"Before we partake of the food, I would like to lead in prayer..." Daddy had announced in a loud voice to the other patients in the room. My stepmother hurried to the bedside and reminded him we were not in church, could he give thanks before the FAMILY ate?
We changed gears, a little at a time.
Daddy adapted to his new "wheelchair ministry" mindset of spreading cheer in a place dominated by misery. First, he hung the "Beginning Driver" sticker around his neck and rode his wheelchair around, drawing smiles everywhere he went. Then he made sure to ask names and thank custodians and caretakers, expressing appreciation to every staff worker.
A faithful visitor was a Takashi Nishino, a quiet young man from church. Most visits, he'd greet my Dad when he arrived then wait at the foot of the bed, available to do anything if he was ever needed; then said good evening when it was time to leave. Most people wouldn't have the patience for this--especially young people--but Takashi did.
His mother, a Christian and nurse, had been told she could not give birth, but she had told God--as Hannah in the Old Testament did--she would raise her son to serve God if He would give her a child.
Her husband, a non-Christian, couldn't believe it, when a son was indeed born to them. In the middle of college, that son saw his pastor was no longer able to stand behind the pulpit, and dropped studies in psychology, announced intention to start Bible School!
Daddy went to be with the Lord in 2016, but I wish he could see the young man who came to the hospital, quietly asking if there was anything he could do.
For a while now he has been pastoring--was just married last year--and has been asking GOD if there's anything HE needs the flock to do.
