Story-time: A Neighbor's Prayer--Sophie and Mr. Long

The tale of unlikely friendship, of childlike faith, and healing an old man's heart

Enjoy the Audiobook version:

Skipping her way along the sidewalk near home, curious 9-year-old Sophie hadn’t a care in the world. She’s out exploring her neighborhood, singing bits of a song she’d learned and bouncing her short pigtails as she skips.

Her street is a picturesque, quaint place. It’s filled with colorful houses and well-tended gardens. Each street is lined with tall, leafy trees that provide shade on warm summer days. Sophie knows all her neighbors, who are usually friendly and welcoming, always willing to lend a helping hand.

Ever eager for a friend, she spots Mr. Long in his yard. There’s a weed by the tree he’s not happy about. Mr. Long, Sophie knows, is a grumpy and reclusive old man who has lived in the same house for decades.

What she doesn’t know is, despite his gruff exterior, he secretly longs for companionship and someone to care for him.

"Hello, Mr. Long,” she calls. “How are you today?”

Sophie's daily routine includes walking by Mr. Long's house, where she often stops to have a chat with him. Today he seems friendlier than others, and she sits down on the porch steps while he pulls a few more weeds.

“Oh, Hiya Sophie.” He shrugs, “I’m, uh...I’m okay, I guess. What’s that song you’re singing?”

“Song? Oh, um, it’s something we learned in Bible School.” She hadn’t realized he could hear her. “Do you want me to teach it to you?”

“No, I’m too old to learn any new ones. Besides, I know plenty myself. I was the school’s music teacher after all. I bet you don’t know that.”

“Goodness, no, I didn’t,” she said. “I bet you do know a lot of songs. Do you ever sing any in church?”

Mr. Long grunts, then sighs. “I never did. Didn’t ever feel right to me, being in a house of God. My front porch is all I need. Nobody wants to hear me sing anyway. My voice isn’t what it used to be.”

Then he coughed a bit, followed by a bit more. It sounded raspy and harsh.

“Are you okay?” asked Sophie.

“Yeah, sure. Just… okay. Cold or something, I guess,” said Mr. Long, clearing his throat loudly. “I think you ought to run on along for today.”

“Okay, bye.” Sophie waved as she latched the gate.

At home, she found her mom in the kitchen and asked, “Mom, is Mr. Long sick?”

“Why, I’m not sure, sweetie. I haven’t heard anything.”

“Well, I saw him today. He seems happy, but he was coughing badly and said I should go. I just wondered.”

“Then you should say a prayer for him.”

“Me? I should pray for him? I thought that was Pastor's job,” said Sophie.

“Why don’t you look up a verse in the Bible?” said her dad, chiming in from the dining room. “Try James 5:16.”

Sophie did, and though she didn’t understand all the words, she knew it was saying she could pray for Mr. Long.

It’s a good thing, too, since the next day she went by his house even earlier than usual, but she didn’t see him. She hung around a while, hoping he would come out to his porch chair. But he didn’t. Nor the next day, nor the one after that.

Her mom called a neighbor, who called another, who knew that Mr. Long had gone to the hospital. Sophie didn’t know how to spell pneumonia or even what it was, but that was what her mom said he had.

“So I should be praying for him?” She asked her dad.

“Yes, yes, little one. You certainly should. Pray for Mr. Long to get well, and pray he comes to believe in Jesus.”

Sophie went by Mr. Long’s house. She unlatched the gate, stepped up the steps, and sat on the chair next to his. It was shady then; a nice east breeze rustled the trees. Sophie saw a bee buzzing the flowers and heard what probably was a squirrel.

It’s nice here, she thought. No wonder Mr. Long likes it.

Closing her eyes and folding her hands, Sophie took a deep breath. She knew this was how you talk to God when it’s serious business. The pastor always had nice long prayers, but her mom’s were simple and short by comparison. What were the right words to pray for Mr. Long?

Then she remembered her Bible teacher saying once to talk to God like you’re talking to a friend, the best friend ever. And that is what she did.

“Dear God, I know you can hear little me because You have a really big ear. I read stories about how Jesus touched the ears of one man and he could hear. And another story about how He spit and made mud for another man’s eyes, and he could see. In those stores, some people asked you to make them well, and you did. So I’m asking for Mr. Long. He doesn’t know You, and he doesn’t have anyone to pray for him, so I am. You can make him not be sick.”

She paused a moment, trying to think of anything else to pray.

“Oh, yeah, and like my dad said, I pray Mr. Long would know you like I do. And in Jesus name, Amen.”

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times, blinded by the bright sun. Just then, a little bluish white bird landed on a rock in the flowerbed. He seemed to look right at her and then chirped once. Then again. As she watched, he cocked his head and seemed to wink. That made her smile, and off he flew.

Maybe that is God’s angel trying to tell me that Jesus heard my prayer, she wondered. Did God really do things like that? She wondered a moment more and then hopped off the seat and ran off home, pigtails bouncing as she went.

Another week went by and still no sign of Mr. Long. But each day she stopped at his house, went up the porch, and prayed.

On Saturday, there was a van and some people who were helping Mr. Long up the walk. Sophie watched as they took him inside. He turned and seeing her, gave a little wave. He was better, she knew, and she couldn’t wait to see him.

When she came by the following day after church, Mr. Long was in his usual spot. Sophie went to the chair next to him and sat. He mumbled a hello, but not much else. So she stayed for a bit, praying silently, and made her way home.

By the third day, when the clouds made the sky gray and the breeze was from the south making the air warm, Mr. Long was more up and about. He smiled as Sophie came up the walk.

“Hello, Mr. Long, feeling better today?” Sophie asked.

“I certainly am,” he replied. “And I just happen to have some fresh lemonade. Would you like some?”

“Yes, please.” She sat and waited while he went inside for a pitcher, ice, and glasses.

“I just wanted to thank you,” he said after they’d had a few sips. It was tart and lemony, and oh so good on this extra warm day.

“Thank me?” Sophie asked. “Whatever for?”

“I understand you’ve been coming here while I’ve been sick. They tell me you’ve prayed here for God to make me well. And it must have worked, because here I am. For a week those doctors and nurses had been poking at me. My family was buzzing around like flies on honey. I had about all I could stand!

But, one night when I was awake and alone, I thought, if God is real, maybe He’d help me. So I called out a little prayer, at least that’s what I think I did.

Anyway, I felt some kind of power, a peace come over me. I can’t really describe it or explain it, but I knew... I could sense something, like blinders falling off, and somehow I knew I was going to get well...and I could hear singing, too. I didn’t recognize it at first, but then I remembered hearing you sing it, remember that?”

“I sure do,” said Sophie.

“Would uh, you mind teaching it to a grumpy old music teacher?” Mr. Long asked.

"Well, okay, but I don’t know if I sing it very well,” laughed Sophie. “Maybe you could help me?”

“Sure thing,” he said.

“Jesus loves me this, I know,” sang Sophie. “Now you sing it with me...for the Bible tells me so.”

Mr. Long followed with her. "Yes, Jesus loves me; the Bible tells me so.”

“Yes, he does, Sophie, yes He does. And I’m learning how much He loves me, too.”

There were many times since then Sophie and Mr. Long sat together on his porch, talking of his family or his teaching. They talked of hopes for days to come and of Sophie’s dreams for tomorrow. Mr. Long would share what he’d read from the Bible, and they prayed for each other and for the families along their street.

Those days are gone now. He is with the Lord and Sophie is a mom. As she braids her daughter's hair, she remembers fondly those lessons learned—of friendship, story, and prayer. Many times she’s

asked God’s blessings for others near and far, or those she knew and those she didn’t.

Sophie was living what that verse had said. And with childlike faith, she prayed again.

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We hope you enjoyed this short story of prayer. It is based on events and people, although the names have been changed. Please send it someone else to enjoy.

Thank you for reading Epaphras Prays, a ministry of intercessors for the people of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Our intent is to pray—and to teach others to pray, Biblical prayers. We all desperately need to be praying more, and yet we do not sense an urgency among believers to do so. Help us reach out with our newsletter to invite and encourage others to their prayer closet.