PRAY FOR ME
By Phoebe Leggett
Angela flinched as Wayne dropped the phone on the nightstand and climbed into bed.
“What’s the matter? she asked as she slid into bed and turned out the light. “Are you
“You know how stubborn my dad is. I know he needs prayer, but he’ll never ask.”
“So, when you’re sick, who gets to pray for you?”
“A preacher of course; but not just any preacher. I want a tongues talking, fire-
baptized, laying-on-of-hands kind of preacher to pray for me.”
“I don’t care where he’s from as long as he knows how to pray.” Wayne relaxed
and slid under the blanket.
“Do you want him to bring a snake?”
©.2012 Phoebe Leggett
Visit me online at www.phoebe-leggett.com