“to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things?”
He had been in hospice care for months, his liver destroyed, his life slipping from him. I saw him once with many people around, stopped by once and was told he was resting, visited and prayed with him twice when he was in such pain that, through the fog of medication, I do not know if he could understand much of what was happening. In prayer with him, I preached the gospel twice (with his wife in the room) both at the hospital and at his home. But I had been praying for a conscious moment for him, to look in his eyes and share Jesus.
Saturday night I rode the elevator up to the fourth floor and walked into a still and dark room. The bed was made, and he was gone. I found out later that he had died the day before.
I helped the widow find the phone number of the pastor that the family wanted to conduct the funeral, formally the pastor of the little church I serve now.
At the visitation, all I could do way pray that they were weeping for the right reasons, and make sure they knew I was really there if they needed me.
I could spend years listing things that I should have done differently in trying to reach him and the family. But nothing prepared me for that dark hospital room, and no one called me to let me know he was gone. They were understandably busy.
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