As some of you know, my great-grandfather passed away in October. My grandfather was a wonderful man but he never believed in God. He'd get angry if you brought the subject up. Well, he came to know Jesus while he was on his death bed. My Grandmother recently wrote a story about it and sent it to Guideposts magazine. I just thought I'd share the story.
God Answers Prayer
This is a true story, but when I wrote it first I wrote it to sell to Guideposts magazine. I wasn't satisfied with it after I read it. It was like a snapshot, one dimensional. I then decided to rewrite it not to sell it but as it happened.
My ninety-five year old father and eighty year old stepmother were "dyed in the wool" athiests. My husband, who passed away last May would witness to them until he turned blue in the face, to no avail. Dad was blessed with good health and a comfortable income. Last February, however, he fell at the gas station, while filling up his car, and broke his pelvic bone. This was the beginning of his decline. He was suddenly unable to excercise and finally because of calcium deposits that settled on his spine and siatic nerve he was unable to walk.
"It's getting hard for me to take care of your dad. I don't know how much longer I can do this." Ruth, my stepmother's words rang in my ear. It was October, eight months after dad's fall. He could only stand long enough to get into his wheelchair. He was in terrible pain.
"I'm coming right down," I replied without hesitation. The next day I flew five hundred miles to their home in San Diego. I spent a week with them helping them to get nursing care through Hospice and through their insurance. I was familiar with Hospice because they had helped me when my husband passed away.
I returned home on Saturday, October 9, 2004. At home I felt a great restlessness and wanted to go back to dad's and Ruth's, but I thought to myself, "Bonnie, you can't keep going back and forth to San Diego."
I was talking to my dear friend, Debbie, about how I felt and she immediately said, "Bonnie, I give you permission to go. That is the only father you're ever going to have." She also told me that she was going to pray that I would lead my father to Jesus and that I would have positive verification that he accepted. Another friend was praying the same prayer and many women in my Bible study were praying for him.
Permission was all I needed. I flew to San Diego the next day, October 15. I was shocked when I got there to see how dad had failed in just five days. He was no longer in his recliner, he was lying in a hospital bed. He could no longer even stand. That night, dad's breathing became labored. Ruth and I were at his bedside. He was very hard of hearing and his new hearing aids were not working properly, so they weren't in his ears. I thought he was dying so when Ruth stepped out of the room for a moment, I thought, "Now is my only chance." I was afraid to pray with dad in front of Ruth because they both seemed to have such an aversion to Christianity.
"Dad, dad," I shouted in his better ear, "Pray with me. Jesus, please forgive my sins and come into my heart!" I looked up and Ruth had come into the room. "Oh, I hope you don't mind," I said.
"No," she said, "go right ahead."
At this time the Hospice nurse, Mary Grace came in. She checked dad and gave him some medicine and he rallied.
Two nights later, on October 16, dad became nauseated and began to breathe heavily again. We called Mary Grace and she arrived about 45 minutes later. She checked dad and then she came to me and said, "Your father doesn't have much longer to live."
"How much longer does he have?" I asked, tears welling up in my eyes.
"I don't know, but not much longer," she said.
I began to cry, "But he can't go. He can't go until he's saved. If he's saved I can let him go." I was distraught. "Call the chaplain," I cried. I felt so offensive praying with him Thursday night, and I didn't know if he had heard me, so I figured the chaplain would be the one to lead him to God.
Mary Grace said, "There's not time for the chaplain to get here. If you have something to say to your father, you should do it now. Go in and tell him he's going to be all right."
Ruth was crying too and said, "Some of this ismy fault. Go in and talk to your dad."
With their encouragement I went in and spoke into dad's better ear again. "Dad, dad," I said, "You're going to be all right. Pray with me, dad. 'Jesus, please forgive my sins and come into my heart. I know you died for my sins.' You're going to be all right, dad." Dad's face was the picture of peace. I thought he was gone and looked up at Mary Grace.
"He's still here," she said. "You can still talk to him."
The peace I sawin my dad, that I felt in my heart, was beyond description. Beyond any peace I had ever seen or felt. "Dad, you're the greatest dadin this world. I love you, dad. You're the greatest dad in the world." My dad peacefully walked into the arms of Jesus as I spoke to him.
What a great honor it was for me to be used by my Heavenly Father to bring my earthly father to him in his last moments on this earth.
"I think he's gone now," Mary Grace said kindly.
The peace lingered in my heart and left me with no doubt that my dad had heard me and had accepted Jesus as his Saviour. But later when Ruth and I were talking God gave me complete verification, just as my friends had prayed that I would have.
"Didn't you know that your dad was mouthing the words when you prayed with him the first time, on Thursday night?" Ruth said to me.
God answers prayer.
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