A shared hospital room with my failing Grandma. She was a spunky and sassy ol’ gal. A straight-shooter, with a witty come-back. I immediately fell in love with her. If we had been born in the same era, we would have been kindred spirits, I’m sure of it.
Her cancer cap hung crooked on her matted, ghostly hair. Soft, curly hair is such a gift to the chemo-ridden body; like bright tulips emerging from hard winter, it offers hope in cupped hands.
“You look so beautiful in that hat,” I would always tell her. She’d smile, and her bashful thank you made me smirk.
My grandmother’s health was failing, and she could no longer have a shared room. My new friend got moved down the hall to her own suite. I searched for her, the stench of hospital stinging my nostrils. Oh yes, here she is.
Sitting next to her bedside, I felt compelled to share with her Jesus. She told me that in all her ninety something years of living, she had never heard of this Savior named Jesus. I asked her if she would like to accept Him as her Savior, and she agreed.
After praying, she looked up at me with the most amazing grin. That was beautiful. Do you think Jesus will remember me when I see Him?
I’ll never forget those words, or her face, or her witty sense of humor. I also won’t forget how I was compelled to share Jesus with a dying woman and how she said yes. Don’t ever be afraid to share Jesus. Don’t limit what God can do, even on a death bed of a ninety year old woman.
She waved a crooked finger at me, as if to say, come here. Barely a whisper, I had to lean in to hear what she was saying. “Don’t tell anyone I got this for you!” She proudly handed me a homemade cancer cap, just like the one I had complimented her on so often. It’s one of the most special gifts I’ve ever received.