My family sat at my father’s bedside, watching him struggling with all of his might to breathe. He had a heart attack, and he had an infection in his blood stream. The doctor’s advised my mother, two brothers, and me to call in our family. His doctor told us that he would not live through the night.

We sat there holding his hands, unable to hold back the tears that were streaming down our faces. None of us spoke; we all knew my father was a very sick man. His body was already greatly weakened by sickness, and we knew that this last heart attack and infection, was too much for him to fight off by himself.

All that we could do was pray. Our family and friends started pouring into the hospital to visit with my father one last time, or so we thought. We sat by his side holding hands and praying. My cousin called a pastor to come visit us. He arrived, and we prayed some more.

The doctor’s had my father on comfort measures only. The diagnosis they were giving us was getting worse every time.

The hospital admitted him to intensive care. We were only allowed to see him every four hours or so. So, when the doctor’s came and called my mother out of the waiting room at six thirty a.m., she was terrified thinking that he had passed away. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. They came to tell her that my father was awake. He had been unconscious every since he arrived at the emergency room the morning before. My mother and older brother were shocked and very thankful. The nurse told them that they could go see my father. And they did just that, when they got to his door they were amazed to see him sitting up on the side of his hospital bed, drinking a cup of coffee. He was still very weak and he didn’t remember anything that had happened to him the day before, which I am thankful for. But, none the less he was alive and speaking to us.

He has a long way to go before he completely recovers, but I feel in my heart he would not have made it through that terrifying ordeal, had we not all come together in prayer. God heard our prayers that day, and touched my father with his healing hands.

I’ve always heard stories such as the one I’m telling now, but I have never experienced the power of prayer, in this form until my father had his second heart attack. The power of prayer is amazing. If you lift up your voice to the Lord, he will hear you.