In 1996 a pastor prayed for me while I was attending a small group meeting and his prayer was rather strange. He told me of things to come which I did not have in mind at all. However, what he prayed came to pass in a "miraculous" way, without me even being aware of it. It is so easy to forget a prayer (especially those we did not agree with perhaps) - and yet when we are in trouble we do pray ourselves and we cry out to our Father in heaven; we even implore others to intercede on our behalf. However, the human mind seems quick to forget the heavenly "911"-calls we made - as you will see (in my case).
The prophetic word the pastor prayed over me at that point was that I would move from teaching the "current" subject to teaching art within the near future. At that point I was teaching English and to be honest, even though I am an artist myself, I did not want to teach art to little kids, because I could imagine cleaning up an art room and that mess did not appeal to me at all. Maybe there was a pinch of "I-did-not-want-to-stoop-so-low" in my "adult" heart.
Life happened in all its busyness (and muddy complexities) and within a year and a half of having received the word that I would change my teaching subject, I found myself in a new city and I was indeed in an art room and I was teaching very young students. It was a painful start for me because the "dirty" problems of an art room (which I wanted to avoid at all costs) were colourfully exploding around me, but in my heart I knew it was the right place for me - but I had forgotten all about that prayer! However, God did not. He sent a child to me within the course of the first year to remind me that we are on His mission, not ours.
One day, after we had finished the work I set out for them to do, we had about 10 minutes before the bell would release them and like any teacher would do, I decided to give them some paper and watercolour paint sets so that they could paint freely. I returned to the large steel teacher's table and continued organising a few things that demanded attention. The students were calm and they were mixing colours and having imaginary journeys, I imagine. Then something happened which reminded me that His ways are higher than our ways - and sometimes so tangible that we have to surrender.
An Indian boy, the kindest boy, the one who hardly ever talks, stands next to my table. He tells me, "I brought you a gift. I painted your future". He gave me the painting and returned to his seat. What did he paint? He had painted the entire prophetic word the pastor had prayed over me one and a half years earlier from his child-like perspective. (Our heavenly Father does not forget!) I still have this painting and it is included here. Let us trust like a child, recall those forgotten prayers; we have much to gain.
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