Wouldn’t it be nice if I could tell you that faithfully every morning now I have kneeled to lift up Sarath and his two teenage sisters and unemployed mother? Too many mornings (and nights for that matter), I’m rushing and distracted and have forgotten the one plea Sarath made of me. Not “send more money.” Not “send more gifts.” Pray for me.

“Pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints.” – Ephesians 6:18, emphasis added (NIV).

How seriously do we take prayer? I know I certainly don’t take it seriously enough. It’s the Sunday school answer to the issues we hear of plaguing the children we minister to.

How quickly and easily does the phrase, “I’ll pray for that” run off our tongues? But do we see prayer for what it is — crying out to the omnipotent God for His incomparable power to work in the lives of these children?

For we don’t just throw money at a problem. Our weapon against poverty isn’t cash. Our weapons “have divine power to demolish strongholds” (2 Corinthians 10:4, NIV).

As Eric Alexander says, “The great business of the church is prayer. And the greatest need of a needy world is a praying church.”

“In all our thinking about Christian service, prayer needs to become fundamental instead of supplemental … Prayer is the work; it is the essence of the task to which we are called, and apart from it, all other work, and I mean Christian work, is a sheer waste of time and energy divorced from the basic work of prayer. Everything else is insignificant.” – Eric Alexander

Oh my soul, when will I take prayer as seriously as I ought?

My husband and I just wrote a small group study that is all about learning about the issues in this world and responding to them in prayer. But I still fall so short in this ministry of prayer to the children we sponsor.

So tell me — what do you do to be alert and stay alert as Ephesians 6 says?

How do you keep on praying for all the saints?

What stories do you have of the power of God through prayer in your sponsored children’s lives, or your own life?

My Account l Sponsor a Child l Help Babies and Moms l Crisis Updates

I was a bit nervous. Don’t tell, but I’m not great with kids. I know I work at Compassion, but I’m a writer–more natural with a keyboard than with real, live people, let alone children who can smell fear. So I wasn’t sure how this was going to go.

The day I visited his village outside Chennai was Pongal, a festival in the state of Tamil Nadu. Along the way, we saw bright sand drawings outside every doorway and cows adorned with flower garlands for the holiday. I had put on my nicest salwar kameez, vainly worrying he would think I was some weird-looking old white lady.

We arrived in Sarath’s neighbhorhood, and I was so happy to see that it was a relatively nice, pleasant place. There was space between the homes, his family had their own bathroom and even a little courtyard to play in and wash dishes.

Sarath was waiting outside. I’d like to say we rushed toward each other and hugged and cried. We didn’t. (I learned on my trip that Indian children don’t seem to be as into hugging as other cultures are.)

We shook hands and he whispered something in my ear. He was very sweet. He was so shy that during the entirety of my visit, he only whispered a couple of short phrases in my ear, so quietly I couldn’t tell if they were in English or Tamil.

We stepped inside and I met his mother, two lovely sisters, aunt, and cousin, who all share the same little room for their home.

On their shelf was a picture of my husband and I. His mother told me that he likes to call us “Mommy” and “Daddy,” even though the project taught him to call us Auntie and Uncle. Sarath tells his mom that even if she dies, he knows he’ll be OK because there’s someone else who cares about him.

Sarath’s mom and aunt inherited their parents’ home, and they proudly showed me their home, the floor all six of them sleep on, where they cook in a tiny side room, and the wall they built to keep out the rain with a family gift we had sent. (Who knew a small family gift could build a wall?)

We asked all the kids what they wanted to do when they were older. Sarath’s adorable little cousin said she wanted to be a doctor, and the family all laughed at her pluck. She’s sponsored too, but her sponsors have never written. She feels bad each time Sarath gets a letter or gift from us. Sarath’s sisters stole my heart. Their eyes were eager and bright, even though they were so shy and quiet.

I gave Sarath his backpack with candy, a shirt, a soccer ball, and frisbee in it, and we began to speak the international language of sports, playing frisbee in the courtyard. We couldn’t share any words, but we’d laugh as one of us would miss it, or as I’d get accidentaly tangled in my Indian shawl.

After several hours of asking questions, playing frisbee, and taking pictures, it was time to go. We walked back through the alleys and gathered a crew of curious young boys and a cow on our way. Before getting on the van, I gave Sarath an awkward little side hug (that I hoped was appropriate for India). He asked me through whispered translation to pray for him every day. He repeated his request several times. Sarath promised he would be praying for us.

Seeing Sarath and hugging him (kind of) and listening to his whispered sentences showed me how real our relationship is. The letters and pictures I send off to a faraway land end up in a real home, propped on a real shelf. The words are read and believed by a young boy who knows that someone cares about him and is secure in that. And that’s what I learned in India.

My Account l Sponsor a Child l Help Babies and Moms l Crisis Updates

Tell me if you can relate to this: When I first started sponsoring my Compassion child, I clung so tightly to that one picture I had of him — my one lifeline into his world.

OK, so I knew from his bio that he helps his mom wash dishes and loves art, but I would hold that little picture in my hands and examine every detail, trying to glean whatever information I could.

What type of shoes is he wearing? Is that a scrape on his knee? What’s that expression on his face — fear? Indifference?! The thought even crosses my mind…is he even happy I’m sponsoring him?

I know there are other sponsors who feel the same way. We cling to those pictures, so excited to be a part of a child’s life, so when we see that these little ones look scared or stiff or even aloof, we can’t help but think “what’s going on here?!”

Photo day is a big day for children being registered at Compassion-assisted child development centers. In the morning, they put on their bestest outfit, hold their mom’s hand as they walk the dusty road to the child development center, and get ready to face the camera.

This is probably the first picture that’s ever been taken of them. Many are shy and scared of the stranger taking their picture. Many aren’t used to so much individual attention being given to them. Many don’t quite know what this sponsorship thing is all about yet.

I recently saw this photo by Edwin Estioko, Communication Specialist in the Philippines. How refreshing!

After the fear of that first picture, the child begins to loosen up. He interacts a bit with the smiling, accepting faces at the project; he makes a couple of new friends from his neighborhood. Look how relaxed and child-like this cutie is when he lets his guard down a bit!

Phew…So it’s not just me. It’s a new situation for these children, and their little cheeks will soon relax into chubby smiles.

Imagine my delight when, after cherishing the first picture of my sponsored child who looked so tentative and unsure, I received this photo of a smiling, confident young man. And maybe, just maybe, he was thinking of me.

My Account l Sponsor a Child l Help Babies and Moms l Crisis Updates