I am sitting at the kitchen table with the kids.
We just prayed for our two-month-old friend (by our kids called cousin before) who is in the hospital for surgery.

I ask the kids if it really matters to pray. Does God hear us?
“Oh yes, God can hear everyone!” says one of them, with the greatest certainty.
“Yes, even if 999.000 people pray at the same time!” adds the number fan.
“If half of them just says ‘blah, blah, blah’ real loud, God will still hear it” giggles another.

By now the kids are jumping on the chairs.

“How do you know God hears you when you talk and pray to him?” I ask them, between two jumps.
Obvious of course. We told them, most likely. Or teacher in church or school. Or all of the above.

But do they know? Like, really know?

“Mom, remember when we prayed that A and A got to hold their baby and a few minutes later they got to?”

Yes, I do.

They ask me if I have more examples of times I knew God listened.

I remember them we prayed we all would be healthy before we got on the plane. And how, by a miracle, we were.

And I tell them the story of this week. How Miss L. -and with her many others- have been praying for months now, that God would prepare a community for us. That God would provide.
How by a miracle a man walked by our house earlier this week. I happened to be outside. He stopped and said: “do I hear children speaking English? My kids speak English too!”
How God provided in a way I could not have thought of. This man and his wife and four kids (two boys, two girls) moved back after 7 years in the States to the Netherlands. They are Christians and they life right around the corner! Just a block over. Their kids go to the school which is in our top 3. A school which now has experience with children in early elementary years coming from the States to the Dutch way of reading and education!

While we talk about this miracle Boaz his mind is clearly racing, the evidence of it is all over his face and in his words when he starts to try to put it together. “Who, uh, do you, uh, someone might be praying we have fun in the Netherlands.”

Why, what does make you think so?

He face lights up. His excitement gets bigger.

We have had so much fun here! There was snow! And we got to be on the ice! And the sled! Meeting our cousins! Playing with them! Eating hagelslag! Going on the bus and train! Playing chess and checkers! Meeting those new friends!

Right there. For three full weeks it was right there. In front of me.
A huge miracle.

In spite of a  jetlag. Without an own house. After having said goodbye to all what is dear and familiar to them. In the face of 10.000 unknowns. While everything was new and different. Missing their friends. Their school. Their own toys and books.

In the midst of that. There was so much fun!

And there, at our kitchen table. Between crumbs of bread and lots of fallen hagelslag in all different tastes and colors. With gleaming eyes and a face that radiates with confidence. Our seven year old is so well able to point it out. The miracle. The fun.

The truth. The good. The beauty. Of God listening to and answering prayers.

My hearts lightens. A spark becomes a fire. Joy fills me.

We had so much fun!

If that isn’t an answer. Well, than I don’t know anymore.