Someone once posted on Facebook about "the scariest day of his life." That instantly made me wonder what mine was. When you reach my age, you might have a variety to choose from.
There was the day I found myself alone and cornered in an office by someone twice my size, who had evil intentions toward me.
There was the day we raced to the doctor at 90 mph down country roads as I held my seizing two-year-old, wondering if he would die right there in my arms.
There was the day I found myself looking straight through the windshield into another windshield just seconds before we hit head-on.
There was the day the telephone operator broke through my conversation with one of my piano student's mother with an emergency cut-in. Within minutes I heard that my husband had been shot in the line of duty, and I jumped in the car for a sixty mile trip to the hospital, not knowing what I would find when I got there.
Then there was the week afterward when, because he was under threat from the family of the felon who had ambushed him and because he had five bullet holes in him and was certainly not able to do it himself, I sat up by the window, keeping watch every night.
There was the day I received another phone call. My husband had been found lying in the middle of the highway having convulsions. I followed the ambulance to the hospital and sat for hours wondering how my life was about to change.
There was the day I signed page after page after page, including handwritten clauses going up the side of the paper saying, "I understand that no one knows how this material will interact with human tissue." Then I went into a first of its kind surgery with a surgeon who, though one of the best in the world, still had to practice two or three times (on pigs' eyes!) before he touched me, and I was wondering if I would ever see again.
I am sure other women my age have lists exactly like this one. I know older women who have much scarier lists. My own great-grandmother buried four of her children--three tiny ones and another who was killed in World War II. The length of the list is not the point. Nothing in this life, no matter how scary, is scarier than this: facing death knowing one is not right with God. I will do my best to see that that does not happen.
How about you?
For the time is come for judgment to begin at the house of God: and if it begin first at us, what shall be the end of them that obey not the gospel of God? (1Pet 4:17)
Dene Ward
There was the day I found myself alone and cornered in an office by someone twice my size, who had evil intentions toward me.
There was the day we raced to the doctor at 90 mph down country roads as I held my seizing two-year-old, wondering if he would die right there in my arms.
There was the day I found myself looking straight through the windshield into another windshield just seconds before we hit head-on.
There was the day the telephone operator broke through my conversation with one of my piano student's mother with an emergency cut-in. Within minutes I heard that my husband had been shot in the line of duty, and I jumped in the car for a sixty mile trip to the hospital, not knowing what I would find when I got there.
Then there was the week afterward when, because he was under threat from the family of the felon who had ambushed him and because he had five bullet holes in him and was certainly not able to do it himself, I sat up by the window, keeping watch every night.
There was the day I received another phone call. My husband had been found lying in the middle of the highway having convulsions. I followed the ambulance to the hospital and sat for hours wondering how my life was about to change.
There was the day I signed page after page after page, including handwritten clauses going up the side of the paper saying, "I understand that no one knows how this material will interact with human tissue." Then I went into a first of its kind surgery with a surgeon who, though one of the best in the world, still had to practice two or three times (on pigs' eyes!) before he touched me, and I was wondering if I would ever see again.
I am sure other women my age have lists exactly like this one. I know older women who have much scarier lists. My own great-grandmother buried four of her children--three tiny ones and another who was killed in World War II. The length of the list is not the point. Nothing in this life, no matter how scary, is scarier than this: facing death knowing one is not right with God. I will do my best to see that that does not happen.
How about you?
For the time is come for judgment to begin at the house of God: and if it begin first at us, what shall be the end of them that obey not the gospel of God? (1Pet 4:17)
Dene Ward
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