Growing up along the banks of the Mississippi River, the sound of Daddy praying was as common as the sound of Mother frying eggs. Like Daniel of old, Daddy prayed every day—rain or shine, sleet or snow, hail or high water.
nobody ever threw Daddy into a lions’ den for praying, many mornings I wanted
dare he disturb me before sunrise? Didn’t he know how sleepy I was? Didn’t he
care that his loud praying woke up the entire household—not to mention every
rooster in Warren county!
why did he have to mention me in his window-rattling prayers? What if I didn’t want to be
saved? What if I wanted to grow up and be the biggest sinner the South had ever
couldn’t he just leave me out of it and pray for something really
important—like a bigger house where I could have my own room with soundproof
5:16 says, “The effectual ‘fervent’ prayer of a righteous man availeth
indeed, it does. I am a witness.
prayers have sheltered me in times of trouble, and calmed me in times of storm. They've carried me when I couldn't walk, and strengthened me when I couldn't stand. They've encouraged me, and lifted me and anchored me at midnight in the midst of hurricane winds.
Today is my father's birthday. I visited with him and Mom over the weekend, and in the early
morning hours, just before dawn, I heard Daddy downstairs alone, calling my name in
a few minutes, I heard him call my daughter’s name. And then he prayed for the child
that she is about to deliver.
It was a special moment for me, one I'll
carry forever, and as tears dripped from my face, I thanked God for my
praying father and for the many fervent prayers he has prayed for me. ♦