Prayers of illiterate saints

WH Auden has a poem in which a line goes something like this:

...and maculate cities are spared by the prayers of illiterate saints.

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I can't find the actual poem for love or money (I think it was called Plans for Departure) but that line has stayed with me.

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This week we saw it in action.

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We have a young lady called Neharika (name changed of course). She is HIV positive. Her man left her when she was very sick. Her aged, one-eyed mother looked after her as best she could. They are garbage pickers. Neharika had an infant daughter who was only drinking watered down milk months after she should have been eating solid foods. The little shrivelled girl was behind in all milestones. She mirrorred her little shrivelled mother Neharika who had been left to die.

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But this is not about Neharika. Her story will have to wait another time.

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This is about her mother. The simple, at times crude lady. Who loves her daughter Neharika so much. And who now loves the Lord Jesus.

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Last week the mother called up. Thinking it was about Neharika being sick Sheba asked her what the mother wanted. The mother only asked about how we were doing. How is everyone at JSK? How are the children? Are we all fine.

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Finally it came out. She had had a dream about Sheba the night before. She wanted to know if we were safe.

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She prays for us all every day. Every single day we have the privilege of being prayed for by this illiterate saint.

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Priceless.