Poem: Ode to a Farmer’s Wife – Ian Johnston

I prayed for this daughter who needed His smile

4 MINUTE READ

from Luke’s Journal 2020 | Ageing Gracefully | Vol.25 No.3

• It was just after “Rest Time”, with patients still sleeping,
  the nurses were busy updating their notes.
  I had “Out-of-Towners”, brought in from the Country,
  and I wanted to see those “Long Distant” ones first.
• One of those patients was a little old lady, 
  a Farmer’s wife, from way out “the Back”
  She was a widow with no close relations, 
  no one to visit and take up the slack.
• Almost engulfed in pillows and doonas, 
  the sides on her bed were raised like a cot.
• I nearly walked past that small grey-haired lady, 
  so frail and alone, like they all had forgot.
• So I put on my friendliest face
  and mustered a heart-warming smile,
  before announcing my mission,
  to visit all the “Pressies” on file.
• The Lady responded quite quickly,
  when she realised I was one of her own,
  “I used to teach Sunday School children,
  when I lived with my parents at home.”
• Then I asked her how she was going –
  what the hospital staff hoped to gain.
  She shook her head with much sadness,
  “My body is wracked with great pain!”
• “Perhaps I could pray for that with you,”
  I said with all the confidence I had.
  But she buried her face in the pillow, 
  and told me, “I’m probably too bad.”
• “When I married, we moved to the country, 
  to the Bush and onto a farm.
  Then little by little things took over –
  the fences, the shearing, the barn.
• It was quite a long trip for groceries,
  even further for mechanical parts.
  When you factored in Church on a Sunday,
  it really challenged our hearts.
• So I really don’t think that I’m worthy,
  to ask for your prayers for my pain,
  For I left God and His house off my “Do List”, 
  and didn’t go near Him again.”
• My heart ached for this suffering lady, 
  who had toiled many years on the land,
  So I pulled out a tract about Jesus, 
  and the Hymn that says he’s our friend.
• I thought if I sang a few lines 
  of this wonderful faith-lifting hymn,
  my suffering patient might remember, 
  and start putting her trust in Him.
• But nothing like that even got started,
  no memories with joy went on show,
  until I launched into, “Jesus loves me”, 
  the Bible, it does tell me so.
• Her face was beginning to soften,
  the memories brought deep humility.
  I rejoiced as I heard her saying, 
  “Perhaps you could pray for me!”
• I reached out my hand and asked her
  if her hand I could hold for a while,
  Just while I prayed to the Father, 
  for this daughter who needed His smile.
• And when we had finished our praying,
  and my visit had come to an end,
  I offered a tract about Jesus,
  and the Hymn which says he’s our Friend.
• The lady, unworthy no longer,
  reached up with her outstretched hands,
  and gladly read of the Saviour, 
  who saved her and taught her to dance.

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