Three years ago when I was hospitalized for congestive heart failure the doctor warned my recovery would be slow. My daughter Judy told me not to worry. “Everybody in my church is praying for you,” she said. Still, I was in low cotton.
In a matter of days I began to rally; in fact, in practically no time at all I felt like my old self. Even my doctor was amazed at the progress I made. He said he could see no reason why my wife, LaRue, and I couldn’t go through with our travel plans to visit Opryland in Nashville, Tennessee, on our way to visit Judy in Blue Springs, Missouri.
That day we spent in Opryland it was hot and crowded, so LaRue rested on a shady bench. While I went to find a cold drink, she discovered the two friendly ladies sitting beside her were from Missouri. They couldn’t believe it when LaRue told them we were on our way to Blue Springs to visit our daughter.
“Why, I’m from Blue Springs!” said one of the women. “What’s your daughter’s name?”
I walked up just as the woman said she was a member of Judy’s prayer chain. Then she exclaimed, “I’ve been praying for you. I thought you were really sick…What in the world are you doing standing here?”
I smiled sheepishly. If ever I had had evidence of prayer’s power, I did now. “I’m standing here,” I said, “because of you.”
