"I guess you were expecting me," he said. "No, who are you?".
"I'm the new associate at your local church," the pastor replied. "When I saw the empty chair, I figured you knew I was going to  show up."
"Oh yeah, the chair," said the bedridden man. "Would you mind closing the  door?"
Puzzled, the pastor shut the door.

"I've never told anyone this, not even my daughter," said the man.   "But  all of my life I have never known how to pray. At church I  used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it always went right over   my   head. I abandoned any attempt at prayer," the old man continued, "until  one  day about four years ago my best friend said to me, 'Joe, prayer is just   a  simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here's what I suggest:
Sit down on a chair; place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith   see  Jesus on the chair. It's not spooky because he promised, 'I'll be with   you  always. 'Then just speak to him and listen in the same  way you're doing  with me right now.'

So, I tried it and I've liked it so much that I do it a couple of hours  every day.  I'm careful, though. If my daughter saw me talking to an   empty  chair, she'd either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny   farm." The pastor was deeply moved by  the story and encouraged the old   guy  to continue on the journey. Then he prayed with him, and returned to the church.

Two nights later the daughter called to tell the pastor that her daddy   had  died that afternoon.
"Did he seem to die in peace?" he asked.
"Yes, when    I   left the house around two o'clock, he called me over to his bedside, told    me  one of his corny jokes, and kissed me on the cheek.  When I got back from   the store an hour later, I found him dead.  But there was something strange,  in fact, beyond strange-really weird.  Apparently, just before Daddy    died,   he leaned over and rested his head on a chair beside the bed."
 --author unknown