Tanya Ashworth

The Milk Bottle

For two days my precious nineteen month old son had not taken a drink. For two whole days! I was in a state of panic. I took my son to the doctor on the morning of the third day and the doctor’s response was that there was nothing physically wrong as far as he could tell and that I was to watch and wait.

WAIT?! How could I continue to do nothing but wait?! People supposedly die not having anything to drink after three days! My baby boy needed to drink something!

I could not force him to drink. He did not want it. I watched my little guy waddle around the house and happily entertain himself. He did not appear sick.

This momma started to pray those serious “get to your knees-type prayers.” The doorbell rang while I was praying. This was unusual as we were living outside of Glenwood Springs, Colorado up in the mountains. There were not a lot of houses around us and rarely did anyone ever come to the door. “Rarely” is actually not the correct word. It would be closer to “never.” Never did anyone come to the door.

Standing at the door was a representative from the Seventh Day Adventist or Mormon church. Actually, I do not remember where he was from but he had come to present his religious ideas to me. I do not invite unknown people into the house. But, on that day I did.

The fellow never did have the opportunity to share his thoughts with me because I was pouring out my frustrations and anxiety and tears on him. So, together he and I prayed. We had not gotten very far into our prayer when we heard a slurp slurp sound and looked up to see my baby boy very contentedly drinking out of his bottle.

Two and a half days of absolute agony had come to an end. Maybe it wasn’t as big of a crisis as I had made it out to be, but it sure seemed important to me. And I felt pure confidence in knowing that God had sent this gentleman to pray with me at just the exact moment in time when needed.

I saw and heard God’s proxy.