Ginger was six years old when she and her Sunday school class made get well cards for church members. Hers was a bright purple card that said “I love you, but most of all God loves you!” She and her mom made the delivery.
My dad was bedfast, the end was near. He could extend his hand, but it was bent to a claw from disease. Ginger asked him a question as only a six year old can, “Are you going to die?” “Yes,” he responded, “but when, I don’t know.” She asked if he was afraid to go away. “Away is heaven,” he told her. “I’ll be with my Father. I’m ready to see Him eye to eye.”
A man near death, winking at the thought of it. Stripped of everything? It only appeared that way. In the end, Dad still had what no one could take—faith. And in the end, that’s all he needed!
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