Do you think God heard my prayer? Do you think He helped me?” Papa looked at the ground and scratched his head. In a sober voice, he said, “I don’t know, Billy. I’m afraid I can’t answer that. You must remember the big sycamore was the tallest tree in the bottoms. Maybe it was up there high enough to catch the wind where the others couldn’t. No, I’m afraid I can’t help you there. You’ll have to decide for yourself.” It wasn’t hard for me to decide. I was firmly convinced that I had been helped.
