I've been using the word "warrior" lately to describe most of my dad's visitors during his hospitalization. I'm glad I chose that word. You see, these visitors proudly, joyfully and willingly hold my dad's hand and pray with him and whoever else is in the room. They are brave soldiers and experienced fighters using the best weapon in the fight against cancer. These warriors pray, pray, and pray some more. They pray in love, in admiration, in adoration of our heavenly Father and in their deep felt love for my dad.
The warriors just keep showing up for the fight. Especially today. My dad took a turn for the worse. Right now he is in ICU with a respirator, low blood pressure, anemia and fighting an infection. I emailed a friend at 6:30am and the wildfire of praying warriors began. The text messages and emails poured in. By 8:30am a warrior walked into my dad's ICU room to pray for him, whisper in his ear, comfort my mom, my whole family. A few more warriors showed up. And they prayed. Men and women who willingly fight the brave fight for my dad. (At this writing he has had a blood transfusion, his blood pressure is slowly improving and still on the respirator)
I thought I was done crying. I guess not.
I tell you, if I am loved half as much as my dad when I'm his age, I will be truly blessed.
These warriors have reminded me what a difference being a prayer warrior makes.
I am glad I chose that word.
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