Joy to the World and a Deathbed Smile

I put my shoes on in the entryway to my house and looked around. It had all the signs of Christmas excitement. A nativity toy play set lay scattered on the ground, Christmas books were piled on the coffee table, and decorations hung prominently from the hearth, tree, and banister. The triumphant tune of “Joy to the World” was blaring from the bluetooth speaker in the kitchen. A most-fitting melody. I grabbed my coat from the rack and walked to the door. 

“Bye, everyone!”

My two-year-old daughter quickly bolted around the corner. 

“Bye, Daddy! You’re going to see Gandy?”

I looked at her chubby, rosy cheeks and soft strawberry-blonde hair. A big smile covered her face – a mostly-permanent fixture since the Christmas season began. 

“Yes, hunny. I’m going to see Gandy.” 

“Is she going to be with God?” 

My wife stepped in from the kitchen with our 7-month-old daughter. She smiled lovingly.  

I turned back to my inquisitive toddler.

“Yes, she’s going to be with God very soon. I’m going to say goodbye to her.”

“We’ll be sad,” she replied. I nodded. “…but she’ll be happy.”

I cracked a smile, hearing her parroted talk from previous gentle conversations.

“Yes, she’ll be very happy. I love you, girls. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

—————————————————————————–

I gently tapped on the bedroom door as I entered with my sister.

“Hi, Gandy. It’s so good to see you.”

It was a bedroom and house I had been in countless times before. A house built by my grandfather and lived in by my grandparents for over 60 years. Cherished and well-used. Once overlooking an open field, it now sat adjacent to a neighborhood development – with my childhood home in the backyard. Running through our connecting yards is one of my earliest memories.

I glanced at the memorial picture of my grandfather hanging on the wall before resting my eyes on my grandmother, laying in a nursing bed.

Her 96 years of life graced her with pure white hair and soft wrinkly skin, hanging from sunken cheeks and open jaw. Her eyes were closed and the room was quiet, intruded by the occasional pressure release from the oxygen tank sitting by the bed.

My sister and I sat by her side and talked loudly about anything we could think of, searching for memories and experiences from the past. Gandy would sometimes, unnaturally, open her eyes wide and muster remaining strength for a few breathless words.

When we could think of nothing else to say, I pulled in a bluetooth speaker and turned on some Christmas music. I noticed my grandmother’s face relax as she heard the familiar melody of Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” and Sinatra’s “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” play one after the other.

Suddenly, the next song startled our attention and disrupted the peaceful mood. A triumphant tune. A declaration.

“Joy to the world the Lord is come
Let earth receive her king
Let every heart prepare Him room
And heaven and nature sing
And heaven and nature sing
And heaven and Heaven and nature sing”

The bellowing voice of Nat King Cole echoed through the speaker. I looked at my phone to see if I could find something else. Something more somber. Something more fitting for a deathbed.

But then I saw it.

Across my grandmother’s nearly lifeless face.

A smile.

Yes, nothing could be more fitting for a deathbed.

Behind the superficial mask of cultural fanfare and man-made holiday happiness is a real world full of hardship, suffering and death. Few are blessed enough to see 96 rich years.

But in the midst of it, a new song breaks through. Shockingly. A blaring song of triumph. And victory. And joy.

Into the world, the Lord is come. Into the deathbed, the Lord is come. Into death itself, the Lord is come. Our conquering King is here.

For us.

And wherever He finds us – wherever we are – we can close our eyes… and smile.

That’s the unshakable, everlasting, joy of Christmas.

—

In loving memory of Ruth Ann Engle (Gandy) – who showed us the servant-hearted love of Jesus before we were even old enough to recognize it. (Mar. 19, 1928 – Dec. 8, 2024)

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