From My Kitchen Window

From the spot where I work the most (my kitchen), I can look out my window onto the street where cars and people are constantly passing. I see men walking to work and young people going to school early in the morning. Then I hear (before I see) the water truck and the gas truck passing; I see Mommies walking their children to kindergarten. I must admit that I have become familiar with the routines of people in my neighborhood, including the new couple who just moved in across the street. There are certain people, though, whom God has laid upon my heart specifically, for whom I pray almost daily. In a way, I feel they've become my friends, although I don't know their names and neither do I know where they live. But I see them pass, and I pray for their salvation.

One is a young man, probably in his early 20s. He pushed a tricycle (a yellow one with a carrier on the front). Every morning, at 9:00, he rides the tricycle down the hill past my window. I see he sells cold "horchata" (a sweet rice drink) and cold "jamaica" (a hibiscus drink); and he also sells tacos. I imagine that he goes down to the square in town and sells. I have seen him ride by on a motorcycle and big blocks of ice are strapped into a crate-type container. I assume he delivers ice to someone. I am under the impression that he's a very hard worker. Not too long ago, our family returned from town in our car, and I saw this young man walking on our street with a young lady. They appeared to be more than just friends. But I thought: if she marries him, I'm sure she'll be getting a hard-working husband.

And every time he passes my window, I pray for God to save him.

I also see a deformed and crippled lady who passes every so often. She always seems to be so jolly and happy. I don't know her name, but I pray for her salvation.

And I see a little old Indian woman who passes my window nearly every day. She actually comes very near to my kitchen window. There is something that grows outside that window that she comes and picks...to me, they're just weeds, but to her, they might be medicine or special seasonings. I don't know. But when I see her, I ask God to save her, and to provide for her needs.

My ministry is in my home. Between home-schooling, cooking, cleaning, caring for a baby, training children, and being the help meet for my precious husband, I feel that I don't have much time for ministries outside the home. I ask God to give me a special ministry. And I feel that He has. I can pray for the many people who pass my kitchen window. As I see them pass, the Holy Spirit reminds me that my neighborhood is a mission field. They are my ministry. "Pray for them. I'll prepare their hearts, and when the time comes, I'll give you an opportunity to speak to them about Me."

What a special ministry we have in praying for others, for only God knows the hearts, and only He can prepare them to accept the saving Gospel.

Will you take time to pray with me for my neighbors who pass my kitchen window?