Something I wrote for our Lenten Devotional in 1997.Answered Prayers
'For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks the door will be opened. Luke 11:10 '
The year was 1991 when the story broke, "child dies in a fire as her mother escapes". The feelings of suspicion arose immediately and were suppressed. The announcement of her funeral service and cremation again roused the suspicion and sorrow over the way of her death.
Five years later the truth is confirmed, the mother took out insurance on the child and destroyed her young life and is now facing sentencing for her violent act. She escapes the authorities and is on the run. My prayers go to God, what can I do? He directs my thoughts to the television show America's Most Wanted and the mother is located in Galveston Tx. the night it airs. My thoughts search for the whereabouts of the child's cremains, and more prayers. Please, Dear Lord, help me to put this child to rest! May this mother not come out of prison to use her as she has the last five years.
Again he delivers my feet to the offices I need to search out help. Arrangements are started to reclaim the child's ashes, a most difficult task. What is moral is not always easily obtained legally. I eventually found the Galveston District Attorney, who also would like to see the child at rest.
Next came the work of the service and interment. More guidance from God is asked for, it is important that this not become a media circus, that this is done with dignity.
One dark Sunday morning I walk to the car of a fairly new acquaintance, prayers have been asked for from my Chapel Hill family, and we set out on our sad task. Conversation is fairly light, even humorous at one point, until we near Galveston. Not wishing to make this man uncomfortable, I pray silently for strength not to break down. I have a funny feeling he was offering the same prayer.
We arrive at the Galveston jail, not a pleasant place to be standing, and explanations are once again rendered. Confusion as the person we were talking to did not understand why we were at his window. Finally, the Detective needed is located and we start up the stairs to the proper office. I am calm until I see the urn, then immediate sadness overwhelms me. My partner opens the top to verify we have what we came for. I feel so strange, the Detective steps back. Then the proper paperwork must be signed.
He gently lifts the urn and carries it to the car. The urn is to heavy for me to cradle in my lap for a long trip and the floor is not the place for transport, this child went through so much. We secure it in his daughter's safety seat and head back. I feel the tears and again silently pray. God intervenes and gives me a sense of calm.
The interment was not immediate, so each day as I pass the urn I deliver thanks to God for bringing her this far. The day of the service arrives and I set about my tasks but the tears no longer stay away as I drive to the cemetery. By now God must be tired of this same prayer, but he answers, for at least awhile.
As Chaplain Posey and Pastor Hargis conduct the service I feel God sent 'me' a sign, a beautiful butterfly flew down from the trees directly in front of her urn and picture, then gently flew away.
Anastasia is at rest, my prayers were answered.
A dedication page remains for Anastasia with a poem written by a Bailiff friend.
