A friend of mine is a mother of teenagers – but her age belies her childlike Christian faith, unmatched by anyone else I know. Her prayers are always pure and innocent, rooted in an implicit trust in how much her heavenly Father loves her, and how much He desires to bless her and those she brings before Him.

Trained as a nursery nurse, and currently working for a freelance childcare agency, she greets me with glee on this particular afternoon, clearly unable to contain her excitement.

The seasons are changing, and layers of clothing are the only solution to the constantly changing temperature. Grabbing mugs of coffee, we find seats together, and I listen as her latest story comes tumbling out.


“It’s usual for more than one of us from the agency to be working at the same nursery,” she tells me. “This week, it’s been a young Brazilian girl called Suzie.”

In moments of quiet, they chat and start getting to know each other. Suzie is in her early twenties and has been living in the UK for less than a year. It turns out that she and my friend live in separate towns, located in different directions, about fifteen miles apart. The nursery where they are working is equidistant between them, situated on the edge of a large village.

Halfway through the week, Suzie looks stressed. “I’ve got a job interview early this evening,” she explains to my friend. “It’s for part time evening work, teaching Portuguese to international students, but I’ve no idea how I’m going to get there, let alone on time.”

She explains how she has no car but, even if she had use of one, she does not have a valid licence to drive in this country. To take public transport would mean catching multiple buses, risking missing their connections, and making it through rush hour traffic. To get a cab would be costly and beyond her moderate means.

She pauses a moment and then reveals that the interview is at a language school in the town where my friend lives.

“Would you mind giving me a lift?” she asks tentatively.

“Of course,” my friend replies eagerly, delighted to be doing a good deed.

Later, as they leave the nursery and drive down the dual carriageway towards the town where my friend lives, the conversation turns to faith. It turns out Suzie is a lapsed Catholic, but she’s not been to church since she left Brazil last year. My friend reveals she’s a Christian and offers to pray for Suzie, before dropping her off at her destination and wishing her well for the job interview.

Heading home, she prays out loud in the car, calling on God to help and honour Suzie, and to give her peace.

The following day, back at the nursery, my friend spies Suzie across the room. Immediately walking over, she asks her how the interview went, eager to hear the news.

“It was amazing,” Suzie replies, clearly delighted. “I got the job – and I start next week!” she adds, her smile speaking volumes.

“That’s fantastic news,” my friend tells Suzie, “Well done!” And then she feels a prompt, which she knows is from God.

“When I dropped you off at the language school,” she tells her, “I prayed for you – asking God to be with you in the interview, for it to go well, for you to get the job.”

Suzie’s eyes are welling up with tears. “I couldn’t have done if it you hadn’t given me a lift,” she says. “Thank you so much for the part you played.”


“It’s not as though I had done anything heroic,” my friend says, turning towards me, leaning forwards, elbows on knees, her hands clasped around her mug of coffee. “But what Suzie said next put everything into perspective.”

“Go on,” I encourage her.

It turns out that, at the beginning of the week, Suzie had been praying, even though she was unsure whether God would still listen to her, since her Catholicism had lapsed. Unable to sleep, because she was so stressed, she was awake at night, being honest with God, telling Him how anxious she was about getting to the job interview.

“And then, in her own words,” my friend explains, “she told me that she heard God speaking to her, saying, ‘Suzie, don’t worry, I have a plan!‘”

My friend breaks into a broad grin. “It turns out that she wasn’t just grateful I had given her a lift.” She pauses a moment, before continuing. “It gradually dawned on both of us that God had answered my prayers and her prayers. He had provided just what she needed, just when she needed it – and I was part of God’s plan for Suzie!”


How often is this us?
How often might we be the answer to the prayers that someone else is praying?
How often might we be willing to do a good deed – something as ordinary and seemingly inconsequential as providing a lift to a relative stranger – which turns out to make a massive difference to the recipient?
How often might we be prepared to pray for that person?
And how often might God be joining up the dots behind the scenes?

Whether we realise it or not, all of us can be part of God’s plan!

Photo from Pixabay


1 Comment

  1. bettyboo76 Reply

    In need of some encouragement, I’m catching up on some of the posts I’ve missed in recent weeks. I’ve prayed this prayer too, that maybe I could be the answer to someone else’s prayer. And I strongly believe that has been the case. God does indeed have a plan in which we can play our part. BBx

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