Lessons in Faith, from Baby Alive

My seventh year was life-changing for me. Not only did my family move across the world to the continent of Africa, but we also traded everything familiar for an altered state of living.

Suddenly, we had no electricity, no running water, and we hand washed our clothes to get them clean. Money was scarcer than it had ever been before, if that was even possible, and we began to understand a little bit more about something called “trust.”

I suppose praying for a doll in these conditions would seem ridiculous, but praying for a specific doll was almost laughable. The shops we now frequented were curious, unexpected, and carried items unlike anything we were accustomed to. And while these new adventures in the world of African commerce were captivating, my heart tugged in the general direction of a familiar American establishment.

You see, before we had moved across the ocean, I had my heart set on the latest trend in the Baby Doll World. It was known as the Baby Alive doll. With it, I had the chance to practice life as a Mommy, and I just knew that my skills would become commendable.

There was no extra money for a doll before we left America. There was scarcely enough money for the necessities, let alone a trivial toy. And, yet, my strong desire for that doll, led me to defy the odds, and pray to a God I knew could answer my prayer.

It’s hard to remember a time when I wasn’t calling on Jesus. I was around 5 years old the first time I encountered Jesus on my own terms. I was at family camp. The summer sun had beaten down on the wooden frame of the camp “tabernacle” that day, and it was warm, but for more reasons than the balmy weather.

I felt a calling. A gentle voice urging me forward to a place of surrender found at the end of an aisle. I knew I wanted Him. I knew He wanted me. I had no question that night that I was destined to be one of His daughters. I felt the warm and tender embrace of a Father who gave me every reason to chase after Him for the rest of my life. I was His.

When I asked for that doll, a mere two years later, I asked in bold faith. I called out to a God I knew loved me, and would take care of me. No one but my parents knew of my desire for that special toy.

Days, weeks, and months passed as I continued to pray, hoping for the answer I desired.

It’s hard to explain how it feels to a missionary kid to open boxes from loved ones in the States. The anticipation is electric, the excitement palpable, and the moment of truth is rewarding. You hold each item in your hand, grinning from ear to ear. You talk excitedly among yourselves, eyeing everyone else’s prized possessions.

And then I saw it. My gaze rested upon the most beautiful, the most prayed for Baby Alive you have ever seen. I knew she was mine. I wanted her. I prayed for her. I welcomed her into my childish arms and loved her with all my heart.

I welcomed something more significant than the doll that day. An increased faith rested in my grateful heart, and refused to leave. I knew without a doubt that God was real. I learned that he cared about a small thing that wasn’t so trivial to this little girl.

I still have my Baby Alive. She resides in the garage now. She is tucked away in a box, surrounded by other treasures. She is worn and tattered. But she is well-loved.

That special doll gave me so much more than fun afternoons playing house and making memories. My Father in Heaven allowed her to teach me a lesson about who He was, and how much He cared for me.

And when I read in I Peter 5:7 that I should “cast all my care on Him, because He cares about me,” I believe those words with all my heart.