When I was growing up, my dad’s nickname was “Bob.” Sometimes, when his family called him by his middle name, “Wilbur,” my sisters and I would giggle, envisioning the pink piglet in Charlotte’s Web. 

In the last few years, however, Dad has acquired a new nickname—“The Doughnut Man.” 

            Dad’s 88, and he doesn’t get out much anymore. When he does, it’s usually for a medical appointment or the occasional family gathering. He sets his United States Navy Veteran cap on his head, grabs his rolling walker and off we go.

            He asks me the same question as he clicks his seat belt into place.

            “Okay if we stop at Krispy Kreme?” 

            He sure has a sweet tooth.

            He also has a sweet heart.

            “Of course,” I say. 

            We always order two dozen—one for him and mom to enjoy with their coffee (decaf, of course)—and one for someone else.

            Sometime we head to the doctor or dentist.

“My hygienist loves it when I bring her doughnuts,” he says, grinning like a kid. “The dentist does, too. It’s an easy way to say thank you.”

            Other times we swing by the local EMS station.  

            “I’ll never forget the day I thought I was having a heart attack,” he says. “They were here in five minutes. Hooked me up to every monitor they had and talked to me the whole way to the hospital. ‘You’re gonna be okay,’ they said. And I was.

            “Those guys don’t get thanked enough,” he says. 

            Today he has another stop in mind.

            “I want to go back to the radiology lab at the hospital.” 

He pauses, remembering.

            “It’s been twelve years since my cancer diagnosis. They gave me a radiation treatment every day for 45 days.” He rattles off the nurses’ names. “Remmie, Renee, and Rhonda. I called them the three R’s.

            “On Fridays, I’d bring ‘em doughnuts. So many sad faces in that place. But doughnuts always made ‘em smile.”

            Dad and I grab the doughnuts and head over to the hospital.

            He knows right where to go. I guess if you go somewhere every day for 45 days, it sticks with you.

            I whisper a silent prayer. Please, Lord, let there be someone there who remembers him.

And there is—Remmie. At least she says she does. Maybe it’s the green and white box that triggers her memory. She flings open the door and wraps him in a hug.

            “Y’all took good care of me twelve years ago,” Dad says, “and I’ve been fine ever since. I’m thankful.” 

Dad’s a man of few words, but he makes them count.

            “Make sure Dr. Cavanaugh gets a doughnut,” he says, shaking his finger at her. “And tell him my PSA score’s still 0.01.”

            More hugs, more laughter, then we’re back in the car headed for home.

            He smiles as he clicks his seatbelt into place. 

            “Thanks for stopping,” he says.

            “My pleasure.”

Anything for the Doughnut Man.

A Word for Your Day — 66 Devotions to Refresh Your Mind

Allow God’s Word to change your life, one word at a time! Lori Hatcher’s newest book, a 66-day devotional highlights one relevant, sometimes unexpected, word from each book of the Bible. Lori, the best-selling author of Refresh Your Faith and Refresh Your Prayers, shares simple—but never simplistic—truths. She continues to remind us that every part of Scripture is active, alive, and applicable. 

From beginning in Genesis to new in Revelation, ponder each significant word as you move through your day and allow God to transform your heart and mind.

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