Every time you cross my mind, I break out in exclamations of thanks to God. Each exclamation is a trigger to prayer. I find myself praying for you with a glad heart.—PHILIPPIANS 1:3–4 MSG
Joyce fought the wind and sloppy rain to the nursing home entrance. She wished she had eaten lunch at her desk. Why did she bother to brown-bag with her dad when he couldn’t remember her visits? And his roommate made things difficult. Once old Harold thought Joyce was a thief who wanted his money. The last time, he decided she was a girl he’d met on a South Pacific island during World War II. Joyce couldn’t help grinning. Which was worse?
As she walked toward her father’s room, a glad voice rang out.
“Joyce, is that you?”
“Of course it’s me.” Her spirits rose a little. He sounded like himself today.
Her dad’s eyes twinkled as she gave him a hug. “I knew you’d come. I prayed and asked the Lord to send you, and here you are—better than an angel. Joyce, honey, you’re such a blessing. Every time I think of you, I praise the Lord!”
“Praise the Lord!” said Harold from his duct-taped recliner.
Joyce often heard him use less holy language. But she’d never heard Harold praise God. She smiled and bowed her head over her yogurt and gave thanks, too.