Count It All Joy by Ashea S. Goldson Page A

were terrors, but we still had fun playing together. Even one Christmas when our power was off, we went out to eat at McDonald’s, celebrated with candles, and went to bed early. Mama never complained about anything during Christmastime. Instead, she’d always say, “It’s not about us. It’s about Jesus.” Then she would find someone who was in a worse position than she was in and help them. Even during her roughest times, that was what Mama did, helped people. I missed her during this time of year most of all.
    Taylor was having dinner with Keith, Aunt Dorothy, and Dad. I missed them all, but I was grateful to be having dinner with my new family.
    The evening was long and not the most festive, but we survived it and came out shining.
    The very next day, unfortunately, we received a frantic call from Joshua’s mother. She was crying and begging us to get to the hospital fast because Joshua’s father was having heart pains and was having trouble breathing. She feared that he was having a heart attack and they were on their way to the hospital in an ambulance.
    â€œOh, Lord, please let Bishop Benning live,” I whispered before grabbing my purse and heading out behind Joshua. One quick stop to drop off Lilah at Mrs. Johnson’s and we were on the road.
    When Mother Benning called to announce that her husband had been rushed to the emergency room, Joshua and I immediately began to pray. We knew his condition was already fragile and that we would need divine healing power to get us through this ordeal.
    As we arrived at the hospital, we ran into Pastor Martin in the lobby.
    â€œHello, Pastor Martin,” Joshua and I said in unison as if it were planned.
    â€œHello, Josh. Alex.” Pastor Martin hugged us both with one of those quick church hugs, the kind where none of your body parts touched, except, of course, arms touching back. “Your mother called me, and I came right over. I just left your father’s side. Good thing I was already in the area.”
    â€œYes, it’s a good thing,” Joshua said. “We’ve been praying the whole way over here.”
    Pastor Martin’s eyes narrowed. “I know what you mean. Your father is a good man and Satan had better know we’re not going to give him up that easily.”
    I smiled. “Thank you, Pastor.”
    â€œYes, thanks.” Joshua tried to hide it, but he looked worried.
    â€œI’ll be going now because I’ve got another emergency on the other side of the city, but I’ll be back tomorrow.” Pastor Martin put on his hat and headed out the door. “Good night.”
    â€œGood night,” Joshua and I said, again in unison.
    We walked over to the front desk where a tall Jamaican lady gave us directions to the ICU. We took the elevator upstairs in silence. The fluorescent lighting illuminated the plain white walls, as well as carefully placed instructional signs. I didn’t like hospitals at all, not since Mom died in one. It was too quiet, and way too gloomy.
    As soon as we turned the corner, Mother Benning walked over to us. “Joshua. Alex.”
    â€œHi, Mother,” Joshua said.
    â€œHello, Mother Benning.” I reached out to hug her, but she walked right past me.
    Mother Benning threw her arms around Joshua. “Thankfully, it was only a false alarm and not a heart attack, but they’re going to keep him overnight. His doctor wants to watch him closely because he’s so weak.”
    Mother Benning led us to his room. After spending a few minutes with Brother Benning, a doctor came in and asked us to leave the room so he could be examined. Since his vital signs were better, we were allowed back in but not before the doctor spoke to us briefly about his condition. The doctor explained that the prostate was a walnut-sized structure that made up the man’s reproductive system and the problem was that it was wrapped around the urethra, which carries