Eleven years ago on Halloween, I was pregnant and scared. Our son wasn’t due till Christmas, but I’d been besieged by premature labor since my 19th week of pregnancy. On bed rest with months to go, I prayed, “Please, God, grant Luke’s wish for a baby brother for Christmas.”

It all started on a walk to the park. Luke was four years old, and desperate for a brother. I’d recently become a believer, but Scott wasn’t a Christian yet. Luke had been pestering both of us for a brother, but Scott insisted we were done having kids.

“Our family is perfect, Luke. Don’t you think it’s perfect?” Scott asked Luke as they walked to the park that day.

“If I had a brother our family would be perfect,” said Luke. “Well, that’s not happening,” Scott told him. “You have two big sisters and they love you very much.”

Shortly after that, Luke came to me. “I really want a brother,” he begged. “Can I ask Santa for a brother for Christmas?”

“You can if you want to,” I told Luke. “But you should ask Jesus instead. Santa doesn’t bring babies. But Jesus can make anything happen.”

“I want to ask Jesus for a brother!” Luke said all excited now.

So we knelt down together and Luke prayed for a brother for Christmas. Since Christmas had just passed, I didn’t feel pressured by this prayer. The prayer that really mattered to me at the time was my husband’s salvation. How I longed for Scott to believe in Jesus. This had transformed my life, and I deeply desired for my husband to know God, too.

I was a born again Catholic in those days taking Luke to daily mass with me. Then several days a week after mass, I’d drop Luke off at a Baptist preschool where he was learning all these adorable Jesus songs. Small, blond, and cute as a button, Luke was the Jesus freak in our home. He’d jump up on the back of the couch and sing as loud as he could, “I may never march in the infantry, ride in the calvary, shoot the artillery, but I’m in the LORD’s army, yes, sir!”

And after praying together on our knees, Luke walked around telling everyone Jesus was bringing him a brother for Christmas next year. This left Scott kind of speechless and me filled with hope. I’d always dreamed of having five boys, but after three hard pregnancies, the second resulting in a premature baby that almost died, I was afraid to ever get pregnant again.

I was also wrestling in prayer for a sixteen year old boy fighting bone cancer at the time. Zack was a beautiful kid, and when I saw him at Christmas he looked strong and handsome. Not sick at all. But by spring, this special boy was on death’s door. “Please, Lord I begged. “Don’t let Zack die. Please heal this beautiful boy. You are Jesus. You can do anything!”

But Zack died, and the week he died, surprise of all surprises, I discovered I was pregnant. We weren’t trying to get pregnant. Scott was still saying our family was perfect just the way it was with three kids, but somehow I’d ended up expecting, and Luke insisted his brother would arrive come Christmas because he’d prayed to Jesus for a brother.

After Zack’s death, my prayer life took a hit, so while Luke’s bright faith encouraged me, when I developed problems four months into my pregnancy, fear became my daily companion. So did the bed. After being in the hospital to stop my labor at 21 weeks, I was put on strict bed rest and Luke got sent to preschool full time. The Baptist preschool only offered mornings, so Luke went down the road to a public preschool. But this didn’t dim his childlike faith and he continued to sing all his cute Jesus songs while telling everyone Jesus was bringing him a brother for Christmas.

Then Halloween rolled around. I’d been in bed for about two months already, taking medication to stop my contractions, drugs that made my heart pump all funny, and fear had grown into a monster in my life. By Halloween, I was so discouraged, I decided to turn on some Christmas music hoping to dispel the darkness.

And it was amazing. Absolutely amazing how the darkness lifted and the light poured in as Christmas music filled our house and settled my heart.

After his birth on Dec. 23, our baby came home Christmas Eve that year, our family’s traditional day of opening presents. Filled with joy and thankfulness, I placed John in Luke’s proud arms as we opened Christmas presents in my parents’ living room. “Here’s your baby brother for Christmas. Thank Jesus for this present,” I told Luke.

Today Luke tells everyone, “Be careful what you pray for. I asked Jesus for a brother for Christmas and He gave me four of them!”

And that spring when baby John was four months old, Easter week to be exact, Scott became a believer, too.

Now every year on Halloween I play Christmas music to remind me God is bigger than anything we fear. Any crisis we face. Any bad thing that comes our way. God is incredible and He loves us.