The prayer of a child

My dad had surgery last week to replace a bum knee. Not a bum’s knee, a bum knee. The morning of his surgery we called him (over the internet, how cool is that?) and unprompted, my son prayed for his Grandpa that Jesus would keep him safe and have a good surgery. I sat, somewhat misty-eyed, amazed at how sensitive he can be sometimes.

The best part is, his prayer worked. Dad came through the surgery just fine.

That same thing has happened before. He prayed for the power to come back on (it goes off here much more often than in some parts of the world, which is a real bummer when you are in the elevator at the time) once, and within seconds it was back on. We all sat amazed, and he just looked at us as if to say “What else did you expect? I prayed, so of course it was going to happen.” Oh, if only we could all have that kind of faith.