One day, my uncle came home very discouraged. He told me Dad was going to die. He said I needed to go and see him and that I needed to pray. That day I cried. The thought of losing my father was scary. My stepmother said God would heal him, but everyone else had lost hope. Dad was just too sick. He couldn’t sit, walk or eat. He didn’t recognize people anymore.
I didn’t sleep that night. I prayed to the Lord, and I read my Bible. I prayed until 10 p.m.
I read Psalm 120:1 …
“I call on the Lord in my distress, and he answers me.” (NIV)
At 3 a.m. I woke up and prayed some more. We were going to see Dad later that day, so I prayed that by the time I got to the hospital, Dad would have the strength to sit up in his bed. I prayed until 4 a.m.
I read Isaiah 59:1 …
“Surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save, nor his ear too dull to hear.” (NIV)