The Power of a Prayer
About five years ago on a Saturday night, my Mom, my sister and I were at the mall picking Easter dresses out for church that Sunday. My Dad was working nights, so it was just a girls’ night out. The plan was to go to the mall first, then out to eat. However, my Dad had other plans for us.
After trying on several dresses, I finally found the one that fit right. My sister on the other hand, was taking forever. After sitting there watching her try on dress after dress, my Mom’s phone rang. To our surprise it was my Dad. He said he had been in an accident at work and to meet him at the hospital. My Dad worked at a chemical plant, so my mind started racing. Had he been hurt? Did he fall and break something? Was he about to die? All I could do was pray that everything was going to be okay.
The whole car ride to the hospital my Mom kept reassuring my sister and I that everything was going to be okay. However, with her shaky voice, I had a hard time believing her. I sat in the back seat biting my nails, thinking back to the night before. I had yelled at my Dad because he did not let me stay the night out. Sitting there I kept thinking how stupid that fight was. I just wanted to see him so I could apologize. But as the car came to a stop my legs seemed to fall asleep on me. They felt like Jell-O, but I knew I had to find the strength to get out of the car. Once again I looked up to the sky and said another prayer, asking God to help me believe everything was going to be okay, so I could get out of the car.
Once we walked through the double doors, we saw the plant manager sitting in the waiting room. He started telling us my Dad had spilled sulfuric acid on his leg, giving him third degree burns. I started thinking about all the years my Dad had coached my softball teams and how much he loved doing it. I kept thinking all sorts of “what ifs;” what if he can’t coach me anymore, what if he can’t work after this, what if he is about to lose his leg? Once again, I started praying to God, asking him to give my Dad the strength to overcome this tragedy. Just as I was saying, “amen,” I saw my Dad being wheeled down the hall. I asked him if it hurt and he just looked at me with a smile and said, “Hell yeah it hurt, you kidding me?” That is when I knew everything was going to be okay.
For the next six months after this catastrophe, my Dad was off work and in a great deal of pain. Of course he would never show it, for fear one of us would worry. I remember praying everyday, asking God to help my Dad’s pain go away. After each prayer I could see my Dad’s spirits uplift, and everyone’s worry disappear. When I think back on that day, I realize what if I would have lost my Dad. I think of all the other kids who grow up living with only a mother, a father, or worse, neither. I realize how lucky I am to have both of my parents who love me and are able to be here for me because I look up to them so much. I believe the power of love and believing in prayer is what makes things happen and is the reason my Dad is still here today.
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