"Mommy, pray for Miss Duncklee!” “Mommy, pray for Miss Duncklee!” Sharon Ballweber, pastor’s wife in Finley, North Dakota, felt her apron strings pulling with urgency as her five year old, Janelle, drew her attention.
Kneeling down she asked, “What do you want honey?”
“Mommy, we need to pray for Miss Duncklee. Can we pray for Miss Duncklee?” Janelle repeated.
There in a mother-daughter embrace they prayed for Miss Duncklee, a single missionary who had visited their little Assembly of God church some months before. When the amen was said, Janelle ran off to play and Sharon went about her housework for the day.
Not too long later there was a tugging again. “Mommy, pray for Miss Duncklee!” “Mommy, pray for Miss Duncklee!” Sharon knelt again and asked, “What is it, dear?”
Again Janelle insisted they pray for Miss Duncklee. Again they stopped and prayed.
This happened a number of times throughout the day. When the little girl was tucked into bed, her mother sat down and penned a letter to Miss Duncklee. “Did anything of significance happen on this date? Were you in any danger? My five year old daughter, Janelle, kept wanting to pray for you all day.”
Meanwhile, in Liberia, West Africa, a single lady missionary crossing a river had been bitten. No one saw the creature, but the physical response told everyone familiar with Liberian survival that a snake had attacked.
Two weeks later on a Friday night Miss Mildred Duncklee lay dying on the soil of Africa. She had come here to share Jesus. She knew she could give her life for these people. She knew the dangers, but must she die of the bite of a snake? There was so much more to do. “Oh God, please have somebody pray.” “I’m loosing the power to even pray for myself.”
Throughout the two weeks those with her had prayed over her poisoned body. Unable to do anything, they watched her fade. That Friday night everyone knew she was dying. Would anyone pray? Would God do the impossible?
Saturday morning came. They came to check. Miss Duncklee was not dead. She awoke well. She was healed. The battle was over and she was on the winning side. Someone had gone to the high places and done battle on her behalf. “Who was this mighty warrior?”, she wondered. “Who had God called on to pray? Whose strings had God tugged on to get their attention? With whom had God joined in a Father-child embrace on my behalf?” She may never know. But she knew that somewhere, someone had prayed and she was healed. She got up and walked thirteen hours that day to the next place she was to minister.
A Letter from Home
Some weeks later Miss Duncklee received a letter from the Ballwebers in Finley, North Dakota. Receiving personal mail from home was always a delight. The mighty prayer warrior turned out to be a five year old: A little girl with sandy blond hair. Miss Duncklee remembered Janelle. She couldn’t sit still in church during the missions presentation. But God had used a five year old to pray and save her life. Thank you God for the receptive heart of a child. Thank you God for a godly mother. Thank you God for your hand so evident.
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This story took place in 1969. Recently Janelle called Mildred (Duncklee) Flack and they visited about that special day. “Miss Duncklee” spent 31 years in Liberia. (Beside Janelle’s prayers, God had tugged on the heart of a man in a wheel chair in Butte, ND to pray). Mildred Flack now resides in New York with her husband. Now thirty-one years later, Janelle (Ballweber) Nelson and I are preparing ourselves to go to Kenya, Africa as missionaries.
6J’s
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