An old, old picture of my dear paternal grandparents, Watson and Bertha Mabey.
By Richard Mabey Jr.
Growing up in the old Mabey Homestead in Lincoln Park, Grandma and Grandpa Mabey lived with us. If you faced the old farmhouse, my bedroom was on the second floor, in the front of the house on the right-hand side. Grandma and Grandpa’s bedroom was right behind mine. Both of our bedrooms looked out to West Drive on the side.
When I was 12 years old, I had a severe case of Rheumatic Fever. For one full year of my life, my feet never touched the ground. I spent the entire year, except for the times I was in the hospital, in my bedroom. Grandpa would often come into my room to visit with me. He loved to tell me his remembrances of working on the old Morris Canal. For decades, Grandpa served as the Chief Engineer of Incline Plane Ten East.
But more than telling me wonderful and colorful tales of life along the old Morris Canal, Grandpa would often pray for me. Grandpa would sit at my old desk chair, on the right-hand side of my bed and pray and pray and pray for me. While sitting down, Grandpa would place his right hand upon my right shoulder, close his eyes and most earnestly pray for God to heal me.
The late Dr. Martin Rosenthal was my doctor. He would climb up the 15 steps of the old Mabey Homestead, with his little black bag in one hand and a portable EKG Machine in his other hand. He was a wonderful doctor.
I remember one time; Dr. Rosenthal entered my bedroom while Grandpa was praying for me. Grandpa was so lost in praying for me, that it took him a few seconds to realize that Dr. Rosenthal was in my room with us. I think that Dr. Rosenthal was a little amazed of the sincerity and earnest voice tone of my dear grandfather’s prayer.
I deeply believe, without one iota of doubt, that my grandfather’s prayers greatly helped me to heal. For the strep infection had moved from my throat to the valves of my heart. I was most seriously ill.
My grandfather, Watson Mabey, did not have a lot of formal education, yet he was one of the wisest men I have ever known. He knew the ways of wildlife. He had a great knowledge of wildflowers. He would often leave apples at the end of Mabey Lane, in the forest area, for the deer to enjoy.
Grandpa went Home to be with the Lord in May of 1968. I don’t think a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about that dear, kind, gentle, strong old man. In many ways, he taught me the fine art of storytelling.
If there is one thing I can share with you, dear reader, it is this. Never, ever, ever underestimate the incredible healing power of prayer. For God loves you, more than you will ever know.
Richard Mabey Jr. is a freelance writer. He hosts a YouTube Channel titled, “Richard Mabey Presents.” Richard most recently published a book of poetry and short stories. He can be reached at richardmabeyjr@gmail.com.