A Fathers Gift

Mr. and Mrs. Arrington were old when I was a kid. Although physically they were slight people, they are still some of the mightiest people I’ve known.
 Shortly before my family went to Ecuador as missionaries, the Arringtons had us over for dinner. As an eleven-year-old, I was less than thrilled. I wanted to spend the afternoon at my friend’s house, not sitting quietly while my parents visited for hours. When the older couple was out of earshot, I know I whispered more than once, “Can we go now”? The minutes dragged by.
 At some point, as we sat in their small living room, they showed us how they were using the recipe stand Dad made in arts and crafts with the VBS kids one year. Instead of recipes, it held pictures. It was their prayer calendar and when they flipped to our prayer card, I cringed. It was our first one and I had a bored smirk of a smile on my face. I’m sure it was the same expression I wore that afternoon as I tried to be patient and polite.
 Ten years passed and during that time I received a few letters from them. It wasn’t until I was newly married that the awful, bored smirk was finally wiped off my face. Mrs. Arrington wrote that even though I was grown up and out on my own, they still prayed for me every Tuesday. It was the same day they’d prayed for my family all these years.
 Every. Tuesday.
 That caught my attention and made me reach for my journal. I thumbed back through the months. Every time I came to a place where I needed an answer to prayer, God answered. Guess what day God answered? On a Tuesday. I needed to make a big decision? It was made on Tuesday. That project for school that was stressing me out? After struggling with it for days, it finally flowed and was finished—on a Tuesday. I needed to find an apartment? We found it on a Tuesday.
 Tuesday. The day Mr. and Mrs. Arrington specifically prayed for my family. The day they specifically prayed for me.
 Fast forward a couple more decades. Dad’s cancer had progressed to the point that I made a trip to visit them. During that week, their pastor stopped by. I’d like to think that I had grown up enough to keep the boredom off my face, but I’m not sure I did because I tuned out for some of the conversation. Toward the close of the visit, Dad asked how his son was doing and the pastor choked up, drawing my attention. Dad leaned forward in his chair, listening closely. As the pastor spoke, Dad pulled his Bible from the table beside his chair and opened it. He turned to where I knew he was in his Bible reading because I recognized the chronological plan he used. Behind that checklist was a well-worn, folded piece of paper covered with lines of his chicken-scratch. His finger traced down the list, coming to rest on what must have been the pastor’s son’s name. He added a few more words as he listened and nodded.
 The man left soon after, but Dad continued to jot notes in different places on his list. “When I can’t sleep at night, I pull this out and pray,” he said. That explained why the paper was so worn.
 I thought back over all the phone conversations with my dad. He was so good to call and ask how I was doing and how Jim was. He’d ask about each of my five kids. He would ask pointed questions. Suddenly, I knew how he spent the minutes after we got off the phone.
 Dad prayed specifically for each of us and the rest of our family. How many answers to prayer had we received because he was asking God for them? And how much have we missed out on because I wasn’t praying specifically like Dad?
 Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him! Matthew 7:7-11 ESV
 Prayer works!
It’s the most valuable thing you can do for a person.