Susan and I have a soft spot in our hearts for nurses\u2026 especially since our daughter Kinsey is one. We have also seen the huge difference a nurse can make in health struggles throughout the years. As Susan’s mom Lou left the hospital to go home, twelve days before she passed away, a nurse told us a beautiful story.<\/p>\n
We had already fallen in love with this nurse because she had fallen in love with Lou. Sincere care is not easily faked. We knew Angelica had a special place in her heart for Lou, who was alert but not able to fully communicate because of a stroke. Angelica said to Susan that last day in the hospital, “Your mom and I sang together after breakfast this morning.”<\/p>\n
Susan’s family is not exactly known for singing, so this was an interesting comment. “What did you sing?” we asked. “She wanted to sing an Elvis song so that’s what we did.” “An Elvis song?” we asked as I was trying to picture Angelica and Lou singing Jailhouse Rock<\/em> or some other catchy tune. “You know,” she replied, “the one that says, He walks with me and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own.<\/em>”<\/p>\n Two weeks later, a congregation of family and brothers and sisters in Christ sang this hymn about sweet fellowship as we honored Lou Taylor.<\/p>\n I Come To The Garden Alone<\/em> by C. Austin Miles<\/p>\n I come to the garden alone, And He walks with me and He talks with me, He speaks, and the sound of His voice And He walks with me and He talks with me, I’d stay in the garden with Him, And He walks with me and He talks with me, “Awake, north wind, and come, south wind! Blow on my garden, that its fragrance may spread abroad. Let my lover come into his garden and taste its choice fruits.” Song of Songs 4:16<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Susan and I have a soft spot in our hearts for nurses\u2026 especially since our daughter Kinsey is one. We have also seen the huge difference a nurse can make in health struggles throughout the years. As Susan’s mom Lou left the hospital to go home, twelve days before she passed away, a nurse told […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1152","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-hope"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/airwoof.org\/journey\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1152","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/airwoof.org\/journey\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/airwoof.org\/journey\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/airwoof.org\/journey\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/airwoof.org\/journey\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1152"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/airwoof.org\/journey\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1152\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1158,"href":"https:\/\/airwoof.org\/journey\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1152\/revisions\/1158"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/airwoof.org\/journey\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1152"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/airwoof.org\/journey\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1152"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/airwoof.org\/journey\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1152"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nWhile the dew is still on the roses;
\nAnd the voice I hear, falling on my ear,
\nThe Son of God discloses.<\/p>\n
\nAnd He tells me I am His own;
\nAnd the joy we share as we tarry there,
\nNone other has ever known.<\/p>\n
\nIs so sweet the birds hush their singing
\nAnd the melody that He gives to me,
\nWithin my heart is ringing.<\/p>\n
\nAnd He tells me I am His own;
\nAnd the joy we share as we tarry there,
\nNone other has ever known.<\/p>\n
\nTho’ the night around me be falling
\nBut He bids me go: thru the voice of woe,
\nHis voice to me is calling.<\/p>\n
\nAnd He tells me I am His own;
\nAnd the joy we share as we tarry there,
\nNone other has ever known.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n