"Mom, why am I called Samuel?" The boy asked the question one day during the evening meal. Nervously she toyed with her dinner napkin. She hadn't dared tell anyone for fear that they would think her foolish. After all, she lives in the modern world, not the world populated by Old Testament characters. All of her friends knew that for years she had tried everything possible in order to be able to have children.

First there were the specialists who insisted on taking all sorts of tests, making all sorts of observations, and trying to figure out what the biological impediment was. Then there were the endless sessions with counselors trying to find out whether or not there were emotional blocks. Other counselors had indicated that perhaps her concerns about her husband were interfering with conception. The list of tests and the observations seemed to go on without end.

Almost unconsciously she kept going to church. Every week she would be in her regular place. Every week she sang the hymns, prayed the prayers and joined in the celebrations of the church. She also prayed silently that God would be able to work a miracle. Yes, she had a certain amount of trust in the miracles of science and medicine. She would hardly have been willing to discount the insights of psychologists. But if anyone had bothered to ask her what she really trusted she would have had to say that she really trusts in the power of God.

Among some of her friends this was a little too much. "Surely you don't think that prayer itself will make much difference, do you?" they would ask. "Surely you don't intend on trusting something you can't see or measure?" said others. In fact, she had overheard one acquaintance suggest that perhaps she was getting a little too involved in the church.

Nevertheless, she kept her doctor appointments and remained active in the church.

At length she and her husband received the great, long-anticipated news. Her pregnancy test revealed that she would indeed have a baby.

The name, what should the child's name be? Should they name the child after a favorite aunt? an uncle? perhaps a friend. No, the now-expectant mother knew what the child's name would be. It would have to come from the Bible, maybe the Old Testament. If it's a boy, then Samuel would be his name.

Years later, when the boy had gotten old enough to wonder, he asked one day, "Mom, why is my name Samuel?" her answer came softly, "Son, everyone else may say that you are the result of modern science and medicine. But your father and I are convinced that you are a gift from God. So we called you Samuel which means 'I have asked of the Lord,' You are an answer to prayer."