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I was ready to curse my summer on the hot streets. Then I came to her door

House Number Three

by Grace Yong

One month into my summer program my attitude began to go bad.

Even though I needed money for school tuition, my main motive for joining the student literature evangelist program had been the opportunity to witness. Now, as the summer progressed, my focus shifted from working for God to how much money I'd make.

I sort of sensed that I was getting a bad attitude and that I needed to put myself in God's hands in order to work for Him. But this realization didn't really hit me until one hot, humid day.

I was growing irritable and frustrated. I began to wonder if I was really making a difference. Soon I found myself wishing I had accepted the McDonald's job. Instead of walking street after street at this hopeless task, I thought, I could be flipping burgers and taking orders in an air-conditioned building.

I reached the last street to cover before supper. I was sick of walking and just wanted to finish the street. Then guilt swept over me. I thought, How can I let myself treat God's work so carelessly?

I decided my attitude needed God's help. Bowing my head, I prayed for God to be with me at each house and for the Holy Spirit to work on my heart as well as the hearts of those I spoke to.

After that prayer I felt some peace and knew God would work through me. All I needed was patience.

After striking out at the first two houses, I approached a cute white house and rang the doorbell. A lady answered the door immediately. Her eyes were swollen, and she looked as if she hadn't slept in a few days.

I put on a smile and started my canvass.

"Hi, my name is Grace, and I'm working on a school project to promote family health and values." I took out the cookbook and handed it to her.

She shook her head and turned away. "Look! . . . my two boys just got out of the hospital. I can't afford anything. I'm sorry, but I just can't!" Her eyes began to tear.

I silently prayed, Lord, please be with this lady and give me the right words to say.

My eye caught the shine of a little cross around her neck. I knew many people wore cross pendants without even knowing Jesus as a friend. I decided to ask her. "Are you a Christian?"

"That's a hard question to answer," she responded. "I used to believe in a God, but now I don't know what to believe in. How could I believe in a God that would do this to my children?"

Two little boys peeked out from the hallway. They were two of the cutest kids I had ever seen. They flashed toothless smiles and asked, "Mommy, who's that?"

The woman smiled a little and introduced me to her sons, Max and Christopher. Then she instructed the boys to go and play while she talked to me.

"Are those the boys you were talking about?" I asked.

Her sad nod answered my question. I could see in her eyes the hunger for answers. I wished I had them for her.

"My two sons are slowly dying," she explained. "They have a strange brain disorder. None of the doctors can stop it. They've had CAT scans, MRIs, blood tests, and any other test you can think of. I'm not even sure how I'm going to pay the hospital bill. Last Christmas my other baby twin sons died soon after they were born. Now can you still tell me that God actually cares?"

Her tears fell freely as if she were releasing all the emotions inside. My own eyes began to fill with tears as mixed feelings washed over me. Who could blame her for doubting God after all she's been through? Have I been starting to doubt God too?

I remembered then that God had been through the pain of suffering, more than any of us could imagine. I thought of how it crushed God to see His only Son pleading for help in the Garden of Gethsemane. God had the power to stop the pain, but instead, He set His feelings aside and thought of us.

I asked the mother, now trembling, if she would mind if I prayed with her.

She gave a weak shrug and sighed. "I guess it wouldn't hurt."

I prayed straight from my heart for her two boys, for her, and for the faith in Jesus to get through this. I prayed for myself as well, that I wouldn't forget Jesus' love for us.

After I finished praying, I reached out and gave the woman a hug. We held each other for what seemed hours, crying silently.

Then I talked to her for a little while, explaining what Jesus went through on earth. I shared with her how God had felt the same pain as she. She smiled and reached for her pendant.

I decided to leave her some of the devotional books I was selling. I figured that I had enough donations to cover the cost of the books and that they would make more of a difference than the money I would receive from them. Along with the books, I left her with a promise that flashed in my mind from Hebrews 13:5. "Always remember," I said, "God will never leave you or forsake you."

"Thanks for coming," she said with a sniffle. Then she said something I will never forget. "Thanks for giving me hope again."

Every day for the rest of the summer I prayed for Max, Christopher, and their mother. And I reminded myself often that when we place ourselves in God's hands, He will use us and show us what true love is.

This story won third prize in the student short story category of our 1994 writing contest. Grace Yong was a senior at Great Lakes Adventist Academy, in Cedar Lake, Michigan, when she wrote it. "The first time I ever prayed with someone," says Grace, "I just got the neatest feeling; it was like an adrenaline rush--like wow. I've grown up through the cradle roll, kindergarten, and primary Sabbath school divisions, and I've always known that God answers prayer. But when you actually see it, it is so neat."