Taking Mrs. Randall to Jesus

By Linda Porter Carlyle

Joseph Anderson Donetti frowned at the news. “I thought Mrs. Randall would get well fast!” he exclaimed. “We’ve been helping her a lot!”

“I know,” G.M. agreed. “You, Mac, and your friends have been very faithful in helping Mrs. Randall. But her broken arm is just healing really slowly. She’s a little discouraged.”

Joseph sighed. “I can’t think of anything else we can do to help her,” he said.

“I know something you can do to help me,” G.M. suggested with a twinkle in her eye. “My truck needs a bath.”

“Awesome!” Joseph whooped. “I like washing the truck! Maybe Mac will help me like she did last time.”

“Then it’s a good thing it’s a hot day because if I remember the last time correctly, the two of you looked like drowned rats by the time you’d finished!” G.M. chuckled.

Joseph clumped down the back porch steps. He hooked the green garden hose to the faucet by the garage. He filled a bucket with soapy water and rounded up an old towel to scrub with. Then he checked to see that the truck’s windows were rolled all the way up.

Joseph grinned to himself, remembering. That was the very first thing he had learned about washing cars. He had never washed a car before he came to Oregon. In the old neighborhood, he and Mom hadn’t had a car. They didn’t need one there. In the old neighborhood, a person could go anywhere he wanted to go just by walking or taking a city bus. The first time he had washed G.M.’s truck, he hadn’t even thought about checking the windows. What a mess!

Joseph sprayed water all over the old black truck. It glistened in the hot summer sunshine.

“Hey!” Mac called. Her back door banged, and she jumped off the porch.

“Want to help me wash the truck?” Joseph asked. He pointed the hose at Mac.

“Don’t you dare squirt me!” Mac exclaimed, carefully keeping out of range. “I have to go to town with my mom in a little while. I don’t have time for a water fight. But if I did, you’d get wetter than I would! Just like last time!” she teased.

“Too bad!” Joseph said. He put the hose down and picked up the towel. Then he dropped the towel back into the suds. “Did you hear about Mrs. Randall?” he asked, wiping his hands on his shorts.

“Hear what?” Mac asked.

“Her arm still hurts her a lot,” Joseph said. “She called G.M. today and told her that it isn’t healing very fast. I wish there was something else we could do to help her,” he said wistfully.

“That’s too bad!” Mac said. She paused and watched a butterfly sail by. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could just take Mrs. Randall to Jesus like people did when He was here on earth? Remember all those stories about how people took their sick friends to Jesus, and He always healed them? Remember that story about the woman who was sick for twelve years, and the doctors couldn’t heal her? Nobody could heal her. I sure hope Mrs. Randall’s broken arm doesn’t take twelve years to heal! Why are you staring at me?”

Joseph shook his head. “I wasn’t staring at you,” he said. “I just got a perfect idea! That’s what I’m going to do!”

“What?” Mac asked, confused.

“I’m going to take Mrs. Randall to Jesus!” Joseph exclaimed.

“How? What in the world are you talking about?” Mac shouted at his back.

Joseph raced across the grass, Mac at his heels. He bounded up the steps and into the kitchen. “G.M.?” he called. “Where are you?”

“In here.” G.M.’s voice floated down the hall.

Joseph dashed into the studio and skidded to a stop. “Where is that book? You know, the little one with everybody’s phone numbers in it.”

G.M. looked up from her painting and peered over the top of her glasses. “Do you mean the church phone directory?” she asked.

“Yeah! Where is it?” Joseph asked excitedly.

“He told me he is going to take Mrs. Randall to Jesus!” Mac put in.

“I am!” Joseph exclaimed. “Pastor Chuck told us in Sabbath School that praying for people is like taking them to God for healing. Remember when Mac’s mom had cancer, and you called a bunch of people in different churches and asked them to pray for her? You put Mac’s mom on prayer ropes.”

“Do you mean prayer chains?” G.M. asked, smiling.

“Yeah! That’s it! Will you find me all the phone numbers? I can call and ask people to pray for Mrs. Randall and to put her on their church prayer chains!”

“That’s a great idea! What a great idea!” Mac exclaimed. “It’s such a great idea I wish I’d thought of it myself!”

A car horn honked twice outside. “That’s Mom! I’ve got to go!” Mac said. She looked at Joseph. “Don’t call everybody, please!” she begged. “Save some numbers for me! I want to help take Mrs. Randall to Jesus when I get back. OK?”


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