Charles Dickens started his story of The Tale of Two Cities with this now familiar line; “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times”. There are many days in our lives where we can apply that thought. This was one of them. Our youngest son James had been born after a troublesome pregnancy that saw his mother spend the last seven months almost completely bedridden. Yet out of that fear and sorrowful trial came ten fingers and ten toes, perfect in every way. Within a few weeks as he lay dying in St. Petersburg’s Children’s Hospital, I poured my entire heart and soul out to the Lord who desired to provide deliverance. It was a mountaintop beyond description when the doctors declared the spinal meningitis had mysteriously disappeared.
Then within a few weeks his maternal great grandfather, who had never seen him, died instantly from a heart attack. We travelled twenty hours by car in snowy blustery cold weather to attend the funeral. I was employed in the United States Air Force and attending ClearwaterChristianCollege full time. It was a time of intense emotional and spiritual struggles for my wife and I. As we returned to Florida with our two young children from the funeral we were worn to a frazzle. As I said, the phrase applies here. It was the best because our son was born and then delivered from grave harm. It was the worst because the relief from the death watch at his bedside had turned to the sadness of a funeral for his grandfather who had steadfastly rejected Christ in his life.
I was anxious to return to my classes the next day and learn what I had to catch up on. We chose to have our first dinner at home in a local restaurant at a nearby shopping mall. James was unable be comfortable at all. He had been in strange places and in his car seat for far too many hours.
Even though we did everything we could think of to calm him nothing worked for more than a few seconds. We were painfully reminded of a similar severe discomfort prior to discovering that dreadful diagnosis, only weeks before.
As soon as our meal was served we bowed our heads and prayed openly, thanking God for His provision, love and mercy. It was and still is our custom at home or in public. He is indeed worthy of all our gratitude. Eating proved to be an impossible task. Passing James back and forth hoping for a momentary reprieve must have appeared as a circus to our fellow diners. Even his four year old sister attempted to distract him so we could get just a sip, just a small bite. Fortunately in mid afternoon there were few other patrons close to us.
A kind, grandmotherly lady approached our table and said, “I saw you praying for your meal. I too am a Christian. May I offer my assistance? Let me walk your baby around for a few minutes while you enjoy your meal”. It would be unthinkable today to hand your young gift of God to someone you had never met but after a bit of personal struggle and her calm reassurances we agreed; as long as he remained where we could constantly watch them.
We finished a much more relaxing meal with continual eye contact on our fragile son in the loving arm of a stranger who just wanted to share her time simply because we prayed for our meal and God’s continued provision. I had only been a Christian for about a year and a half. She was like so many other believers we had met who simply wanted God’s love to flow through them. We gratefully acknowledged her service to us as we left. She told us she was a gospel singer named Winifred Larson. How wonderful of our Lord to provide for us in such a awesome way.
The next morning I return to college to find that the guest speaker in our daily chapel service had been an important minister from the Free Evangelical Churches who often travelled to Sweden, Europe and throughout the United States sharing God’s love. They told of marvelous exploits relayed to them of how God opened doors in palaces and prisons and crowds large and small for this willing servant.
As my fellow students excitedly described the things which were laid upon their heart in service for God by the one who had been there the day before, I realized they were speaking of the “Kate Smith” of gospel music. It was the same woman who had been our servant in the restaurant holding our unsettled son. She was regarded as one of the premier ministers of the gospel message. Acknowledging her accomplishments and the ways the Lord had used her should have made it enough that we were able to meet her and shake her hand
Yet God in His mercy allowed this young family to experience His provision by sending His mighty warrior of great valor to meet their need in that hour. She came to that school to share His love and encourage others to continue in service for Him. God directed her after her time there to have a meal in a place where faith for a young couple needed to be encouraged and service needed to be exampled.
It would not have been a greater testimony of God’s answering prayer if Billy Graham had stopped by to change the oil in our car. It would not have been greater if D. L. Moody or Charles Spurgeon or the Apostle Paul had come to prepare our meal. Jesus Himself came in the person of Winifred Larson to be our servant. Thank You for opening the eyes of my heart Lord.
“For whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink in my name, because ye belong to Christ, verily I say unto you, he shall not lose his reward.”. (Mark 9:41)
Winnie Larson, the world’s gospel messenger and our nursemaid servant from Jesus, claimed her reward in May of 2003. She will never be forgotten for her great kindness and obedient service. What a mighty God we serve.
It was the Best of Times!
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