Visiting Nigeria has been on my bucket list since my family traced our lineage through DNA tests. Before news of the kidnappings broke, I'd started researching the Kanuri tribe, where our bloodline originated.
News that the kidnappers spoke Kanuri left me feeling sick - a sense of violation that brothers I had never met had done something so twisted to sisters I had not yet known.
As journalists, we often walk a line between our acute awareness of danger and death and yet somehow feeling "shielded" in the midst of it.
Like so many others, that is my prayer for the 230 Nigerian schoolgirls who were unable to escape - that somehow they will be shielded. And return home safely.
Prayer. Such a mystery. Why does one plea meet with near instant manifestation of an answer and another seemingly goes unanswered? Forever.
I've thought a lot about prayer since covering the 2010 earthquake in Haiti - so many lives lost; so few prayers met with heaven's 'yes.' And then on a return trip, doubt was erased after an experience that could have been deadly.
Our host had taken us to the pristine coast outside of Port-au-Prince. On the way back, our truck broke down. A storm was heading our way. The sun was giving off its final golden rays.
We were in trouble. The US State Department had warned travelers not to be out after dark due to a growing number of kidnappings.
"I have to get you off the road," our host turned to me - the only woman in our caravan of a half dozen Brazilian missionaries and an American EMT.
"I could never live with myself if..." his voice trailed off. Rape. Torture. God knows what.
I tried to stay hidden in the back seat while the men worked under the hood. It was one of those nights when you can feel evil in the air - like a pressure on your chest. Breaths come shallow. Nerves flinch at the slightest movement.
A man approached the truck. Picked up a large rock. I covered my face expecting the window to shatter.
Instead, he shoved the rock under the back tire to keep the truck from rolling. He never said a word, just kept walking...
We found out once we had cell signals that two of us had received calls from friends overseas with the same message: I don't know why, but I'm compelled to pray for you right NOW.
We later learned that kidnappers had abducted two people near where our truck broke down...
Will prayer help bring back the Nigerian schoolgirls? Our prayers are not always answered in ways that makes sense to us...but no prayer is ever wasted.
*Psalm 56:8
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