My wife and I help with a meal delivery program for shut-ins once a week. I am very tempted to say it is no big deal. After all, it takes us just a couple of hours once a week. Still, it is a way to show the love of Jesus to others in a small way. And small things really are a big deal. Mother Theresa said,” In this life, we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love.” So be encouraged; whatever “small thing” you may do in Jesus’ name makes a difference.
Our route repeats each week. So, we’ve become familiar with the names and the people we serve. For the most part, they are elderly. Some have caregivers who are often relatives, sons, daughters, or spouses. There are always smiles of gratitude. Gratitude for the meal delivered, of course. But often a smile of gratitude because there is a friendly face to visit with on their doorstep.
Now, usually, my job is to drive from house to house and help get the meals ready for delivery at each stop. My wife, who is particularly gifted with a contagious smile and an encouraging word, usually takes each meal to the door. But, as it happens with busy schedules, there are times when either my wife or I are out of town. So, we will do our deliveries by ourselves in the other’s absence. That was the situation last week.
All was going well, even in my wife’s absence. Nothing unusual until I came to the last home. I walked up the wheelchair ramp, as always, to deliver the meal. Each time I’ve come to the door, there has been a paper sign attached to it. The sign gave instructions to knock since Mark, the resident, couldn’t hear the doorbell. No sign was posted on this day, though. The first indicator that something was different.
At this particular house, Mark’s caregiver was his daughter. I’d never actually met Mark since his daughter would always open the door, about halfway, and accept the meal. We exchange brief greetings. She says, Thank you. I smile, walk away, and proceed to the next stop. Not on this day. I knocked. No answer. I knock again. The door opens slightly. I see her from a darkened room. I am concerned that I might have woken her up. But something worse. She says simply, “he passed away.”
I was a bit taken aback. Not that someone dying on this delivery to elderly shut-ins was unusual. It had happened before. But normally, we’d be informed in advance not to deliver. In this case, it appeared that Mark had passed in the night, perhaps within a few hours, or even less. I didn’t know. I stood, momentarily dumbfounded. After a long moment, I finally managed to say, “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
I walked back to my car. Still slightly shocked. As I drove off, the thought struck me: I didn’t do the one best thing I could have done in the situation. I didn’t pray for her. I didn’t say five simple words: “Can I pray for you?” I could make excuses. To my surprise, I wasn’t thinking straight. Or maybe, I could have told myself she may not have wanted me to pray for her. I might have made her uncomfortable. I suppose it happens, but I’ve never had anyone refuse to let me pray for them. I just missed the opportunity.
It wouldn’t be productive to heap too much guilt on myself. Or you, for that matter! You’ve probably been in a similar situation. Have you felt, just as I have, the Spirit prompting you to pray for someone, and you passed up the opportunity? I’m not sure I could count the times. The point is not to feel guilty but to ask God to help us to do better. We can take the “small things” that we do and make them better. How? Simply by adding prayer whenever we have the opportunity.
Paul writes that “…as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience” (Col 3:12). Is there a better way to show “compassion” or “kindness” than by praying for someone?
The Psalmist writes, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” Psa 34:18. I’m certain that if I prayed with this woman, standing on a doorstep in the cold, she may have felt, in some small way, that “The Lord is near.” God may have used my prayer so that she would feel comfort when she was “brokenhearted.”
I regret missing the opportunity to pray with this woman in her loss. But I won’t let regret overwhelm me. I’ll ask God to help me remember five simple words, “Can I pray for you?” Then, I’ll ask Him to give me the courage to actually speak the words and pray with whomever will allow me to. How about you?
Written by David Foucar
This is an updated edition of a post originally published on Christian Grandfather Magazine
Featured Image by A. C. on Unsplash
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