* * * * *
I have had some wonderful experiences in my year of volunteer work at the Tioga Manor Nursing home. One, especially, I would like to relate here. (Taken from my book, Trials and Triumphs.)
One day a dear saintly lady said to me, "I wish you would go visit my sister." I had often visited her but had not seen her for a while. I promised the lady I would visit her after I finished my Bible class that day. As we walked to her room, her sister told me, "One of the last things she said before she went into a coma, was that she was a Christian and loved the Lord." She said she had not responded to anything for some time now. We entered her room and walked up to her bedside and stood looking down at her. Her mouth was gaped open and she was breathing very heavily. Her eyes were open and she was staring unseeing into space. She wasn't aware that we were there. Her sister and I talked a few minutes as we stood by her bed, and then I bent over her and asked, "Do you know Jesus? Jesus loves you." The tears started to trickle down her cheeks. I continued, "I'd like to pray for you."She responded in a very faint whisper, "Pray." As I prayed, she shook with emotion. When I finished, I looked at her and could tell she was rational, so I said, "Here's your sister." She turned and looked at her and I felt sure she recognized her. It was a wonderful miracle, all because of the power in the name of Jesus. She passed away a few days later and I believe she is with the Saviour whom she loved.
Let Us Run with Patience the Race That Is Set Before Us
In concluding this book, I would like to relate a story I read in our local newspaper about a man running in a race.
It had taken the man eight years to get to this unforgettable moment. He was running ahead of everyone else and was halfway to the finish line, when he went down as if he had been shot.
He had had five operations on his Achilles tendons, left and right, but had felt he could qualify for the final and win a medal. But as he ran, his right hamstring popped.
"I heard the pop," he said, "I felt the pull, and I went down."
He was there a few seconds, sitting on the track with his hand on his head. Eight years ends in a heap. The roar of the crowd sounds like a flogging, and all you can think of is, "Why is this happening?"
Medical people came on to the track, and he pushed them away.
"There ain't no way I'm getting on that stretcher," he said. "I'm going to finish my race.
At this point, a man was seen double-timing it down the endless steps, from his perch way up at the top of the stadium. He brushed past the security people, ignoring the pleas and the scowls, the threats from the police, and jumped the wall and ran the hundred yards or so to the fallen man.
Who was it? It was the fallen man's father. There had been an agreement between the two that no matter what, the son would finish the race.
The father grabbed up the son in his big arms, and together they finished the race, with the son hopping the last two hundred meters on his one good leg, while 65,000 people cheered them on.
"I had to get him to the finish line," his father stated, "I'm his father. If he's hurt, I'm going to help him."
In Straight Paths Page 31
