Great post on the power of a praying parent:
When I was 5 I remember waking up early one morning and hearing noises down the hallway. It was early. It was dark.
I remember wanting to sprint into my mommy and daddy’s room to tell them someone was in our house.
I started down the hallway and the closer I got to their room the louder the noises got. They turned from noises to whispers. I stopped in front of their door and now knew the whispers were coming from the office next to their room.
I was not a brave child. I cried watching episodes of Webster and Punky Brewster. So I do not know what came over me. But instead of walking into my parents room I turned left. And I approached the office door.
By this point the whispers had turned into a mix of speaking and weeping. And I recognized the voice. It was my dad’s. But who was he talking to? Who was he crying to?
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