He accepted Jesus as his Savior. Spiritual warfare ceased.

My father’s perspective on life changed.

The last twenty-three years were lived differently from his first sixty years.

 

Cancer attacked his organs.

His spirit left his body.

 

Apparently I had faltering faith.

I wished that I could have heard his thoughts.

I desired to see the world through his eyes .

I needed to know his soul.

 

God sent a dream that gave me an amazing sense of peace.

 

Daddy sat on a bench in the hospital waiting room. I asked, “Daddy, why are you here?”

His reply was: “I’m waiting for your mother. She had one of her headaches.”

He stood up, walked down the hall singing.

I said, “I didn’t know that you were a vocalist.”

I noticed that he was taller.

His injured leg was healed. His permanent limp didn’t exist.

Wheelchair, crutches, cane, or elevated shoe were no longer needed.

No painful expression.

 

I woke up.

The clock registered two o’clock.

I arose at eight o’clock.

I dialed mother’s phone number.

No answer.

I contacted my brother.

“Mother is here with us,” he said. “She had a migraine. We took her to the hospital at two o’clock this morning.”