Life's Challenges - Stories - Death/Dying
The Old Fisherman
Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of John
Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms
to out patients at the clinic.
One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I
opened it to see a truly awful looking man. "Why, he's hardly taller than my
eight-year-old," I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the
appalling thing was his face-lopsided from swelling, red and raw. Yet his voice
was pleasant as he said, "Good evening. I've come to see if you've a room for
just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the Eastern Shore, and
there's no bus till morning." He told me he'd been hunting for a room since noon
but with no success, no one seemed to have a room. "I guess it's my face...I
know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments . . ."
For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me: "I could sleep in
this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning." I told him
we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch. I went inside and finished
getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. "No
thank you. I have plenty." And he held up a brown paper bag.
When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few
minutes. It didn't take long time to see that this old man had an oversized
heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support
his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled
from a back injury. He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other
sentence was preface with a thanks to God for a blessing.
He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a
form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going.
At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children's room for him. When I got up in
the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the
porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as
if asking a great favor, he said, "Could I please come back and stay the next
time I have a treatment? I won't put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a
chair." He paused a moment and then added, "Your children made me feel at home.
Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don't seem to mind."
I told him he was welcome to come again. And on his next trip he arrived a
little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart
of the largest oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning
before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m.
and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us.
In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he
did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times we
received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish and oysters
packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed.
Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little
money he had made the gifts doubly precious. When I received these little
remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he
left that first morning. "Did you keep that awful looking man last night?
I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!" Maybe we did
lose roomers once or twice. But oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps
their illnesses would have been easier to bear. I know our family always will be
grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the bad
without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.
Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse, As she showed me her
flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum,
bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented,
rusty bucket. I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it in the
loveliest container I had!" My friend changed my mind. "I ran short of pots,"
she explained, "and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it
wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail. It's just for a little while, till
I can put it out in the garden." She must have wondered why I laughed so
delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. "Here's an
especially beautiful one," God might have said when he came to the soul of the
sweet old fisherman. "He won't mind starting in this small body."
All this happened long ago-and now, in God's garden, how tall this lovely soul
must stand.
Author Unknown
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Dr. William's Is
Upstairs
A doctor who had devoted his life to helping the underprivileged lived over a
liquor store in the poor section of a large city. In front of the liquor store
was a simple sign reading "Dr. Williams is upstairs."
When he died, he had no relatives and he left no money for his burial. He had
never asked for payment from anyone he had ever treated. Friends and patients
scraped enough money together to bury the good doctor, but they had no money for
a tombstone. It appeared that his grave was going to be unmarked until someone
came up with a wonderful suggestion.
They took the sign from in front of the liquor store and nailed it to a post
over his grave. It made a lovely epitaph: Dr. Williams is upstairs.
Author Unknown
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The Verdict
After living a "decent" life my time on earth came to an end. The first thing I
remember is sitting on a bench in the waiting room of what I thought to be a
courthouse. The doors opened and I was instructed to come in and have a seat by
the defense table. As I looked around I saw the "prosecutor." He was a
villainous looking gent who snarled as he stared at me, he definitely was the
most evil person I have ever seen.
I sat down and looked to my left and there sat my lawyer, a kind and gentle
looking man whose appearance seemed very familiar to me. The corner door flew
open and there appeared the judge in full flowing robes. He commanded an awesome
presence as he moved across the room and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. As
he took his seat behind the bench he said, "Let us begin."
The Prosecutor rose and said "My name is Satan and I am here to show you why
this man belongs in hell." He proceeded to tell of lies that I told, things that
I stole and in the past when I cheated others. Satan told of other horrible
perversions that were once in my life and the more he spoke the further down in
my seat I sank. I was so embarrassed that I couldn't look at anyone, even my own
lawyer, as the Devil told of sins that even I had completely forgotten about. As
upset as I was at Satan for telling all these things about me, I was equally
upset at my representative who sat there silently not offering any form of
defense at all. I know I had been guilty of those things, but I had done some
good in my life-couldn't that at least equal out part of the harm I've done.
Satan finished with a fury and said "This man belongs in hell, he is guilty of
all that I have charged and there is not a person who can prove otherwise.
Justice will finally be served this day." When it was his turn, my lawyer first
asked if he might approach the bench. The judge allowed this over the strong
objection of Satan, and beckoned him to come forward. As he got up and started
walking I was able to see him now in his full splendor and majesty. Now I
realized why he seemed so familiar, this was Jesus representing me, my Lord and
my Savior. He stopped at the bench and softly said to the judge "Hi Dad" and
then He turned to address the court.
"Satan was correct in saying that this man had sinned, I won't deny any of these
allegations. And yes the wages of sins is death and this man deserves to be
punished". Jesus took a deep breath and turned to His Father with out-stretched
arms and proclaimed "However, I died on the cross so that this person might have
eternal life and he has accepted Me as his Savior, so He is mine." My Lord
continued with "His name is written in the book of life and no one can snatch
him from Me. Satan still does not understand yet, this man is not to be given
justice but rather mercy." As Jesus sat down, He quietly paused, looked at his
Father and replied "There is nothing else that needs to be done, I've done it
all".
The Judge lifted His mighty hand and slammed the gavel down and the following
words bellowed from His lips- "This man is free-the penalty for him has already
been paid in full, case dismissed." As my Lord led me away I could hear Satan
ranting and raving "I won't give up, I'll win the next one."
I asked Jesus as He gave me my instructions where to go next "Have you ever lost
a case?" Christ lovingly smiled and said "Everyone that has come to me and asked
Me to represent them has received the same verdict as you, "Paid in Full."
Author Unknown
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Beyond Death
A sick man turned to his doctor, as he was leaving the
room after paying a visit, and said, "Doctor, I am
afraid to die. Tell me what lies on the other side."
Very quietly the doctor said, "I don't know."
"You don't know? You, a Christian man, do not know what
is on the other side?"
The doctor was holding the handle of the door, on the
other side of which came a sound of scratching and
whining, and as he opened the door a dog sprang into the
room and leaped on him with an eager show of gladness.
Turning to the patient, the doctor said, "Did you notice
that dog? He had never been in this room before. He did
not know what was inside. He knew nothing except that
his master was here, and when the door opened he sprang
in without fear.
I know little of what is on the other side of death, but
I do know one
thing: I know my Master is there, and that is enough.
And when the door opens, I shall pass through with no
fear, but with gladness.
Author Unknown
God Is Good
There was an old man at our church who had loved God all
of his life. This man John, walked around saying "God is
Good". He said it all the time, whenever and wherever he
was. When John got married he said, "God is Good".
When John lost his job he said, "God is Good". When
John's father died he said, "God is Good". When Johns
wallet got stolen he said, "God is Good".
Well, you get the idea, no matter what John did, or what
happened to him, we would always hear him say, "God is
Good".
A few months ago, John was diagnosed with cancer. The
disease had spread rapidly and he was told by his doctor
he'd have only a few weeks to live. Still, even on
his death bed, John could be heard by everyone in the
hospital repeating his famous line, "God is Good".
Our pastor Charles was Johns best friend. Charles went
everyday to visit John in the hospital. And every night
before Charles left John would tell him, "God is Good".
Finally after weeks of watching his best friend get
worse and worse from his terminal disease, Charles just
could not stand it any longer and asked John, " John you
are my best friend and I love you. I love the Lord as
much as you do, too. I have listened to you say that God
is Good your whole life. Through the good times,
maybe I can understand you saying how good God is.
Maybe even through the hard times, to help yourself
cope. But now, laying here on your death bed, how can
you be so optimistic? How can you say 'God is good'
every day when you know he is letting you die?"
John just looked at Charles and smiled.
"Dear friend, don't you see all of those times I was
saying God was Good, it was my way of praising him in
the little way I could. And look what my reward is for
remaining faithful, I am dieing. You say God is letting
me die as if that is a bad thing. Charles, have you
forgotten that is our goal. To live our life for Him,
and join him one day in heaven. See, GOD IS GOOD! He has
finally called me home and in a few hours I will be with
Him. I can't imagine anything greater than that."
John died that night in his sleep. Charles stood up and
said only two things at John's funeral: "I will miss my
friend but I know I will see him again one day soon, and
GOD IS GOOD."
Let us praise the Lord in everything that comes our way
for our reward will be great in Heaven...
Author unknown
A Letter From Home
I had a safe trip. The angels carried me safely into Father Abraham's bosom. Oh,
the thrill I felt when I met the one that died for me!
And no matter what you've heard, there's just no words to describe the glories
that surround him. I'm satisfied here; every need's been supplied. Just wait
till you see my new home.
I'm satisfied because there's no sin here, no murders, no divorce, no abortions,
and no need to ever have locks on the doors. Perfect peace reigns here. I'm
satisfied because there's no sickness. Why, I've never felt better in my life! I
have a brand new body just like Jesus.
And oh, I wish you could hear the singing. David played his harp today, and a
great crowd gathered by the river of life and sang a new song. Of course, the
angels couldn't sing that song, but they sure were listening. It's really
wonderful here, because there are no strangers. Everyone knows me by name.
Why, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego showed me around. Seems like I've been here
forever. The weather is great. There's a cool breeze blowing all the time. And
you know one of the nicest things, night and darkness never comes. It's light
here all the time, for Jesus himself is the light of the city.
Please, remember, I'm safe, I'm satisfied, and I'm not sick anymore. There will
be no need for me to write again, because I was told today that nothing here
ever changes. In closing, the only thing that would make this wonderful place
more complete is for all my family and friends to join me here in Heaven.
Author Unknown
The Parable of the
Twins
Once upon a time, twin boys were conceived. Weeks passed and the twins
developed. As their awareness grew, they laughed for joy: "Isn't it great that
we were conceived? Isn't it great to be alive?"
Together the twins explored their world. When they found their mother's cord
that gave them life, they sang for joy! "How great is our mother's love, that
she shares her own life with us!"
As weeks stretched into months, the twins noticed how much each was changing.
"What does it mean?" asked one.
"It means our stay in this world is drawing to an end." said the other.
"But I don't want to go," said one. "I want to stay here always."
"We have no choice," said the other. "But maybe there is life after birth."
"But how can there be?" responded one. "we will shed our life cord and how is
life possible without it? Besides, we have seen evidence that others were here
before us, and none of them has returned to tell us there is life after birth.
No, this is the end. Maybe there is no mother at all."
"But there has to be," protested the other. "How else did we get here? How do we
remain alive?"
"Have you ever seen our mother?" said one. "Maybe she only lives in our minds.
Maybe we made her up because the idea made us feel good."
So, the last days in the womb were filled with deep questioning and fear.
Finally, the moment of birth arrived.
When the twins had passed from their world, they opened their eyes and cried for
joy - for what they saw exceeded their fondest dreams. That is death as
experienced by Christians.
Author Unknown
Life Support
We either have been, or will be, put in the position of comforting someone who
is in grief. That is an important
role played by good friends. The most common question I hear on such occasions
is, "What should I say?" We
want to help, but we feel helpless to make a difference in the face of such
tragedy. I have often remembered a
story told by Joseph Baylys when I struggle to say the "right thing" to someone
who is hurting.
Mr. Baylys lost three children to death over the course of several years. He
wrote a book called, *The View From
A Hearse*, in which he talks about his grief He says this about comforting those
who grieve:
"I was sitting, torn by grief. Someone came and talked to me of God's dealings,
of why it happened, of hope beyond
the grave. He said things I knew were true. I was unmoved, except to wish he
would go away. He finally did. Someone
else came and sat beside me. He didn't talk. He didn't ask leading questions. He
just sat with me for an hour or more,
listened when I said something, answered briefly, prayed simply, left. I was
moved. I was comforted. I hated to see
him go."
I have found Joseph Baylys experience to be excruciatingly typical. Both men
wanted to help. Both men cared. But only
one truly comforted. The difference was this:
One tried to make him feel better. The other just let him feel. One tried to say
the right things. The other listened. One told
him it would be all right. The other shared his pain.
When put in the difficult position of comforting someone in emotional pain,
sometimes what needs to be said can be
said best with a soft touch or a listening ear. It may not seem like much, but
it can be more than you will ever know.
Author Unknown
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The Dark Candle
A man had a little daughter -- an only and much-beloved child. He lived for her
-- she was his life. So when she became ill and her illness resisted the efforts
of them best obtainable physicians, he became like a man possessed, moving
heaven and earth to bring about her restoration to health. His best efforts
proved unavailing and the child died.
The father was totally irreconcilable. He became a bitter recluse, shutting
himself away from his many friends and refusing every activity that might
restore his poise and bring him back to his normal self. But one night he had a
dream. He was in Heaven, and was witnessing a grand pageant of all the little
child angels. They were marching in an apparently endless line past the Great
White Throne.
Every white-robed angelic child carried a candle. He noticed that one child's
candle was not lighted. Then he saw that the child with the dark candle was his
own little girl. Rushing to her, while the pageant faltered, he seized her in
his arms, caressed her tenderly, and then asked: "How is it, darling that your
candle alone is unlighted? "Father, they often re-light it, but your tears
always put it out." Just then he awoke from his dream.
The lesson was crystal clear, and its effects were immediate. From that hour on
he was not a recluse, but mingled freely and cheerfully with his former friends
and associates. No longer would his darling's candle be extinguished by his
useless tears.
"For You have delivered my soul from death. Have you not kept my feet from
falling, That I may walk before God In the LIGHT of the living?" (Psalms
56:13NKJ) Jesus Loves You!
Author Unknown
Permanent Address
A young woman completing a job application came to the
line asking for her "Permanent address." She began to
list her street and house
number but paused for a moment. Then, with a small smile
she wrote, "HEAVEN."
She understood that Heaven is a real place... and the
ultimate home of God's children.
No place on earth is truly home for those who belong to
God's family. The Bible says that we are
travelers... just passing through. Heaven
is the ultimate, eternal destination for those who love
God. In fact, their time on earth is like one small dot
on a continuous,
never-ending line.
Is God the landlord of your permanent home? If not, then
the time is Right to start investing in the future. Ask
God to wash you clean and
forgive your trespasses and sins so that you will be
suitably clothed for Heaven's splendor. Ask Him to make
you His child through the sacrifice
of His Son. Ask Him to reserve a place for you, so that
you can be with Him forever.
Heaven is the best home of all because God lives there.
It is filled with hope and joy and peace and love, and
it's forever. Start planning
for your future today!
Author Unknown
The Empty Chair
A man's daughter had asked the local pastor to come and
pray with her father. When the pastor arrived, he found
the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two
pillows and an empty chair beside his bed. The priest
assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his
visit. "I guess you were expecting me," he said.
"No, who are you?"
"I'm the new associate at your local church," the pastor
replied. "When I saw the empty chair, I figured you knew
I was going to show up."
"Oh yeah, the chair," said the bedridden man. "Would you
mind closing the door?"
Puzzled, the pastor shut the door.
"I've never told anyone this, not even my daughter,"
said the man. "But all of my life I have never known how
to pray. At church I used to hear the pastor talk about
prayer, but it always went right over my head.."
"I abandoned any attempt at prayer," the old man
continued, "until one day about four years ago my best
friend said to me, 'Joe, prayer is just a simple matter
of having a conversation with Jesus. Here's what I
suggest. Sit down on a chair, place an empty chair in
front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair. It's
not spooky because he promised, 'I'll be with you
always.' Then just speak to him and listen in the same
way you're doing with me right now."
"So, I tried it and I've liked it so much that I do it a
couple of hours every day. I'm careful, though. If my
daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she'd either
have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny
farm."
The pastor was deeply moved by the story and encouraged
the old guy to continue on the journey. Then he prayed
with him, and returned to the church.
Two nights later the daughter called to tell the pastor
that her daddy had died that afternoon.
"Did he seem to die in peace?" he asked.
"Yes, when I left the house around two o'clock, he
called me over to his bedside, told me one of his corny
jokes, and kissed me on the cheek. When I got back from
the store an hour later, I found him dead. But there was
something strange, In fact, beyond strange--kinda weird.
Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and
rested his head on a chair beside the bed."
Author Unknown
The Sting
This is little story told at a funeral recently. It has a play on words about a
"sting" which is vivid in its application: Once a boy and his father were
driving along the road in the family car, when a bee flew in the window. The boy
got very upset when he saw the bee buzzing around his head, and he began
throwing his arms around madly, almost causing an accident. Maybe you think he
was a coward, but that boy was a special case. You see he was allergic to bee
stings! The doctors had told him that if he ever got stung by a bee again he
would die of the sting! So naturally enough the boy was very frightened of the
bee. The father tried to brush it out of the car window, but couldn't make it go
out. So he quickly grabbed the bee! But it escaped, and buzzed around the boy's
head again making him scream with terror this time.
Well, the bee was still in the car, but the father pulled over to the edge of
the road and said to the boy, "It is OK, you are all right." Then he opened his
hand, and there sticking into his palm the boy could see the bee sting! His
father had allowed the bee to sting himself! He had taken the sting out of the
danger. There was no danger about the bee any more.
The pastor told that story to show us all that Jesus Christ has taken the
"sting" out of death itself. He let death "sting" Him instead of ourselves, so
we could live forever and never die. How wonderful. The Bible tells us about
that "sting" being taken out of death by Jesus Christ: "O death, where is thy
sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the
strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory
through our Lord Jesus Christ." (I Corinthians 15:55-57)
The sting of death is sin - and the strength of sin is the law. Sin makes us
unable to face a Holy God after we die. We cannot keep God's Law. But Jesus
Christ has fixed that for us, He has given believers the "victory" or made us
winners over death. Praise God, we will never really die when we trust in Jesus
as our Lord.
Author Unknown
Letter From Heaven
To my dearest family, some things I'd like to say.
But first of all, to let you know, that I arrived okay. I'm writing this from
heaven. Here I dwell with God above. Here, there's no more tears of sadness;
Here is just eternal love.
Please do not be unhappy just because I'm out of sight. Remember that I am with
you every morning, noon and night. That day I had to leave you when my life on
earth was through.
God picked me up and hugged me and He said, "I welcome you. It's good to have
you back again, you were missed while you were gone. As for your dearest family,
They'll be here later on. I need you here badly, you're part of my plan. There's
so much that we have to do, to help our mortal man." God gave me a list of
things, that he wished for me to do. And foremost on the list, was to watch and
care for you. And when you lie in bed at night the day's chores put to flight.
God and I are closest to you....in the middle of the night.
When you think of my life on earth, and all those loving years. Because you are
only human, they are bound to bring you tears. But do not be afraid to cry: it
does relieve the pain. Remember there would be no flowers, unless there was some
rain.
I wish that I could tell you all that God has planned. If I were to tell you,
you wouldn't understand. But one thing is for certain, though my life on earth
is o'er. I'm closer to you now, than I ever was before. There are many rocky
roads ahead of you and many hills to climb; But together we can do it by taking
one day at a time.
It was always my philosophy and I'd like it for you too; That as you give unto
the world, the world will give to you. If you can help somebody who's in sorrow
and pain; Then you can say to God at night......"My day was not in vain." And
now I am contented....that my life was worthwhile.
Knowing as I passed along the way I made somebody smile. So if you meet somebody
who is sad and feeling low; Just lend a hand to pick him up, as on your way you
go. When you're walking down the street and you've got me on your mind; I'm
walking in your footsteps only half a step behind.
And when it's time for you to go....from that body to be free. Remember you're
not going.....you're coming here to me.
Author Unknown
Remember Adam
The following is a true story as told to the author by Margi Brockhaus, R.N. at
Children's Mercy Hospital in Kansas City. However, the person who sent me the
article forgot to include who the actual author was, so he/she is unknown. Adam
was just two weeks shy of his 12th birthday when he was diagnosed with malignant
fibrous histiocytoma, which is a cancer that is very rare in children. There are
only 15 known pediatric cases in the United States.
Adam was given only a 12% chance of survival. He went through three major
surgeries and a year and a half of chemotherapy. And throughout that time we all
came to know Adam well. You see, Adam never lost his sense of humor. And he was
very much a ladies' man; a heartbreaker who loved to tease and flirt with all
the nurses. A 12 year-old boy who endeared himself to every one of us. So in May
of 1992 when he was taken off therapy and given a clean bill of health, we all
shared in Adam's joy, and we finally thought that we had won one of our battles.
A month later he went out to California to celebrate and spend time at
Disneyland and Knott's Berry Farm and all those good places. One morning when he
tried to get up he was unable to walk and move his right arm. He was rushed back
to Children's Mercy Hospital where he was found to have a large brain tumor in
his brain stem.
The tumor was an extension of the previous cancer that he had had. The biopsy of
the tumor itself held almost a 20% chance of killing him, but Adam insisted on
the biopsy to see if there was any type of chemo that could be used to treat it.
The tumor was found to be inoperable.
Not only did he get cancer that is not known to occur in children, but Adam is
the first known case in medical history to have that cancer occur in his brain.
When Adam discovered that he was the first person in the world with this, he
said to me with his enduring sense of humor, "Well, at least I'll be remembered
for something."
He went downhill very quickly after that and, except for a few days to visit
friends, never got out of the hospital again. Toward the middle of September he
was really starting to withdraw. He would stop talking to his mother, with whom
he had a very close relationship. You see, Adam's parents were divorced and Adam
lived with his mom. And although Mom and Dad were still very bitter and angry
with one another, they put their feelings aside for the sake of Adam.
But their response to Adam's cancer was very different. Dad firmly believed,
after seeing so many sick and dying children at the hospital, that there was no
God anywhere that would let this happen to a child, while Mom continued to
believe and put her faith in God.
And for the previous year and a half that I worked with Adam, we had all called
on God's name frequently: "God will watch over you, Adam." "God can help you
through this." "Put your faith in God, Adam."
During those last two weeks, perhaps Adam was the most honest. He was very angry
at God because of what was happening to him. And I think he earned the right to
question God. But, at the same time, he simply said that he understood that this
was an imperfect world and that these things happen. This from a boy who had had
to grow up before his time, a boy who had lived through more pain and harsh
reality than many of us will ever face.
And that's when it occurred to me.
Throughout this entire time, from Adam's diagnosis over a year and a half ago
until now, no one had ever mentioned Jesus to Adam. No one had ever shared the
story of Jesus' pain and suffering in order to bridge the gap between God and
this imperfect world.
So one day when we were alone, I asked him if he believed in Jesus. He said he
wasn't really sure. He said his dad told him that there wasn't even a God. But
Adam didn't buy that. He said he believed anyway. But ever since he'd been sick,
his mom had stopped talking about Jesus. She talked about God, but not Jesus.
So Adam told me he wasn't really sure, but that he wanted to believe, and what
did I think? So I shared with him my feelings and my faith. Then he asked me,
"Why do you think Jesus lets this happen to kids?" And I said I didn't know. I
don't think any of us do.
But I did tell him that when I get to heaven I'm certainly going to ask Him.
And then Adam told me about his grandmother who was already in heaven. He talked
a great deal about her and he kept saying, "Do you think I'll see her when I get
there?" And I told him yes, that I believed he would.
During the last 24 hours, Adam was in a coma more often than not. There were
only a few hours that he was really coherent. But he told me before he went into
the coma that he was ready to die, that he didn't want to do this any more, that
his body had quit working.
The only reason he really didn't want to die was because he was worried about
his mom. He didn't want to leave her because he was afraid that she wouldn't be
able to handle it emotionally. But I told Adam it was ok, that I had talked to
his mom. And that she would miss him, and yes she loved him, but it was ok and
not to hang on for her sake. She did not want him to do that.
These were things Adam's mom could not share with him, but she told me. I became
kind of the go-between. Mom said this, Adam said that; but somehow it worked for
them.
All the while Adam's dad just sat in the corner, very angry, hardly able to
speak to Adam.
The last eight hours that Adam was alive, I sat with him and watched him go in
and out of a coma. But I also watched miracles begin to happen.
How can I tell you what occurred in that room? Even now, it is so vivid in my
mind and yet so hard to express.
At one point Adam began to giggle. And he said, "Grandma? It's me--Adam. Oh,
yeah, I'll be there. It's ok, you go on back, I'll be there. He said it was my
time, and I'm ready."
It was incredible, because even though I couldn't hear Grandma's answers, I knew
what she was saying by the look on Adam's face.
As he laid in bed, his face would suddenly brighten up. He would open his eyes a
little bit sometimes and always look up. He would smile, he would giggle. He
would gasp and hold his breath in excitement. It was unbelievable.
Then he began talking again. He said, "Yes? Yes, I'm ready. Really? Are you
sure? She's going to be there? Oh, that's neat. Oh, yes, I've heard it's
beautiful. Ok. Well, you don't think I'm ready? But I am ready. Oh . . . oh, I
understand. Well, then I'll go back and take care of those few things. All
right."
And then Adam laid still a while. And all of us in that room just looked on this
child's face and felt the presence in that room. And there was no question in
any of our minds who Adam was talking to.
And then, minutes later, he about came up off his pillow and he said, "Michael!
You're kidding! Really, oh that's so neat. Yeah, Michael, how ya doing?"
You see, Michael was another 13-year-old boy Adam had watched die just six weeks
before. Then Adam said, "That's awesome!" as only a teenager can say it. What
that "awesome" was about, I don't know. Michael was probably describing
something wonderful up in heaven.
Adam didn't say anything for a little while. And then he started to cry and I
reached over and stroked his face, and I said, "Adam, it's ok. Margi's here."
I asked him, "Is there anything you need?" And Adam shook his head and he said,
"Oh, it's so beautiful. It's so beautiful and it doesn't hurt." And I just sat
on his bed and sobbed with him.
Then he started up his conversation again. "Yes, oh, yes, I do think it is
beautiful. Oh you've made it so beautiful. Yes, I'm ready. And I'm not going to
hurt? Nobody will hurt? My mom won't hurt?" And his face got a little
distressed, because I think God was honest with him and told him that his mom
was going to hurt but that He'd take care of her.
Adam's breathing was starting to get very very erratic, and his mom sat down
next to him on the bed and was stroking his face and holding his hand and
telling him "Mom is here, Adam. Mom is here." Adam opened his eyes and looked up
into the room and said, "You've got to tell her that we'll be together again."
And Adam's mom said, "Oh, you're right Adam, we'll be together again." And Adam
repeated over, "You've got to tell her. Are You going to tell her? Ok. When are
You going to tell her?" Adam set his jaw and said, "No! Well, why are You going
to wait? No, You've got to tell her we'll be together again. Yes, yes, I'm
coming. But You've got to tell her we'll be together again."
Then Adam listened for a moment, and whatever God said to him, Adam's face began
to change. And suddenly it got so hot in that room that everyone noticed it.
There was a presence that we all felt. There was simply no denying it. And it
was at this point that I believe God started telling Adam about Jesus.
Adam got very upset and began to cry the kind of tears that you and I once had
before it became an old story to us. Can you remember? Can you recall what it
was like the first time you grasped the implications of what Christ did for you?
Can you remember how over-whelmed you were by it? By His willingness to be
crucified, to die for you?
Well, it was that kind of grief that rolled down Adam's cheek as he said, "Oh,
I'm so sorry. You did that for me, for everybody? Oh, I'm so sorry." And then he
said, "Yes God, I know . . . I know. Yes I do. Oh, yes, I really do."
Adam didn't say anything else for almost 45 minutes. Then at about 6:50 he
started making pre-death noises. I don't know how to describe it to you unless
you've been around a lot of children who have died. Things in your body just
happen and you make noises. And then Adam asked, "Are You sure there's room for
me? Ok. 8:20. Yes, I'll see You at 8:20. Yes, I'm ready. Yes, tell them I'm
coming." He kept repeating it over and over again.
At exactly 7:12 Adam took his last breath. But no one left that room. Usually
when a child dies it takes anywhere from 15 to 25 minutes for them to get what
is called the "mask of death" -- blood pools to the back of their body, their
faces turn grayish-white, and the body begins to get cold.
But with Adam none of that happened. His body stayed warm. His color remained.
He did not get that grayish shroud that children get. And the room stayed very
warm. There was such an incredible presence. And Adam's mom and I just wrapped
our arms around each other and prayed. And I watched Adam's father finally leave
his corner chair and make his way to the side of Adam's bed and get on his knees
and bow his head. I didn't hear everything he said. But I did her the Name of
Jesus. And, I believe with all my heart that Adam stayed in that room until
8:20.
I'm not sure why. I don't know if it was to witness how his mom would handle his
passing and to make sure she would be all right, or if it was to hear his dad
acknowledge Jesus Christ. But I do know that at exactly 8:20 everything that
should have happened an hour before started happening very, very quickly.
I know that Adam is in a far better place. But his life has touched mine in ways
I have yet to discover. And the last hours of his life will stay with me
forever. It is so vivid in my memory, I dream it. Adam reminds me daily that it
is not our circumstance but Christ's sacrifice that gives us hope, hope in the
midst of despair.
So tonight, when you tuck your children in bed, hold them close. Tell them about
Jesus. Tell them there's plenty of room.
And remember Adam . . .
Author Unknown