When I called my father he didn’t answer his phone. He had surgery, and I was concerned, so I called my mother.
“He’s taking too long to come out of anesthesia,” she said. “I’m waiting for the hospital to call me. Call me back in an hour.” “How long has it been?” I asked. “Just pray for him. I’ve got to go…”
I had prayed for the surgery for weeks, by then. I prayed for all aspects of it. I knew that old people, such as my dad, often have trouble coming out of anesthesia, even after routine surgery but forgot all about that by then, and it was a shock to me.
“Call back in an hour.” An hour… The next few minutes were agonizing.
To make a long story short, we were very worried. My father is beloved by everybody because he is a really nice guy. And not only that, he takes care of my mother, who can hardly walk. I thought about all these things while I was waiting to hear what would become of him.
I had several of my friends pray for him.
After what seemed like a week I called my mother for an update.
“He made it out of the anesthesia,” she said.
When was she going to tell me?
I told her she sounded well and noted the little trial we went through…
My father’s doing well, now, and so are we, fortunately. I thanked my friends for their prayers, and thanked God, especially.
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