My 5 Year Old Missionary

Asher Mexican Restaurant     Recently, a dear friend and former next door neighbor become one of my hospice patients. We had not seen each other in a few years. The patient had not seen any of my growing boys in at least four years. I was grateful for the opportunity to see my friend even if it was just a day prior to his eternal transition.

I had a great first visit with my friend who was comfortable, but clearly in his last days on earth. Surprisingly, he could still recognize who I was and carry on clear conversation. Before I left his bedside, I asked. “Is there anything else I could do for you my friend?” He said, “Yes, bring me that boy.” I was like, “What boy?” He said, “Bring me that little boy.” I said, “Are you talking about my little baby Asher?” He said, “Yes.” I said, “He is not a little baby anymore. Last time you saw him he was not quite one years old, but he is now five. But, I’ll see what I can do.”

Honestly, I really just wanted to go crawl in my bed after a very long, hard day of seeing patients. But, I knew this man might not wake up the next day. So, I went home and asked my five year old son if he would go visit my friend. It was obvious he had no idea who I was even talking about since he was just born the last time we lived near each other. But, the promise of some Mexican Cheese Dip at least got him to jump in the car with me.

As we headed to the hospital he asked. “Is Mr Tommy a boy or girl.” I said, “A boy.” He asked, “Is Mr Tommy big like you or little like me? I said, “Big like me. Son, Mr Tommy is a Grandpa.” Finally, at least he had a mental picture of who he might be visiting. I told Asher that Mr Tommy just wanted to see him. That we needed to pray for Mr Tommy and let him know that Jesus loves him. He said, “Ok, daddy.”

We finally entered his hospital room and I really didn’t know what to expect. I wondered if Mr. Tommy really wanted to see my youngest son. Even more I wondered would my five year old be alright seeing a man struggling for his next breath. I decided I would leave that to God. I then observed a very moving scene.

A man who earlier stuggled to lift an eye lid was suddenly wide eyed. He lit up when my son entered the room as my five year old sought to let God use him. We bowed our heads together for prayer. My son, simply prayed, “Dear God, please help Mr Tommy feel better.” It was a short prayer and visit, but the divine connection was obvious.

After our visit, we headed to the Mexican Restaurant as promised. My five year old son said this on the way there. “That man was a Grandpa. I’m glad I could make that Grandpa happy.” He smiled and everything within me leaped. I knew he understood something that so many miss today. It really is more blessed to give than to receive. And, it doesn’t take much to encourage a soul and be someone’s answer to prayer.

The next afternoon, Mr Tommy drew his last breath this side of Heaven. He had faith in Jesus and he had made peace with the God who called him home. And, somehow in the last twenty four hours of his life God used a five year old boy to help with that process. My friends, it’s doesn’t matter where life finds you. Young or old, God can use you. The question is, “Are you willing to let him.” You don’t have to know all the answers to life’s situations. You simply need God’s love in your heart and a willing spirit to let that love flow through you. You make yourself totally available and I guarantee God will use you.

(1 John 4:7-8) Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: