Part II

December, 2016

Dear Wendy,

You have no idea who I am. You probably don't even remember my name. I remember yours though. I wrote it down. God told me that it was going to be important. So I wrote it down.

You called me on accident. I was sitting in my office late one dark December night. Up in New York they were doing Christmas Calls and since all of our phones have the same source number; when you tried to return their call it came to me.

After briefly explaining the mishap, as I had done with a few other callers--I felt lead to ask you if you needed prayer. You said yes and this is awful, but I can't even pinpoint what your need was. You had a lost family member who needed Jesus. I think it was your dad.

I prayed for him I promise, I did.

But that's not what made me remember your name.

You asked me what I needed prayer for.

I had been asked this before, but only a couple of times. Usually I said something general like, "patience". Something that we all need.

This time I was alone in the dark office, Christmas lights doing a dance all around the windows. Before I knew what was happening I said, "Well. I want a baby."

I choked up while saying it because I don't know if I had ever really said it like that.


Sure, I had screamed about how my body was cursed and how I was a shame to women because of my inability to do what every woman should be able to do. I had said nasty things to Daniel and to God. Out of anger and spite I had spewed words of discontent and of a hard heart. But I had never simply just told someone, "I want a baby."

So when I said it, it sounded strange.

You replied, not knowing the monumental exchange that had just taken place.  "That's wonderful. The world needs more good parents to raise up their children right. I will pray for that for you, Emily."

And I know you did.

Sometimes I pray with people right there on the phone. But we didn't that night. I think I was still a little shell shocked.

You must have prayed for me though. I felt it immediately.

I felt all warm and fuzzy and blown away.

You prayed for me, sure--but whats greater than that is that you helped me to put my guard down a little bit.

For the first time I felt like I could talk openly to people about this issue that had been plaguing me for so long.

I was such a silent shell of a person from stitching my mouth shut and being afraid. But now I could talk.

I could talk to my sisters, I could post inside my support group, I could talk to my husband. Not just when things got really bad and I began screaming. No. Updates about my health concerns. Info about my body. Info about my disease.

All things that I hadn't really wanted to discuss.

For the first time, I asked Daniel to come with me to a Drs appt. I finally felt like we were a team.

So much of that is because of you, Wendy. You and your simple question of what was on my heart.

Your  prayer for a perfect, crazy stranger.

I'll probably never speak to you again. I would have no way of knowing if I ever did.

So I thought I needed to write you this letter.

Its out there and maybe somehow; God in all his wisdom, will help you find it.

Maybe not.

But that's not really the point.

The point is, that you did something small for someone that night and I believe it changed my life.

And I felt the need to share it.

So thank you, Wendy. Thank you for being a person who listens to the Holy Spirit. Thank you for being a woman of prayer.

Thank you for listening.

-Emily