Article December 24, 2012 Issue

It's never too late to pray

Deborah Packer

Each time I witness a demonstration of God’s power, I am profoundly grateful—but some healings continue to bless me in tangible ways many years after they’ve occurred. This is one of those experiences.

Christmas in Canberra, Australia, is typically hot and dry, and this day—two days after the holiday—was a particularly hot one. My son, 13 years old at the time, asked if we could drop him and his friend at the public swimming pool in town. My husband and I needed to do some grocery shopping, so we agreed to drop the boys off and pick them up in a couple of hours when we had finished. Both boys were confident swimmers, and we knew the pool was well supervised.

When we returned to collect the boys, we parked in the car park adjacent to the pool, and my husband offered to run in while I waited in the car. The car park was busy with children and families coming and going. Loud shouting drew my attention to a group of teenagers who were leaning on a small car. They weren’t aggressive, but their language was colorful and they appeared to be somewhat intoxicated. They were all smoking and drinking beer from cans. Quickly they piled into the tiny car and sped out of the car park. As they drove off, they threw their beer cans and cigarettes out the windows.

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