God has a way of allowing us to be in the right place at the right time. I was walking down a dimly lit street late one evening when I heard muffled screams coming from behind a clump of bushes. Alarmed, I slowed down to listen, and panicked when I realized that what I was hearing were the unmistakable sounds of a struggle: heavy grunting,frantic scuffling, and tearing of fabric. Only yards from where I stood, a woman was being attacked.

Should I get involved? I was frightened for my own safety, and cursed myself for having suddenly decided to take a new route home that night. What if I became another statistic? Shouldn't I just run to the nearest phone and call the police?

Although it seemed an eternity, the deliberations in my head had taken only seconds, but already the girl's cries were growing weaker. I knew I had to act fast. How could I walk away from this? No, I finally resolved, I could not turn my back on the fate of this unknown woman, even if it meant risking my own life.

I am not a brave man, nor am I athletic. I don't know where I found the moral courage and physical strength---but once I had finally resolved to help the girl, I became strangely transformed. I ran behind the bushes and pulled the assailant off the woman. Grappling, we fell to the ground, where we wrestled for a few minutes until the attacker jumped up and escaped.

Panting hard, I scrambled upright and approached the girl, who was crouched behind a tree, sobbing. In the darkness, I could barely see her outline, but I could certainly sense her trembling shock. Not wanting to frighten her further, I at first spoke to her from a distance.

"It's OK," I said soothingly. "The man ran away. You're safe now." There was a long pause and then I heard the words, uttered in wonder, in amazement.

"Dad, is that you?" And then, from behind the tree, stepped my youngest daughter, Katherine.

We don't always know before we begin the result our help will have on others

Are you an answer to someone else's prayer?

This story was shared by a friend.

A woman with whom my family had been close for many years, lay dying in bed. She had been ill for a long time and had lost the ability to move. My husband and I were asked to come and visit and offer what comfort we could to the family.

Her husband and two sons were present when we arrived. After my husband offered a special prayer on her behalf I felt this feeling that I should hug the youngest son. I pulled him into a hug, and then eventually we left.

Three days later she died, and my husband and I returned to pay our final respects and again offer comfort to the family. The youngest son arrived shortly after we did. At that time, I took him to the side and I told him that I had felt the impression the last time we were there that his mother had wanted me to give him a hug.

He began crying and said that he had been praying that he would receive some sign that she loved him.

Who needs you to answer their prayer today?