was pregnant. The visit when I mentioned my dream, she realized it was a boy—just like Elizabeth’s baby, John the Baptist. My visit had answered their prayer. They named him Nathan and have been praying during the entire duration of the pregnancy. I was blown away that my simple obedience meant so much to a family’s cry to God for an answer.

I visited the hospital every day, placing my hands on the glass window of the neonatal ICU, praying over him as he fought for each breath, struggling to survive. One day, as I was getting ready to bring lunch to Nathan’s father, I felt the Holy Spirit urged me to choose a book from my bookshelf. I sensed his hope was fading, especially after the doctors said they had done all they could.

That evening, Nathan’s father called me, almost jubilant, to share that God had confirmed Nathan would survive. In the preface of the book, where the author had dedicated it to his three children—two daughters and a son named Nathan—God spoke to his heart, assuring him that he too would be the father of three healthy children.  Miraculously Nathan made a U-turn to recovery and started breathing normally. That evening, I was finally able to visit him. Holding Nathan’s tiny little toes, watching his tired little chest now breathing softly heaving up and down at a regular pace, I thanked God for his precious life, for watching over His people and listening to every single prayer of those who love the Lord.   He may not answer it at the moment we need it or even in the way we would like it answered but He does know our hearts and hears our cries even if He seems silent.  No one knew that several months down the lane, an excruciatingly difficult testing period would jolt this precious family when Nathan’s life would be at stake, but God knew and prepared for it ahead of time.  

Little did I know that, ten years later, I would discover the writer within me and use my words to testify to God’s glory. He is not a distant God in the heavens, but one who bends down to hear His children cry out from the depths of despair, miry clays and dark valleys, answering their prayers in ways we can never imagine.

Psalm 116:2

“Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath.”