I didn't want my brother to die. I still don't. I look at the big eyes of his small children as they tell me a story, and I cannot understand. I start feeling like something is being squeezed inside, becoming tighter and tighter. Next month his oldest son turns 7. My oldest son turns 7 next month too, and I can't imagine telling him that he will never see his dad in this life again. He adores his dad. Dad is the smartest. Dad is the strongest. Dad is the cutest. (I've brain-washed them a little.) One night this week, my husband worked until 8pm. I felt like the day dragged on and on. There was no one coming home signaling the end of the work day and time for the family to be together and play. No adult lingering conversation around the dinner table. It's sad to think that every day for my sister-in-law is like that day. It is hard to stay motivated. I would not want that for anyone.
Recently, though, I saw something much worse. A relative of my husband also had heart surgery. Things went badly and the doctors thought he wouldn't make it. I kept checking the updates on him and praying that God would spare his life. This man hung between life and Hell. Through Jesus our pain is temporary. Without Him death is tragic.
The man pulled through. God gave him another chance, but will he take it?
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