A Spring of Joy

Wednesday morning while at the hospital, I was lying in my bed, praying for peace. There was a knock a the door, and an older gentleman was standing there. He was dressed in his volunteer vest and was grinning from ear to ear. “May I come in?”, he asked. I invited him in and got a closer look, “I know you.” I said. “And I have seen your face before.” he replied. And he had. It was Grandaddy Smith, my best friend, Beth’s great-uncle. Having spent time with Beth’s extended family, Brian and I have had our share of Grandaddy Smith, and it’s a fun share to have. We’ve been to Christmas parties, Thanksgiving dinner, meals with him at First Pres., summer get-togethers, and just plain ol’ dinner with him at Uncle Craig’s. “I’m Beth’s best friend.” I told him. His face lit up even more, “And so you are!” he exclaimed, hands raised.

Grandaddy Smith came into my room with a vibrancy that belied his age. He stood by my bedside and talked with me for a while. We talked about Brian and the children, his excitement to be a great-grandaddy, his volunteering at the hospital and my battle with cancer and discouragement. A few minutes later, Christmas carolers began walking the halls, and Mr. Smith ran to the door waving at each person and hollering “Merry Christmas!” as they passed by. He turned and told me how good it was to see me but he had others to see, and he was gone.

I closed my eyes and prayed some more, thanking God for giving me a smile that day, when there was another knock at the door. Mr. Smith was back. “A few years ago,” he asked, “Were you at Beth’s mother’s house for Christmas? You played the piano and Brian played the trumpet and we all sang carols?” When I told him I was, he nodded, “I just wanted to be sure of who you are.” He then told me he’d be back on Saturday and how torn he was because he wanted to see me again, but he didn’t want me to have to stay in the hospital. With a wave and a “God be with you,” Mr. Smith was off again to cheer up another patient.

Move to Thursday. Brian hadn’t arrived yet from home, and I was alone in my room. There was a knock at the door, and there stood Grandaddy Smith! “I just couldn’t let you leave the hospital without seeing you again.” he exclaimed. I beckoned him in, and he told me how he had thought about me all day the day before. “I just want to sing you something, if you can bear my voice.” he said. He cleared his throat, and began to sing, “God will take care of you, through every day, o’er all the way. He will take care of you. God will take care of you.” That was the first of several hymns he sang while I held his hand and cried. “Now,” he said, “You’re allowed to leave before Saturday.” With another “God be with you”, a squeeze of my hand, and a wave, the angel in my room was gone.

Never a trial that He is not there,
Never a burden that He doth not bear,
Never a sorrow that He doth not share,
Moment by moment, I’m under His care.

Moment by moment I’m kept in His love;
Moment by moment I’ve life from above;
Looking to Jesus till glory doth shine;
Moment by moment, O Lord, I am Thine.

Never a heartache, and never a groan,
Never a teardrop and never a moan;
Never a danger but there on the throne,
Moment by moment He thinks of His own.

Moment by moment I’m kept in His love;
Moment by moment I’ve life from above;
Looking to Jesus till glory doth shine;
Moment by moment, O Lord, I am Thine.

Never a weakness that He doth not feel,
Never a sickness that He cannot heal;
Moment by moment, in woe or in weal,
Jesus my Savior, abides with me still.

Moment by moment I’m kept in His love;
Moment by moment I’ve life from above;
Looking to Jesus till glory doth shine;
Moment by moment, O Lord, I am Thine.
(Daniel W. Whittle)