Have you ever gotten to the point where you couldn’t pray about something anymore? For two years after we married, my wife, Angie, and I prayed to have a baby. But nothing happened.
I felt helpless. What was the point of all our prayers? Why keep hoping, only to be disappointed? We took the next step and made an appointment at a fertility clinic. We underwent all the tests. The doctors recommended IVF, or in vitro fertilization. Even with insurance, it would still cost us $10,000. Out of pocket.
I walked out of that clinic feeling completely defeated. How were we going to cover an expense like that? Angie still might not get pregnant. We would be right back where we started—except broke.
Then a friend from church had a suggestion for Angie and me: “Get Pastor Rosalie to pray for you.” Pastor Rosalie had evidently prayed for someone else in church who had been hoping for a baby and the woman conceived almost immediately.
“Sure,” I said to Angie, “let’s talk to Pastor Rosalie.” I didn’t say what I really thought: that it could be one more dead end, one more chance for our hopes to be dashed.
After a Wednesday evening Bible study, we stopped Pastor Rosalie in the hall and explained our situation.
“I’ll pray for you right now,” she said. I thought maybe we’d go into her office or back into the sanctuary, but, no, we stood right there in the hall together and closed our eyes. Pastor Rosalie put her hands on Angie’s stomach.
Pastor Rosalie has a scratchy voice—probably from years of preaching—and an indomitable spirit. “Father, we ask that you bless this family,” she prayed. “We believe in prayer and believe in the power of prayer. We know you are with us, and we know you love Angie and Brian….”
My mind wandered. I was thinking about money, specifically about that $10,000 and how much more money we’d need if we had to adopt. There’d be no end to it. Then I realized where we were. I opened my eyes for a moment and saw my beautiful wife, so full of faith, with Pastor Rosalie praying over her.
“Amen,” Pastor Rosalie finally said. “Amen,” we repeated. Pastor Rosalie gave Angie some oil that had been blessed to rub over her stomach. “I want you to pray every night and keep praying. There’s a baby in there.”
There’s a baby in there. I wanted so badly to believe it. I didn’t want to have any doubts, but I couldn’t help it. I could feel Angie’s hopes, so real they were tangible. If we believed that a baby was in there, there had to be one. But the believing part, that was almost impossible.
I didn’t tell Angie this, but finally I just stopped praying for a baby. I let go. God knew the desires of our hearts. What would be, would be. I had to have faith. Whatever happened, Angie and I loved each other, and we’d be happy even if she didn’t conceive. We were meant to be together, and that was what was important.
Not long after that, I came home one day to find Angie waiting for me. She immediately threw her arms around me. I could feel her heart racing. “Guess what?” she finally said. She held out the little stick from the pregnancy test she had just taken. “I’m pregnant.” There was a baby in there. Just as Pastor Rosalie had said. We didn’t have to spend a cent at the fertility clinic.
Nine months later, Angie gave birth to our son, Gabriel. Our family of two became a boisterous family of three. Gabriel is now two and a half years old, a bundle of energy. At the playground, I love pushing him on the swing or hoisting him on the slide, hearing him squeal as he comes down.
Someday, I’ll tell him how he was an answer to prayer, a true child of faith.
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