Joy comes in the morning

Ever since lockdown I’ve been keeping in touch with a ninety-one year-old lady whose son has been in hospital since before last Christmas.
He’s pretty poorly, but plans have been made for him to come back home ( he’s single and lives with her ).
He’s been bedridden for months, but coming home depends on his being just a little mobile. They’re both former members of our little church, and have been on the prayer list constantly.
This morning she rang to tell me excitedly that he’d actually been able to take four steps independently.
Four steps.
Just four out of the ten thousand steps we should take as a minimum every day.
I’m so pleased for them, as it’s a start along the long road to coming home.
But what joy it brought them, the same as this little rose beside my front door brings me.