Last year I wrote how God wooed me as a child. I promised a series of these retellings. Well, here’s the next one in the collection, only next generation:
On a rainy January day (many years ago, as Josiah was age 9 and Andrew age 1), the five kids and I hopped in our Suburban and drove most of an hour to my mom’s place. The plan was to clean her home and encourage her in a tough time. She didn’t know we were coming. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when the house was dark and locked.
“Now what?”
“She has a key hidden somewhere,” Josiah offered speedily.
That’s right! We all searched the upper deck near the entry for the metal hide-a-key box. Jesse reached around an antique milk jug and came up with it. Dripping wet, and likely rusted shut, it resisted his young fingers. We all tried. Eventually the key came shooting out and launched from the second story deck where we stood gaping. We darted down the exterior stairs and stared into a sea of ivy, under the porch.
“Don’t step in the ivy,” I said, “or we’ll lose it for good.” We examined the green tangle from the grassy edge, peering from different angles to view the metal key. “We’ve got to pray.” The enormity of what we were facing dawned on me. In a blink, one of the kids would be hungry, another would have to use the bathroom, or the baby would need to nurse. And we were stuck outside, in the rain—miles from civilization.
We prayed, and I’m serious—the moment we opened our eyes Micah called, “Found it!”
Known for being the jokester in the family, I didn’t believe him. But he reached into the snarled, leafy mess and unearthed something. Dirt-streaked fingers opened, and there it was—the silver key, wet and gleaming. We climbed the stairs in wonder. Is it the right key? Did God really just—BOOM—show him like that?
With one turn of the lock, our trust deepened. Once inside, we snacked freely from Grandma’s cupboards and cleaned with new energy. Mom eventually came home, and we relived the moment of awe with her.
It’s times like these that renew our hope and trust in the living God. He cares about our frailties.
Here’s an ax mishap story from 2 Kings 6:5-7:
But as one was cutting down a tree, the iron ax head fell into the water; and he cried out and said, “Alas, master! For it was borrowed.”
So the man of God said, “Where did it fall?” And he showed him the place. So he cut off a stick, and threw it in there; and he made the iron float.
Therefore he said, “Pick it up for yourself.” So he reached out his hand and took it.
My family has dozens of stories like this one that have built our faith over the years. I’m sure you do, too. Please write back to share one with me. It would be a tremendous encouragement.
Oh, to let our children see God in the everyday! He is good, and He desires to be brought in to our daily lives, even when—especially when—we make mistakes. He is our Hero. Let’s ask and believe. The next generation will be changed by His glory.
For the Generation who seeks Him,
Melinda Poling
Love this story, Melinda. I have a similar story—when our youngest was 8 we moved & in the move his wallet was lost. He’d recently received it & put his birthday money in it. We prayed & for 2 weeks, nothing. But our son was convinced God would give it back to him! The next day, it was discovered, stuck in something. God is good & the kids experienced it in a way that meant something to them!