Three of our four Brentwood grands were here this week. We filled the days with lots of activities, trusting bedtime would be free of homesickness and come before 11 p.m. On their last night with us, their bedtime turned into an appointment that they weren’t ready to keep. Their laughter grew louder, so I turned to my calming solution — a story. Stories are always a great go-to.

I had recently read from one of my books on God’s miracles — some of the ones that have taken place since the Bible stories. One was a story about a little red hen. I began reading, and all three turned their attention from their infectious laughter to a listening mode.

“Once there was a husband and wife in the winter of 1940 going through some difficult times. The wintry weather had halted the husband’s occupation as a painter, and the wife’s job at a textile mill was terminated after the plant closed. They literally had no money. To make matters worse, their 18-month-old daughter, Rachel, was recovering from pneumonia. Her doctor insisted that a boiled egg a day be added to her diet to help with her recovery. Yet, even that was beyond their means.

Then a friend, hearing of their dilemma, suggested that they pray about it. “Ask God for the egg,” the friend said. The faith of their young friend challenged the couple, so they got on their knees and asked God to supply the needed daily egg.

About 10 o’clock the next morning, they heard some cackling coming from the hedge fence in front of their house. There among the bare branches sat a fat red hen. They watched in amazement as the hen laid an egg and then proceeded down the road and out of sight.

That first day with the red hen was a surprise, but imagine how startled they felt the next morning when that same red hen laid another egg near the hedge fence. The hen continued appearing in their yard for over a week, always leaving a fresh egg for Rachel.

The child grew better and better, and the wintry weather passed so the husband could go back to work. The next morning the mother waited by the window and watched, but their prayers had been answered. The little red hen never came back. Ever.”

I closed the book to a very quiet room and some wide-eyed grands. We talked quietly about miracles and how God still answers prayers and is able to meet all of our needs. Miracles will always fascinate us — people of all ages.

Hopefully the story will be stamped in our grandchildren’s minds and memories. Who’s to say what the future holds for our nation? Our children and grandchildren must be confident that the God of Bible miracles still answers the prayers of desperation. He’s the undeniable owner of the cattle on a thousand hills as well as little red hens.

Letters to Camille Anding can be sent to P.O. Box 551, Brookhaven, MS, 39602.