An un-shaven, grey haired man sat hunched over in his graying parka outside of the hospital waiting for a friend to pick him up. A few seats over sat an elderly lady with wisps of unwashed, grey hair falling over her eyes. Her arm is in a sling hidden beneath a pretty green knitted sweater. We prayed with him for healing. We handed him one of the many colorful cards we’d made with a verse on it and then turned our attention to the women.
Bending down to her eye level we asked if she would like us to pray for her. Her watery eyes instantly spilt over and down her cheeks as she told us (mostly in Afrikaans and a bit in English) about her loneliness. She is staying for a while in a nursing home. She fell and broke her arm. She falls a lot. She hates being old. Her daughter never visits. She is all alone. Glancing at the man we’d just prayed over, I notice that he is fervently reading the verse we’d given him over and over. He is openly crying.
We went to the Kalafong Hospital 
to pray and minister to those in the burn unit. Instead God directed us to the people waiting outside. We would have missed them had we been allowed into the ward. Sometimes God shuts doors so that we can better see what is right in front of us.
