This is Bethan’s grandmother, Peggy Jones — we call her Gu (pronounced like the “gee” of “geek”; it’s Welsh for grandmother).
She has been visiting Bethan’s family in the states for a little while now, so we were able to spend some time with her over the Christmas break. She has an uncanny ability for storytelling (perhaps it’s the British accent), and has plenty of tales to choose from in her own life. At times, we have discussed the Welsh revival, her decades of sitting under Martyn Lloyd-Jones at Westminster chapel, her life as a World War II Nurse, etc. The list could go on. But I have one that’s my favorite:
In 1942, Peggy was married to her husband, David. He was 20, she was 21. They were married only two weeks before he was shipped off to war. He went to North Africa, she stayed home to nurse wounded soldiers back to health in London. She said she and her fellow nurses would drive down to South Hampton and wait for ships to come in with the wounded, and then cart them all back to London. I can’t imagine working on those who were wounded, while knowing your spouse is in a position to become the same.
Three months after David was shipped off, she became a Christian. An evangelist had been preaching nightly in a small, tin chapel for a couple weeks. She decided to attend a service, and through the preaching of the Word realized she did not know Jesus. She made her faith public that night and came away with newfound joy in her Savior. She told me that she began writing letters to David, telling him about Jesus and her conversion, trying to explain what it was all about. He wrote back that he did not quite get it all, “Until I see the light, I’ll just have to carry on.”
Later, David would return from the war, and they lived life together for 62 years, Peggy praying for him every day for those years that he might trust in Jesus. He would attend church at times, even meeting privately with Lloyd-Jones a few times to discuss the Lord. He even went with Peggy to a Billy Graham crusade in London, afterward asking his wife, “Why can’t I just believe? Why don’t I have what you have?” But he did not believe.
In his later years, David became ill and near his life’s end was in an intensive care unit in a London hospital. One night, Peggy was told by her daughters that she needed to come into the room where David was. He was beaming.
David: “Jesus came to see me.”
Peggy: “What?”
David: “Yes.” (pointing at the end of his hospital bed)
Peggy: “What did he say?”
David: “He said, ‘I died on the cross for your sins, and I love you.’ And I said, “I know and I love you too, Lord Jesus.”
And they all wept together for joy that David had finally “seen the light” and believed in Jesus. For his final two weeks on this earth, they were able to sing hymns together and rejoice in the Savior. Even the nurses acknowledged that something had profoundly changed his demeanor.
62 years of praying for her husband. 62 years of hoping tirelessly. The Lord is gracious to grant such a gift.
Posted by Brandon 
