An Amazing Conversation

In the spring of 1995 my aunt was diagnosed with an inoperable, malignant, brain tumor, and given only six months to live. I was devastated.  She was a huge part of my life, and I loved her tremendously. She was always there for me through good times, and bad. Whenever I had exciting news to share with her she listened intently to each and every word, and would genuinely share in my elation. When I came to her with a problem, she never failed to make me feel better with her kind words, and loving assurance that everything would work out.

I went to visit my aunt regularly while she was battling cancer, and we had many wonderful conversations. Time was flying by, and my aunt's condition was deteriorating rapidly. I cherished every second of those visits. In the fall of the same year, about six months after her diagnosis, my aunt was no longer able to engage in long conversations with me. In fact, when I went for what would be one of my final visits, she had not said much, if anything, in a couple of days.

It took all the strength I could gather to approach my aunt's bedside on this visit, because I knew the end was near, and I was not ready for her to go. I approached her bed put her hand in mine and, I told her how very much she meant to me, I thanked her for all she had ever done for me, I told her there would be an emptiness in my heart forever after she was gone, and I told her that I loved her more than words could convey.

A few minutes passed, and I decided to walk into the next room to compose myself, and to get a cup of coffee. As I was pouring my coffee, I heard a voice engaged in what sounded like a joyful conversation coming from my aunt's bedroom. I was certain of two things, one that she was in there alone, and two the voice I was hearing belonged to my aunt. I raced back to her door,  and asked "Aunt Bessie are you talking to me?" Her reply left me stunned, and amazed. She said "no I am talking to mama and daddy, but they won't talk to me with you in here." I felt a lump swell in my throat the size of a grapefruit. My grandparents, like my aunt were good Christian people, and years earlier my grandparents had passed away. My grandfather had been gone for seventeen years, and my grandmother for seven. With tears in my eyes, I smiled at my aunt, told her okay, and that I would wait in the next room so that she could talk to them.

Within minutes, the stillness and quite returned to that bedroom, and two days later I was at my aunt's bedside, when she went home to be with the Lord. I have no doubt whatsoever that she is now in heaven rejoicing with my grandparents. Through this experience, God blessed me with joy, and comfort in the midst of tremendous sorrow.

If you want to spend eternity with your loved ones, I urge you to get right with God, ask him into your heart, and do it today. Don't wait, do it right now. Ask God to forgive you of all your sins, tell him you believe that Jesus was born, and that he died on the cross for your sins, and that he rose again. It is the greatest thing you will ever do.

If you would like for me to pray for you, leave me a message, and I will be happy to do so. May God bless you.