Once in a while Jack will walk up to me and quietly whine. If he’s been walked and fed, I’m not sure what he wants and wish he could say it in words, so I could help him.

Little children have a similar problem. They’re born with needs and opinions but can’t talk for a couple of long years. Parents are left to interpret the different nuances of their cries and behavior, hoping they’ll understand.

Recently when my five grandchildren were here, all of them were sick. When they didn’t feel good, they’d whimper and cry, but four of the five couldn’t use words to say what they were feeling. Sore throat? Clogged sinuses? Tummy ache? Headache? We could only guess.

During those weeks, there were several other reasons we wished our little ones had words: important items began disappearing. One day a baby monitor we’d used in the morning was nowhere to be found by afternoon. About the size of a cordless phone but white and with an antenna, it should have been easy to find.

All of us hunted with diligence, becoming increasingly frustrated not to find it. A day of searching went by and then two. We even prayed about it, not so much for the intense need of the monitor as to know where it went. “Lord, you see it right now. Won’t you show us?”

Of course we asked our small fry, using the other half of the monitor-set as bait. “Do you know where one of these is? Where did you put it?” Only half joking, we said, “Just say it in words!” But of course they couldn’t.

Many times Nicholas or Skylar would dash off, acting like they knew, raising our hopes of finding it. Sadly, though, after several days, we could only conclude it had gone into a local landfill by way of our trash.

Why didn’t God answer our prayer and show us the monitor? It would have been easy for him, yet he refused. I find this exasperating yet symbolic of many of our unanswered prayers. It’s as if we pray, “Just say it in words, Lord! Tell us where to look, what to do, which to choose.”

I can’t count the times I’ve prayed the “tell me” prayer. Right now I’m asking about my phone charger. I put it someplace safe before the kids arrived and now can’t find it.

Why doesn’t God usually answer these prayers? Maybe he wants us to:

• practice waiting
• increase in patience
• learn to be careful next time
• learn to handle frustration
• order our priorities
• find humor in the situation

Apparently our family needed to learn those things, because we never found the monitor…

…until today.

While cleaning out the candle cabinet (a child-high, double-door cupboard), there it was. Little hands had hidden it in the back. Maybe we’d learned our lessons after all.

And interestingly, God didn’t use words to answer our prayer.

“ ‘Can anyone [or anything] hide from me in a secret place? Am I not everywhere in all the heavens and earth?’ says the Lord.” (Jeremiah 23:24)