When I Handed It Over to God... An Unexpected Answer the Very Next Morning
When I Finally Handed It Over to God... I Didn't Expect an Answer So Soon
Sometimes we pray about something, hand it over to God, and then simply carry on with our lives without giving it much more thought.
That's essentially what happened to me over the course of just two days.
I'm not someone who was praying constantly or repeatedly about this particular situation. It was just one quiet moment, one honest prayer, and an experience the following morning that made me stop and think:
Wait a minute... Was God just there?
Let me explain.
Living With a Difficult Teenager
I have a 17-year-old son, Landon, and I'm sure plenty of parents can relate when I say that raising teenagers isn't always easy.
Landon can be particularly difficult to communicate with, especially when he's unhappy, frustrated, or simply angry at the world.
He often gets into disputes with his mother, my wife. And I want to make something clear: this isn't because his mother is unloving, uncaring, or doesn't do enough for him. Quite the opposite. I often refer to my wife as an angel.
She's a very calm and loving person. However, when someone approaches her with spite, anger, and hostility, she's going to respond. And unfortunately, that's often exactly how Landon approaches her.
His conversations can begin with things like:
"Where's my food?"
"How come my food isn't ready?"
"Why did you bleach my shirt?"
"Why did my shirt change colors?"
And it's not necessarily the questions themselves. It's the way they're delivered. There's very little kindness or consideration in how he speaks to her.
It can be exhausting.
The Argument Over a Shirt
Just yesterday, or sometime around then, Landon noticed that one of his shirts had changed color.
I don't know the exact details of what happened to the shirt, but the moment he noticed it, he started shouting at his mother.
He's upstairs, she's downstairs in the kitchen preparing food, and he's practically screaming at the top of his lungs.
"What did you do to my shirt?! You ruined it!"
And on and on it goes.
Eventually, my wife goes upstairs to confront him.
By this point, Landon is absolutely furious. He's cursing at her, throwing obscenities around, and generally behaving in a way that no parent should have to endure from their child.
He's not even wearing a shirt at this point. He's huffing and puffing, visibly worked up, and looks as though he's on the verge of physically lashing out.
I'm standing on the stairs, watching everything unfold.
I don't say anything.
Part of the reason I'm standing there is that I'm concerned things might escalate physically. If he actually touches her, at least I'll be there to witness it.
But another part of me is holding back because, honestly, I am furious myself.
I want to start shouting at him. I want to curse him out. I want to tell him exactly what I think about his behavior.
But I know that doing so will probably make the situation worse.
So I keep my mouth shut.
Eventually, my wife heads downstairs, and Landon goes into the bathroom to take his shower.
Things settle down.
I do remember saying something along the lines of "disgusting child" afterward. I don't even know if he heard me. I was angry and needed to vent a little myself.
It's not exactly a proud moment, but it's an honest one.
A Quiet Moment With My Leopard Gecko
Later that evening, I had something else to do.
Every Friday night, I feed my leopard gecko.
It's become something of a peaceful little routine for me.
There's something about looking at this little creature that gives me a moment of calm. Amidst all the noise, arguments, frustrations, and chaos of everyday family life, here's this little gecko just lying there peacefully, waiting for his food.
He doesn't curse at me.
He doesn't yell at me.
He doesn't complain about what I'm preparing for him.
He just exists, peacefully, waiting for dinner.
I know it's a funny comparison, but sometimes I look at him and think about how peaceful he is compared to everything else happening around me.
As I prepare his food, mixing the powdered cricket food with water, I find myself quietly praying.
Not some elaborate prayer. Not a long speech.
Just an honest conversation with God.
"God, if You can, please help me in dealing with my children, particularly Landon.
I honestly don't know how to deal with him anymore.
I can't hurt him. I can't just scold him. I feel like anything I say or do is going to make the situation worse.
Lord, if You can help me in some way when these situations arise, please do."
And that's essentially it.
I remember having this particular mental image while praying.
It was almost like I was taking my problem, placing it into God's hand, allowing Him to close His hand around it, and then gently nudging His hand away.
As if to say:
Here, Lord. This is Yours now. I can't deal with this on my own.
I wasn't expecting anything spectacular.
I wasn't asking for some immediate sign or miracle.
I simply handed the problem over to Him.
After that, life went on. I finished my evening routine and eventually went to bed.
The Following Morning
The next morning, around 8:30 AM, I woke up.
My wife and I made the bed together, as we normally do, and eventually I headed downstairs.
As I made my way toward my computer, I could already hear Landon.
He was fuming.
And this time, it wasn't about the shirt.
It was breakfast.
Everything was happening in Japanese, so I couldn't understand every single word, but I could pick up enough to understand the general theme.
It was something along the lines of:
"Where's my food?"
"Where's my breakfast?"
"How come you always make Dad's breakfast first?"
"Why do you always make granola?"
"Why can't I have something nice?"
And he just kept going.
The same complaints, over and over.
He's sitting at the dining table, barking at his mother while she's trying to get everyone's breakfast ready.
I can hear my wife defending herself.
Honestly, I am already tired of hearing it.
It's the same pattern repeating itself again and again.
But here's where things get interesting.
I don't immediately jump in and start scolding him.
In fact, I'm very reluctant to get involved.
I really don't want to make the situation worse.
Eventually, though, I get up and lean against the side of the wall, looking directly at Landon.
And I simply ask:
"What's the matter?"
As you can imagine, he immediately responds with something along the lines of:
"Stay out of this! It doesn't involve you!"
I don't remember his exact words, but the message was clear.
I continue asking him questions.
"Why are you barking at your mother?"
He responds:
"I'm not! She's the one barking at me!"
I tell him something along the lines of:
"She's just trying to get everyone's food ready."
Eventually, after going back and forth a little, I say:
"Why don't you just be quiet so she can get everyone's food ready?"
He talks back again.
So I repeat myself:
"Okay, just sit calmly and she'll get it ready."
He starts barking at me again.
But this time, something different happens.
I simply turn around.
I don't continue arguing.
I don't shout.
I don't chase the conversation.
I just walk away and return to my computer room.
And that's it.
Wait... Did He Actually Stop?
Now, here's the part that caught me completely off guard.
I genuinely expected the argument to continue.
I expected Landon to go right back to arguing with his mother once I walked away.
I was sitting at my computer, probably thinking about something else, when suddenly I had this thought:
Wait... Did he just stop barking?
I actually had to pause for a moment.
"Huh..."
He had stopped.
The argument hadn't continued the way I expected it to.
I hadn't shouted him down. I hadn't threatened him. I hadn't gotten into some prolonged confrontation with him.
I had simply asked him what was wrong, pointed out that his mother was trying to prepare everyone's food, told him to sit calmly, and then walked away.
And somehow, that was enough for the moment.
I didn't immediately connect this to my prayer from the previous evening.
It wasn't until later, when I had a conversation with a friend about some testimonies, that it suddenly occurred to me.
Wait a minute...
God was there.
Was That the Answer to My Prayer?
Think about the timing.
The previous evening, while feeding my leopard gecko, I had quietly asked God to help me deal with Landon.
I admitted that I didn't know what to do anymore.
I told Him that I felt helpless in these situations, that I didn't know how to approach my son without making things worse.
I pictured myself placing the entire problem into His hands and letting Him take it.
Then, less than 24 hours later, I found myself in almost exactly the same situation.
Landon was angry.
My wife was on the receiving end of his frustration.
And I was standing there, once again, trying to figure out what to do.
But this time, I didn't react the way I normally might have.
I didn't explode.
I didn't engage in a shouting match.
I simply spoke to him, encouraged him to calm down, and walked away.
And the situation actually settled.
Now, I'm not going to sit here and claim that my son was suddenly transformed, or that all our family problems disappeared overnight.
That's not what happened.
Landon is still Landon. We still have our challenges, and I'm sure there will be more difficult days ahead.
But something happened that morning that made me reflect on the prayer I had offered the night before.
Maybe the answer wasn't God magically changing my son.
Maybe the answer was God helping me respond differently.
Maybe what I needed wasn't necessarily the ability to control Landon's behavior, but the wisdom and patience to handle the situation without contributing to the chaos.
I had asked God to help me when these situations arose.
And when another situation arose, I found myself responding differently than I expected.
I can't say with absolute certainty what was happening behind the scenes, but I certainly don't think the timing is something I should casually dismiss.
Sometimes the Answer Isn't What We Expect
One thing I've been thinking about is that we sometimes approach God with problems that we desperately want Him to fix.
We want Him to change someone else's behavior.
We want Him to remove the frustration, the conflict, the circumstances that make our lives difficult.
But perhaps sometimes the first thing He changes is our own response to those circumstances.
I prayed because I didn't know how to deal with my son.
I didn't ask for some grand revelation. I didn't spend hours on my knees. I didn't even spend the following morning thinking about the prayer.
I simply handed Him something I couldn't figure out myself.
And then, in an ordinary moment over breakfast, I found myself doing something differently.
It reminded me that prayer doesn't necessarily have to be accompanied by some dramatic experience.
Sometimes it's just a quiet conversation while preparing food for a little leopard gecko.
And sometimes, the answer might be so subtle that you don't even recognize it until later.
You just have to stop and think:
Wait a minute...
Was that You, Lord?
I think I'll be paying a little more attention to those moments from now on.
God bless.