This one was inspired by the same person that inspired Broken Pieces. Her husband died of cancer. I literally got chills when she told me, smiling through her tears, that God healed her husband completely. I think we forget sometimes that death is only the beginning of something much, MUCH better than what we could ever hope to imagine. Sometimes, after dozens of pleading prayers, God answers us by taking our loved ones home...


Years to months

and then to days.

He skipped the hours and went straight to the minutes.

Was it not enough to pray?

To have a disease that does not pause,

that does no giving, and only takes.

It slowly wears and tears,

not only him,

but those who also bear

the taking away of such a life

that was strong, once upon a time.

Was it not enough to pray?

To ask for anything to work,

for strength to make it through,

for the third time to actually be the charm,

could that saying possibly be true?

But no, it's not the third,

or fourth,

beyond that there is no point.

And is it not enough to pray?

To whisper in the dead of night,

beside a broken man

whose breaths are barely there?

To ask for yes instead of no?

Does He really even care?

The final utterance,

a last, desperate plea,

just one more life to live,

a second chance,

and if I must,

my life is mine to give.

He can have my heart,

my kidneys,

my blood that gives my heart a beat.

Will any of this get rid of that terrible disease?

My final prayer is one for hope,

because I've asked for everything else.

And to all else, the answer is no.

So maybe He'll say yes, this time.

Maybe He'll allow me hope.

Days later, I discover it's another 'no'.

And now he's gone and I am not,

and who is there to blame, but God?

Was it not enough to pray?

You said to ask, and I will receive,

the door will open

if only I would believe!

Did I not have that mustard seed?

I will not falter, and I won't break,

but I'm sure You see my bending faith.

I've been told that You know better,

and I truly want to say that's true,

but I've read about Your healing power,

that's all I ever asked from You.

That You would heal him,

make him better, maybe just a smile,

a breath that didn't hitch,

a stuttering whisper to get stronger,

maybe my prayers needed to be longer...

Stop.

And I do.

My answer was not 'no'.

But he's gone,

he broke.

His body, perhaps, but what of his soul?

Warmth invades my cold.

Do you believe in streets of gold?

You said that if I asked...

And did you not receive?

Just wait and you will see...

Doubt. It's still there,

but quickly fading.

How many these days have actually heard Him speak?

So you are listening to Me...

And what of the healing?

I saw what he turned into.

And now he's running, leaping, laughing...

some day you will see.

I wasn't planning on the tears,

and yet they've fallen.

Soon, so soon.

The answer was always 'yes'.

Because now you shall see,

that yes, healing is a power of Mine,

and I have healed him.

Completely.

Completely...?

Yes.

He's with Me.

~~OOO~~

- There are no streets of gold on earth,

the sun does not light up the night,

pearls do not fasten gates,

the constant emotion is certainly not delight.

To run on streets of gold

one must surrender their one and only soul

and accept the journey

for only then

can one be a permanent guest,

in a place where mighty rivers run

and there is no need for that beautiful sun -


"For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain."

~ Philippians 1:21 (Paul)