God hears, answers our prayer even in the silence

The following edited story is a good example of how God answers our prayers.

“My Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon and enjoyed being outdoors pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.

“The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn’t lift a heavy log, he joked about it. Later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age.

“Four days after his 67th birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, they rushed Dad into an operating room. He was lucky. He survived but something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow the doctor’s orders.

“Offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped all together. Dad was left alone. My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.

“Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue.

“Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad’s troubled mind.

“The months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done. The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each mental health clinic listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem but got nowhere. Just when I was giving up, one sympathetic voice exclaimed, ‘I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article.’

“The article described a remarkable study done at nursing homes. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they gave them responsibility for a dog.

“I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, an officer led me down the row of pens containing five to seven dogs, all jumping up, trying to reach me. I studied each but rejected one after the other for various reasons – too big, too small, too much hair.

“As I neared the last pen, a dog in the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front and sat. It was a pointer. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hip bones jutted out in lopsided triangles, but it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. They were calm and clear.

“I pointed to the dog. ‘Can you tell me about him?’

“The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. ‘He’s a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would claim him. That was two weeks ago and we have heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow.’

As his words sank in, I turned to the man in horror. ‘You mean you’re going to kill him?’

“‘Ma’am,’ he said gently, ‘that’s our policy. We don’t have room for every unclaimed dog.’

“I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. ‘I’ll take him.'”

Continued next week.