The evening before my Dad passed away, we had him anointed. The pastor came to the hospital and all the relatives were gathered to go into his room together to pray, sing and anoint his head with oil. It is a beautiful thing to be a part of. My son Gerrit was anointed before both of his brain surgeries. It is very clearly stated in the Bible to do this for the sick and I am all for it. However, in this situation I just couldn’t be in the room.
I was torn. Can’t go into all the reasons for this, it just was what it was. I couldn’t handle it physically or mentally, and so, chose to take a walk instead.
The entire time I walked I prayed (begged really). I asked God to please heal him or take him. Over and over I asked Him that. Dad was suffering. I knew it, and I wanted it to stop.
Of course, if it were my choice, I would have rather He heal him. But I knew at this point that Gods will is what needed to happen, not mine.
After some time, I got a text from one of my brothers that said it was over and that I could come back to his room. So I headed back into the hospital.
As I was coming through the lobby, about to go around a corner into the long hallway, I just begged God to do one or the other. I pleaded over and over again (in my head) “Please, please, please, please…” and before I stopped saying the pleases… I heard a gentle, sweet, calm mans voice say… “It’s okay, Papa’s coming home tomorrow”.
I immediately felt comforted, and burst into tears at the same time. I felt as if God was speaking to me. I began to repeat it in my head. “It’s okay, Papa’s coming home tomorrow… It’s okay, Papa’s coming home…”
As I rounded the corner, it was actually a father comforting his two little boys with the news that their Papa was going to come home from the hospital tomorrow.
For me, however, it will always be Gods comforting voice… answering my pleas for help.
And Papa did go home the next day.