The Smallest Prayers

For the last several months, we have been teaching Will to pray.  At our mealtimes, we ask him what he wants to talk to Jesus about today.

His answers?

Papa.

Chicken.

Baby Yoo-eee (Lewie - his newest cousin).

Every single time.  For months.

"Hey, Champ!  What should we talk to Jesus about tonight?"

"Papa!"

"Okay!  What else?"

"Kick-in!"

"Sure!  We'll thank Jesus for chicken - you love chicken nuggets, don't you?  Anything else we should pray to Jesus about?"

"Baby Yoo-eee."

"Okay.  Good deal.  Let's pray..."

Months passed, and we laughed a little bit every time Will asked to pray for chicken.  We thought it was cute.  He loves chicken nuggets, so we assumed it was one of the first things he thought of at the supper table.

Except he prayed for chicken every day.  And we do not have chicken nuggets every day...or even close to every day, for that matter.

And then things changed.

Just lately, Will has only mentioned that he's wanted to pray for Papa and Baby Lewie - no chicken.

"Huh," I thought to myself.  "I guess he's moved on.  What a funny guy."

And, then it hit me...

I was absentmindedly listening to MPR (Minnesota Public Radio) today and amongst the reel of hourly news updates, I heard something along the lines of, "There are no new avian flu cases to be reported, quarantine zones are being lifted and chicken farmers are beginning to restock their facilities..."

And then I remembered this New York Times article, posted last month:

Egg Farms Hit Hard as Bird Flu Affects Millions of Hens

A couple of months ago, our little rural town was trying to wrap its mind around the devastation that had hit our local egg and chicken farm.  Thousands and thousands of hens died, workers were struggling to dispose of the waste, keep the virus under control, and wondering if they would have a job in the future.  Truckers and farmers and ag businessmen were worried.  Fear was thick.  Prayer meetings were called and our city cried out for an end to the avian flu.

And, unbeknownst to me, all along, my little 24-month-old Will was praying, too.  "Jesus, help kick-ins." Put an end to the avian flu...

And the Lord heard and answered.

So then, lo and behold, Will knew he could stop praying for the chickens

And today, MPR caught on with reports of cancelled quarantines.

So, let it be known - the smallest prayers are not small at all.  Our great, strong, powerful and mighty Deliverer moves heaven and earth in partnership with the tiniest sound of, "Jesus, help!"

Let it be known - our children do not have a "junior" Holy Spirit.  The fullness of the Holy Spirit moves and calls and uses even our littlest ones for His great purposes.