One night during family prayer, our 3 year old daughter, Calan, asked God to give her a brother named George. Kneeling nearby with our 13 month old daughter, Cauriana, I stole a glance at my husband, Craig. He was looking at me with wide eyes and we both chuckled.
When Cauriana was born, she came into the world demanding a manicure and a massage. High maintenance was her calling card. She would only take twenty minute naps and scream during the rest of our waking hours. If I wasn’t holding her, I was feeding her. And if I wasn’t feeding her, I was changing her diaper. And if I wasn’t changing her diaper, I was trying to figure out what was causing her ear splitting screams.
While I tended to Cauriana, I also tried to give proper attention to Calan by reading to and playing with her. I was exhausted! All the time!
So when Calan prayed for a brother, I decided to help God out. After all, this prayer would not be answered in the way she hoped so I was a bit concerned that it would crush her childlike-size-of-Texas faith.
I gently explained although God is in control of all things, He does let us have a bit of control over some things. And her dad and I definitely had some control over whether or not she would have a little brother and it wasn’t going to happen, nope, no way, no how, nada, not happening! Okay, maybe it wasn’t so gentle. But I was panic-stricken.
Calan didn’t seem to notice or care so I felt we dodged a bullet.
The next day, I began to feel strange. In the early afternoon, I stopped in my tracks as I realized the only times I had felt this way was when I was pregnant. I immediately looked up toward the sky and said/yelled, “NO WAY!!”
I sped to the store and bought a home pregnancy test. By this time, you’ve already finished this story in your head. And you would be right. The stick turned pink. I was pregnant.
I was shocked. Craig was shocked. Calan was not. Calan said, “Of course you have a baby in your tummy. It’s a boy named George.”
During the entire pregnancy, she never deterred from, “It’s a boy named George.” Even when we tried to reason with her saying it could be a girl, she would respond, “Nope! It’s a boy named George.”
When delivery day came, lo and behold, we had a boy. I was shocked. Craig was shocked. Calan was not.
We called Craig’s parents house where the girls were staying to give them the good news. I said to Calan, “You were right! We had a boy! But honey, his name isn’t George. It’s Colby.” She said, “No it’s not! It’s George!”
She had been right about everything else so I was ready to rip the birth certificate from the nurse’s hand to ensure I had named our little boy Colby and not George.
Calan insisted on calling Colby, “George,” for the first week of his life. She finally conceded after that and began calling him, “Colby George.”
Today is Colby’s 12th birthday. And we are extremely blessed God answered Calan’s prayer. At least the “brother” part. And Calan has finally dropped the “George” from his name.
Calan’s special prayer taught me I never need to try to “explain” God. And I definitely don’t take credit for having control of things I do not.
So now when the kids pray for outrageous things that scare us, we let them.
Then Craig and I pray against them. It’s the “battle of the prayers” at the Johnson household.
Yep, praying kids are scary! But it just adds to this adventure we call life.
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©2013 Connie Davis Johnson