The Power of Prayer

So awhile ago our washer went out. We should have seen it coming, really. It had been making ominous clunking noises for weeks. I told Abigail that there was a monster living in there (not out of any malicious intent, you understand). My mother was the one who believed me, though, so she called up a washer repairman. He showed up and leaned over the washer, listening to the clunking and doing that knowing nod that only plumbers and appliance repairmen can pull off. He then straightened up and explained to us that the ball bearings were going out or something. We listened intently and tried, with little success, to look like we understood a word of what he was saying. The part we did understand was when he hitched up his pants the cowboy way (holding the belt buckle) and drawled, "I reckon you got 'bout six months o' use out o' this thing. I'll call you up with an estimate. Tell you how much it'll probably be to fix it." Which all sounds very promising, until you realize that the only time the washer gets any rest is when we're all asleep.
The very next day, there came from the laundry room a heartrending shriek. We all ran fast and even faster to the scene of the disaster, and we found Mommy standing hunched over the washer, murmuring over and over, "It's broken. It's broken. It's broken." Yes, the washer had died. Right in the middle of a load, filled with filthy water, it had given up the ghost, with absolutely no consideration for the desperate family it was leaving behind. After a brief, but intense, period of mourning, we scooped the dripping, itchy, detergent-y clothes out of the washer and rinsed them in the sink. Which worked out well for the time being. But then we asked ourselves, "Just how are we supposed to get the REST of our clothes washed?" The answer came in the form of a small neighborhood laundromat, which we have used for the last six weeks.
Neither Mommy nor Daddy had given much thought to a new washer. It would be rather a large expense, not to mention that we would just have to pack it up again when we move. But when Mommy woke up this morning and realized that today is Laundromat Day (which comes round twice a week and involves hauling six tons of clothes to and from the place and hauling it back home and taking days to dry it all in our dryer), she knew she couldn't just keep on like that. She turned to God, closed her eyes, and quietly asked Him to provide us with a new washer. Within the very hour Grandma called. She asked if we were still going to the laundromat, to which Mommy replied in the affirmative.
"That gets pretty expensive, doesn't it?" she asked. ".....You know what? I'm going to buy you a new washer!"
And she did! She, Grandpa, Amy, Allen, and a neighbor finished installing it this afternoon. (It's gorgeous, by the way.) Is that not amazing, fantastic, and just all around wonderful? It's just--I mean-- wow! God is so good!