A Song of Joy

“Take courage my heart, stay steadfast my soul, He’s in the waiting….”

    The singer sings in a low melodic tune drawing my attention away from the busy schedule if just for a moment. Why do I need to know that taking courage in my heart and soul is important? I can’t put it into words but I feel peace flood my heart like a mighty wave as I allow such words to be sung over me.

     Have you ever found yourself crying tears like an ocean that didn’t seem to have an end as disappointment came like a tide crashing in?  Looking in the mirror at the face that looked more like a peeled grapefruit than a composed little Christian I frowned. Lately, heartbreak has felt like it is running like a current just under the surface. Its rippling motion could be seen in the eyes and perceived in the thin smile if one would look a bit closer.

    Such moments are never wanted but happen anyway when life takes a series of turns that one least expects. All of a sudden all the foundations I have built my life upon seem to come into question. My viewpoint momentarily is blinded by the present moment.

The singer's voice gently encourages me out of despair, “Take courage my heart, and stay steadfast my soul…”

     She lived down the street from me for 3 years before I met her. Strangely enough, I could have known her my whole life as our paths almost crossed in our small community. I wouldn’t have even learned of her existence if not for a couple I met one day. On a mid-summer afternoon, I unloaded my two children to run free for a little while in the park near my parent’s home. As I strapped my toddling daughter in the bucket swing I met them. They were pushing their granddaughter next to us.

For a few minutes, we exchanged small talk until I mentioned that I lived in Washburn, a little town on the outskirts of the city. They looked at each other sadly.

“Our beloved piano teacher lives there but sadly she can’t teach piano lessons anymore. She has pancreatic cancer, we miss her.” The wife said sadly.

“That is too bad,” I said with compassion, “I wonder what street and there are only four.”

They looked at each other for a moment as the husband spoke up this time,” I think it was third street…on the corner in a pink house.”

Instantly I knew what house they were talking about, “What is her name?”

“Joy…Joy Wagner,” the wife said as her granddaughter started to fuss. They quickly left after that leaving us alone at the swings. Soon my three-year-old son grew tired of playing with his Tonka truck in the sand and asked for a snack. Elaina, the baby grew tired of the swing and wanted to get down. I knew it was time for us to go too.

    About a week later as I sipped tea with a grade school friend I mentioned the unfortunate news about the neighbor I didn’t know.

“Joy Wagner,” she said in surprise, “She was my piano teacher too, I didn’t know she lived out here. That is so sad, she was the sweetest.” My friend said regretfully.

    After she left I decided to go on a stroll with Isaiah and Elaina. I decided to turn to the right instead of the left so I could walk by the mysterious pink house with the beloved Joy Wagner in residence. As we neared her house I didn’t see a car in the driveway. I wondered if she was in the hospital. Quietly I prayed for her.

    Another few weeks passed by when I was in the car with my mom. Having a few moments away from the kids gave us the luxury of adult conversation so I shared about the unfortunate diagnosis this neighbor had received. As I mentioned her name my mother immediately knew who I was talking about. Like the others, she also agreed that Joy was a wonderful person.

I sat perplexed that so many people knew of this neighbor who was suffering from this terminal disease. How had I not met her? I also started to believe that maybe I should take the time now to meet her and pray for healing. As I thought about it I started to feel courage. My mom turned left on 3^rd Street to drop me off when I said, “Mom lets drive by and see if anyone is home at Joy Wagner’s home if so I will stop to pray for her.”

   Passing my house, on the right, she kept driving to the pink house on the corner. Cars were parked all around the house and a camper was lounging in the grass by her driveway. As we slowed the car we looked at each other not sure what it could all mean.

“Mom let's go see if we can pray for her,”I said.

“Dianne, what if she isn’t alive anymore?” she asked wearily.

    I agreed the gathering did give me a feeling of doom, but I pushed it aside.

“We won’t know unless we try,” I said as she parked the car.

     Walking slowly toward the house I tried to think of what I would say. I didn’t even know Joy I only knew of her. My mom had attended church with her twenty years ago and only knew her from a distance back then. With each step, I felt fear try to turn me back.

     Taking a deep breath I whispered to myself, “Take courage my heart, stay steadfast my soul.” Nearing the parked camper and seeing movement in the little screen window I decided to knock at the camper door first. A cheerful woman answered our knock.

“Hello, I am Dianne Singleton. I am one of Joy’s neighbors and I wondered if she is doing ok? I am a minister and was hoping I could pray for her.”

“Well hello there, I am Joy’s cousin. My husband and are missionaries with YWAM. Joy is not doing well, she has been released from hospice so the family is gathered to say our last good-bye. But if you would like to pray for her that would be just wonderful.”

   With that, she ushered us into the pink home. It was dark inside though it was the middle of the day. Cold cuts and cheese slices were spread on a tray at the dining room table where relatives were gathered in hushed voices. The joyful missionary introduced me to Joy’s two daughters and told them of my wish to pray. With deep appreciation, they brought me to her bedside.

    The room was white with a large bed in the middle. There Joy laid like a small child propped up on pillows. Her daughter leaned down to speak into her ear.

“Mama, a neighbor lady is her to pray for you. She said she is a minister and would like to believe for your healing.”

    As she spoke the family of about twenty people gathered around the bed as the missionary handed me a small bowl of oil. For a moment I panicked. I had never prayed for a person to be healed who was struggling in the throes of death. I wasn’t even sure what to say…

Take courage my heart, stay steadfast my soul.

    Shutting my eyes I turned my head toward heaven to the One who is able to heal every disease in the here and now. With my eyes shut I saw a great light off in the distance and peace as I prayed a most daring prayer.

“Dear Lord, I thank you that you are the healer. I ask you to heal Joy’s body of all cancer, Amen.”

     After singing amazing grace I said good-bye to the warm and thankful family and left with my mother. As we crossed the street to her parked car I looked at her in amazement.

     As the days passed I wondered what had become of Joy. Slowly the cars left, all except one. On the following Saturday when Brad was home for the day from work I walked down to her house. As I stood in the driveway I felt afraid of what I would learn if I knocked on the door.

Take courage my heart, stay steadfast my soul.

     I knocked on the back door three times. I waited for what seemed an eternity when I heard a stirring inside. The sound of the deadbolt unlocking captured my attention as the door opened. Before me stood her daughter.

“Hello,” I said trying not to sound nervous, “I was wondering how Joy is doing.”

    She smiled as she recognized me. “Come in, and you will find out for yourself.”

As I stepped inside the lighting was brighter as if the window shades had been opened.

“Please come in and have a seat in the living room, would you like some coffee?”

“Yes please," I said as I sat down in the sunny living room on the tan couch.”

 When she came back with a cup of coffee Joy was walking with her.

“My mother was excited that you would come to visit and wanted to meet you, the daughter said.

    Joy sat down in the chair across from me. She smiled as I told her how I had learned about her, and why I had felt I should stop the week before. With a big smile spread across her sunken cheeks, she said, “I want to thank you for thinking of me.”

Her daughter spoke up, “Mom started to feel her strength come back after you prayed and so we sent everyone home, it is a miracle.”

    After our little talk together I said goodbye and promised to stop by again.  As the door shut behind me I walked back home with such a joy in my heart words could not express. I had been a part of a miracle in this new friend’s life. 

    Over the next three months, I visited her. Her daughters would take turns driving in from out of state to spend time with their beloved mother. She was still battling the disease and I still prayed for healing but I struggled with wondering if there was something missing in my faith. Why hadn’t she been fully delivered from this wretched disease? I didn’t have an answer but I did gain a friend.

    In early November I received a call that Joy was not doing well. After a day of fervent prayer, I heard that she had passed away…

    I sat on the couch with a dull ache in my heart how did this happen? I thought for sure she would pull through. Defeat hit me like a thousand bricks. The rest of the day was a gray blur as my hope seemed to slip away. The mystery of life and the finality of death hung like a heavy garment on my shoulders.

“Why did I even try?” I thought as angry tears finally fell.

Take courage my heart, stay steadfast my soul.

    At the funeral a few days later I heard countless testimonies of how Joy impacted lives and how she demonstrated a love for God. With a frozen heart, I listened as her daughters tearfully shared the love they had for their late mother. As the minister shared his closing words, one sentence caught my attention.

“As the family gathered in August to say goodbye to Joy a miracle happened. Joy miraculously got a second wind, and for the next few months was able to share countless moments with her daughters, a treasure they will forever cherish."

    In the minister's words, I saw my purpose. It was to merely be obedient to God and step out in faith. He used that act of obedience to help Joy. Though her healing didn’t look the way I thought and hoped it would He still answered prayer. It wasn’t in vain.

    I remember that story today as I again need to "take courage my heart and stay steadfast my soul." Life doesn’t always look the way I want it to or expect it to, but one thing I am sure of…if I just hold on I will find Him in the waiting.