Grandma and I have been keeping each other company today, while the rest of the family is at church. I fed her an amazing concoction for breakfast (puréed millet, apple, orange, parsley, raisins, almonds, and mango juice... don't worry, she liked it), and held her hand while we both enjoyed the morning sunshine streaming in her bedroom window. Now she is sleeping peacefully and I'm lying on her bed alternately looking at the computer screen and the picture of Jesus on the Road to Emmaus hanging on the wall above her recliner. My favorite picture, for as long as I can remember. I've spent countless moments staring at it wondering what it would have been like to be one of those disciples, and wishing I could walk the road myself...
Then I remembered this quote: "Many feel it would be a great privilege to visit the scenes of Christ's life on earth, to walk where He trod, to look upon the lake beside which He loved to
teach, and the hills and valleys on which His eyes so often rested. But we need not go to Nazareth, to Capernaum, or to Bethany, in order to walk in the steps of Jesus. We shall find His footprints beside the sickbed, in the hovels of poverty, in the crowded alleys of the great cities, and in every place where there are human hearts in need of consolation."
Ministry of Healing p. 105-6
I went into town with my brother a couple of days ago. While waiting for him, I dropped in on a friend to wish her a happy birthday. She was having a rough day, and held on long to my embrace. We talked. I told her I would be praying for her.
Next I found myself on my knees by a bedside, talking to a precious little lady recovering from another fall. The room was sunlit and inviting, but her face was lined with sorrow. I held the wrinkled hand in mine and prayed with her, trying my best to cheer her. How good it was to see a wisp of a smile replace the weary look on her face at last! I kissed her hand and promised to come again soon.
Then it was "my dear doctor" as I affectionately refer to him. When I entered his little home, young face and older face lit up simultaneously. It was good to see him again. To celebrate with him his 81st revolution around the sun. In the months since I last visited him, I've been all over the globe. He has been right here in his living room. Both of us seeking to know our Father and do His will for us, in our respective seasons of life. The time flew by as we talked animatedly on subjects of keen interest to us both.
I talked to his caretaker for a moment on my way out. "This is the best medicine" he said, as we both stole another glance at the dear, gentle face.
On our way home, we stopped by our neighbors. The kiddos came running out of the house- some barefoot, others with socked feet. Excited because we were coming to see their little goats as promised.
Moments later they had thrust a baby in my arms. He squirmed a bit, then settled in contentedly. I felt his silky soft ears between my fingers and looked at the darling freckled faces around me, talking all at once.
And there, my boots sinking slowly in the muddy goat pen, in middle-of-nowhere-New-Mexico-- even there, I traced His footprints. They were everywhere I had been that day. They are right here now, beside my grandma's recliner.
I hear the call, soft and clear~
Look for My footprints. And cherish the journey while you follow them.
May I ever do so, Lord Jesus.