Olivia Ruiz-Knott, Daughter

Children teach us so much about God’s love for us.

Ron and I were married when we were 30. When we decided to have a child, I said to God that it would nice to have a child before I turned 35. During that time we discovered that I had severe endometriosis and that it was preventing me from getting pregnant. Surgery cleared that up and three months later I was pregnant.

The doctor said the due date for the baby was May 26. On May 17, I would be turning 35. I thanked God and told Him that was close enough (the baby would come nine days after I turned 35, not before). As it turned out, our precious little girl came two weeks early and she was born on May 11. (It struck me that there was something familiar about that date but I didn’t pursue it.) God had heard my prayer—I had a healthy child before I turned 35.

Three years after Olivia was born, we moved back to Berrien Springs, Michigan. A few weeks later, a mom asked me to give a presentation about healing after a divorce. As I was preparing for that presentation I wept because God revealed to me an unnoticed gift He had given me three years before.

This is how I imagine it. God was in heaven and one day he said to a group of His closet angels, “I see my daughter Esther down there. What gift can we give her?” Then one angel, my personal guardian angel—who knows me best and has walked with me through so much, says, “I have an idea. Remember that no good, horrible, very bad day in May when her previous husband told her that he didn’t want to be married anymore. Let’s take that date and make it a day of celebration instead of a day of sadness.” All agreed.

So at 3:15 a.m. on May 11, they rejoiced when Olivia was born. You know how it is when you give someone a present and you watch to see their reaction to the gift. Well, I think the angels might have been doing the same thing, but I missed part of gift. Indeed, the main gift was Olivia, but the bonus gift was the date.

Olivia, now known to most as “Livvy,” has contributed much to my own spiritual journey.

I believe that every person who becomes a parent has had their prayer life increase exponentially as our prayers focus more outwardly.

Here are some examples from Olivia’s pre-school days:

One Friday evening I was up a little late reviewing a sermon about prayer that I was to give the next morning. I hadn’t gone to Livvy’s room to tuck her in at the usual time. Her dad had done that. Finally, I snuck into her room and in the darkness I heard her sweet little voice say, “Jesus.” I looked around the room, it was as though I had walked in on a conversation Livvy was having with Jesus. It felt like Jesus was close to listen to this precious child—my child, actually His chilld. Oh, how I loved Him in that moment.

Children have such faith. Many times when facing a big or small issue, Livvy would say, “Mommy let’s pray.” Once, I was struggling to open a small wooden box. Livvy said, “Mommy, let’s pray.” In my heart I felt that that wasn’t something I’d normally pray about—we’d have to just figure it out by ourselves (or wait until Ron came home). However, you can’t tell your child, “Honey, that’s not something we should ask God to help us with.”

On another occasion, Livvy came across me sitting on the stairs massaging a pain in my shoulder. She put her little hand on my shoulder and said, “Mommy, let’s pray.” Then she prayed a beautiful prayer asking God to help Mommy feel better.

On a walk, we came across a neighbor who intently weeding her rock garden. I remembered hearing that her son had recently committed suicide, so I stopped to comfort her. I knelt beside the neighbor and joined her in the weeding as we talked. Livvy knelt beside me. Soon we got up and headed back to our house. On the way home, Livvy said, “Mommy, why didn’t you pray with that lady?” I told Livvy the truth. I couldn’t remember the ladies name and didn’t want to just say, “God please bless my ‘sister” or my “neighbor.” Livvy told me that that wasn’t a very good reason. She, or course, was right and by this time I had remembered the woman’s name. I walked back to the house and said to the woman that I had come back to pray with her. She responded by saying, “But you did pray with me.” I said I hadn't. She insisted that I had. I didn’t want to argue with her. We gave each other a hug as she thanked me for praying with her. On the way home I realized that sometimes “prayer” is not with words. It can be our compassionate presence that brings someone into God’s presence.

Now Olivia is an adult. She’s married and she and her husband—Ivan—are discovering her own journey with God. Like any parent, that journey keeps me on my knees.