Sunday at church I was watching the people standing at the altar in front of me as we all together sang praises of our God. I watched a young woman stand humbly, singing as tears streamed down her cheeks. I can only wonder about what was going on inside of her heart. I also witness a sweet scene of a Dad standing at the altar holding the hands of his little children singing unto the Lord together. The Dad seems very intent on exampling the worship. Alongside the three, is a small boy standing alone gazing longingly at his Dad. The look on his face is that of a hungry child, hungry for the love of a Father. My heart goes out to him. So small, very soon he will be old enough to attend school and have to face this big world, still hungry. At that moment the pastor asks everyone to turn to the person next to them and pray for them. The Father, oblivious to the lone child, turns to grab the hands of his children and walks away to find the Mother. I watch the family embrace, clasp hands and bow their heads in reverent prayer. My gaze returns to the small boy, he is standing alone. In my heart I feel his pain and want to fix his plight. They say a picture is worth a thousand words and a lifetime can pass through your mind in a moment; what a serial feeling I experience as I glimpse into the lives of those around me. Just then, a tall young man passes by me in pursuit of someone to pray for. I grab his arm and point to the little boy alone at the altar. No words are used, but the young man somehow understands. He turns and approaches the small boy. They could have been brothers by the looks of them, but I know they don’t know each other based on their body language. The young man towers over the small boy who has to bend his head completely back to see the face of the young man. Bending down on one knee, the young man is still head and shoulders taller than the boy. As this young man bends his head to look into the face of the boy, I observe what I can only assume as consent for prayer. I then witness the young man rest his big hand on the little boy’s shoulder and spread out over his small frame. The little boy bows his head in reverence and in replication of the young man bowing his head. The prayer is just long enough and the small boy raises his eyes to watch the young man pray for him. His little head nods his agreement and his lips moved to “Amen.” The young man uncurls his large frame, stands and pats the small boy on the head, then walks away. I kept watching the small boy. He pulls himself up to a taller stance even to lift his chin ever so slightly higher and square his shoulders. Then, he runs to his Mother. I don’t think the Mom even knew what God did for her son that morning. What the young man prayed I will never know; but God does. I have worshiped at the altar many times but this tender moment and sweet innocent bouquet of God using his people as instruments of His love will always be fresh in my heart; because that day, I witnessed God respond to the silent cry of a little child’s heart. Jodiann Schott- Author, “Nana’s House” All Nations Christian Center- Spokane, Washington