THUNDER
Thunder…
The sound of it was overwhelming. It surrounded. It took away all thought, all action, all need, or desire. There was nothing before this mighty sound, and nothing would exist after. It was pure power and strength.
With a surge of majesty, the source of the sound crested the hill in all their glory. Their bodies glistened with sweat; they ran together as one, their tails and mains whipped behind them like royal capes. One horse outran the others, his body stretching out like the string of a bow, then coming together just to snap back out. His back was straight and proud, his muscles rippled under his golden coat. This was his. Everything belonged to him. From the grass below his feet, to the sky opened up above him, it was his. He was a mustang.
A screech! The stallion whipped his head around, then immediately sprang through the panicked and scattering horses. He dodged them, as they ran unheeding away from the terrifying sound. He raced forward courageously to face this four footed beast that had dare to attack one of his mares. She was HIS. They saw him as he leaped forward, lengthening his stride.
In direct defiance, the largest of the canines leapt for the mare’s throat, missing by only a few centimeters as she bucked and tried to displace the two tearing at her hind quarters and legs. Her eyes were white with terror, and she screeched as she kicked out.
The stallion trumpeted his arrival as he flew into the fray. He scattered them with his vicious hooves and powerful strikes. He whipped his body around in a deadly dance as he fought for his mare. The canines scattered, leaving only the largest behind. He circled the stallion, snarling and gnashing his teeth. His shoulder bled profusely from a kick that he had narrowly avoided crushing his skull. The stallion watched him warily, his coat twitching as he switched his tail back and forth. The mare had long since abandoned the fight in search for the rest of the herd.
Impatient to finish this fight, the canine darted forward. The mustang became a spring of coiled energy, dodging as the dog feinted to his left then tried to catch his shoulder. Using brute strength, the stallion shoved him away. The dog was not that easily defeated, and leapt again. The stallion bit at the dog, his teeth catching his side, leaving a long bloody trail as the dog yelped in pain. The dog snarled and made a final leap for the stallion’s throat, rage in his yellowed eyes. With a neigh of outrage, the stallion turned and kicked out, catching the dog’s head. The sickening crunch and a slight exhale of breath were the only sound made as the dog crumpled in a heap. The stallion trampled his enemy, crushing his body into the dirt, still thirsty for blood.
Satisfied with the bloody heap of mangled skin and crushed bones, the stallion went in search of his herd. He was greeted as a king returning from battle, the sounds of his mares and foals echoing across the plains. With a whip of his head, the stallion reared, and then continued on his path. The heard followed, disappearing into a cloud of dust, leaving only thunder behind.
Thunder…
The sound of it was overwhelming. It surrounded. It took away all thought, all action, all need, or desire. There was nothing before this mighty sound, and nothing would exist after. It was pure power and strength.
With a surge of majesty, the source of the sound crested the hill in all their glory. Their bodies glistened with sweat; they ran together as one, their tails and mains whipped behind them like royal capes. One horse outran the others, his body stretching out like the string of a bow, then coming together just to snap back out. His back was straight and proud, his muscles rippled under his golden coat. This was his. Everything belonged to him. From the grass below his feet, to the sky opened up above him, it was his. He was a mustang.
A screech! The stallion whipped his head around, then immediately sprang through the panicked and scattering horses. He dodged them, as they ran unheeding away from the terrifying sound. He raced forward courageously to face this four footed beast that had dare to attack one of his mares. She was HIS. They saw him as he leaped forward, lengthening his stride.
In direct defiance, the largest of the canines leapt for the mare’s throat, missing by only a few centimeters as she bucked and tried to displace the two tearing at her hind quarters and legs. Her eyes were white with terror, and she screeched as she kicked out.
The stallion trumpeted his arrival as he flew into the fray. He scattered them with his vicious hooves and powerful strikes. He whipped his body around in a deadly dance as he fought for his mare. The canines scattered, leaving only the largest behind. He circled the stallion, snarling and gnashing his teeth. His shoulder bled profusely from a kick that he had narrowly avoided crushing his skull. The stallion watched him warily, his coat twitching as he switched his tail back and forth. The mare had long since abandoned the fight in search for the rest of the herd.
Impatient to finish this fight, the canine darted forward. The mustang became a spring of coiled energy, dodging as the dog feinted to his left then tried to catch his shoulder. Using brute strength, the stallion shoved him away. The dog was not that easily defeated, and leapt again. The stallion bit at the dog, his teeth catching his side, leaving a long bloody trail as the dog yelped in pain. The dog snarled and made a final leap for the stallion’s throat, rage in his yellowed eyes. With a neigh of outrage, the stallion turned and kicked out, catching the dog’s head. The sickening crunch and a slight exhale of breath were the only sound made as the dog crumpled in a heap. The stallion trampled his enemy, crushing his body into the dirt, still thirsty for blood.
Satisfied with the bloody heap of mangled skin and crushed bones, the stallion went in search of his herd. He was greeted as a king returning from battle, the sounds of his mares and foals echoing across the plains. With a whip of his head, the stallion reared, and then continued on his path. The heard followed, disappearing into a cloud of dust, leaving only thunder behind.
Short Stories
PEACE TO MY SOUL
“All right, let’s all pray for Jimmy’s dog, anyone else?”
A sea of small hands shot up, eager to give their prayer requests before the class room. One boy looked especially eager to share, so Miss Bariett called on him. Standing up, the boy suddenly turned shy and began fumbling with his coat.
“Pray for my sister she ain’t got hair.” The soft answer spoken, Jason immediately sat down, his face flushed in embarrassment. A peculiar statement from a kindergartener.
“Does not have, Jason. And did she cut it all off?” The correction and question were simple enough. Perhaps his sister was rebellious and had cut her hair, or possibly had even shaved it all off. The five year old looked nervous as he stood back up.
“No’m, she’s at the doctor. She stays in the room with lots of beeping things and she gets to eat ice cream after supper. Momma keeps praying she’ll come home.”
“Let’s pray a special prayer for Jason’s sister,” Miss Bariett said almost mechanically, before calling on her prayer leader to lead the class. Inside, her thought were turbulent. How old was Jason’s sister, sixteen? From Jason’s childish description, Miss Bariett could surmise what troubled the boy. His sister was sick at the hospital and was possibly taking medication that caused hair loss. But could it possibly be cancer? Lost in her thought, a student called her name twice before she opened her eyes and distractedly resumed the day’s lesson. Maybe she should talk to his mom; perhaps the students could make her a get well card that she could personally deliver to encourage her. Offering a small prayer, she turned her thoughts back to her class.
Tossing her keys in the basin on her hall table, Miss Bariett sighed in relief. She was mentally exhausted after a day of teaching and pondering about Jason’s sister. Hanging her coat in her closet, she returned to her living room and sat on the coach before picking up the phone. While waiting for Jason’s mother to answer, she surveyed her sparsely decorated apartment.
It was clearly apparent that she lived on a Christian school teacher’s salary. The few pieces of furniture she possessed had seen years of use, and the only knick knacks she had were gifts from her students. The one thing she had of value was her large book collection that took up half of her small wall. Rays of sunshine danced across the well-worn covers before she heard the phone click.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mrs. Carlyle? This is Jason’s teacher Ashley Bariett.”
“Oh, Miss Bariett, nice to hear from you, how can I help you?”
Miss Bariett pondered her response before answering. She didn’t want to seem nosy or bother the older woman. She was truly concerned about her student and his family. She prayed that God would give her the words to say.
“I’m calling to ask about Jason’s sister. He asked for a special prayer for her today and I wanted to make sure that everything was all right.”
Silence greeted her on the other end of the line. Just before she started to check and see if Mrs. Carlyle had hung up, she heard a sniff on the other end of the line.
“Lisa is staying at the hospital,” the broken voice replied, “she has a tumor on the left side of her brain. She’s taking chemo because they can’t do surgery on it, it’s too deep.” Mrs. Carlyle broke off into sobs.
This was worse than Miss Bariett had been expecting. Inoperable? But couldn’t doctors do miracles with technology now, using lasers and UV rays to get to things a scalpel can’t? It took everything she had to comfort the woman on the other end of the line, barely registering what she was saying. She knew it was God giving her the words to say in answer to her prayer to help her comfort this heartbroken mother.
“May I have the children sign a card and bring it personally to your daughter? I would love to visit her and pray with her if that’s okay.”
“Oh bless you, yes! Please do, that would make her day.”
It was settled. Once again her tender heart was reaching out to those hurting, wanting to help them and heal them as best as possible and share her Savior’s love.
Walking up to the desk, Miss Bariett asked for Lisa Carlyle’s room. Card in hand, she headed toward the elevator at the end of the hall. Passing by the rooms of the sick, her heart went out to this girl. She shouldn’t be in a place like this, full of hurt and death.
The card was a piece of poster she had cut to size and then allowed the students to draw pictures and scrawl their names on. Sweet messages from five year olds who didn’t understand and didn’t know who this girl was, but were willing to cheer up in their own way, littered the page. Across the middle, her own brother had drawn a picture of himself holding her hand with the inscription, “Please come home, sissy.” Miss Bariett had nearly cried when she saw the finished card on her desk, waiting to be delivered.
The elevator finally arrived on the sixth floor, and her heart broke. This was the children’s cancer ward. The walls were splashes of color, littered with art that the children had drawn and their pictures. Bulletin boards for different events and contests were hung on the wall, and paper chains hung from the wall, each bearing the name of a current or past patient. This was where Lisa was living.
Walking slowly, Miss Bariett could discern the sound of laughter coming from a room down the hall. Surprised, she realized it was Lisa’s room by the number by the door. Crowded around her twin sized bed were children of varying ages and race, each had one distinct feature that any eye could recognize: none of them had hair. In the middle sat Lisa, smiling and telling a story to the younger kids, using wide gestures and funny voices. She seemed like a ray of sunshine in a world of darkness, threatened to be eclipsed forever. Miss Bariett almost did not notice when Mrs. Carlyle came and stood on the other side of the door, both women watching the girl inside.
Finally, Lisa noticed her mother standing outside the door, and it seemed like her smile brightened even more. The children all turned to look and see what had caught their storyteller’s attention. Miss Bariett felt like an intruder in this small world of happiness, as Mrs. Carlyle ushered her in.
“Hello Lisa, I’m Miss Bariette, your brother’s teacher.” Lisa reached out and took her hand, shaking it firmly. She seemed thrilled by the surprise visitor.
“Nice to meet you Miss Bariett, thank you for coming to visit me. I hope you’re doing well. Is my brother behaving?” The playful tone in her voice and obvious adoration of her brother touched Miss Bariett’s heart.
“Nice to meet you too, Lisa. He’s a five year old boy, and acts like one,” she laughed, “I brought you something.” Pulling the card from behind her back, she presented it to Lisa. Lisa was quiet for a moment before her face lit with joy. Her thanks were more than enough to make the trip worthwhile.
The children had steadily trickled out and Mrs. Carlyle had gone to meet her husband in the cafeteria, leaving Miss Bariett alone with Lisa. Sitting in a chair by the bed, she began to notice the machines around them, previously unnoticed in the room full of children and chatter. Hooked to several machines, it seemed almost like something from a horror story instead of a sweet little girl in the hospital.
“Lisa, how old are you?” Miss Bariett asked.
“I’ll be eighteen if the Lord allows me to live till December.”
“What are you planning for college?”
Lisa smiled at Miss Bariett before answering, “I want to be a teacher.” The honest reply made perfect sense. With her sunny disposition, great imagination, and love for kids, Lisa would make a wonderful teacher.
“Lisa, do you know Jesus?”
Tears sprang to the girl’s eyes at the question, making Miss Bariett almost sorry she had asked, not wanting to upset her. The apology was already on her tongue, when Lisa smiled.
“Yes, ma’am, I know Jesus. He lives right here,” she patted her heart, “and He loves me, and I love Him. When I die, I’m going to heaven to be with Him and see my granddaddy.”
Miss Bariett smiled, tears coming to her eyes as she took Lisa’s hand. This was all she wanted, a chance to share the gospel. She praised God that He had sought out Lisa.
Over the course of a month, Miss Bariett continued to visit Lisa in the hospital. The doctors refused to let her go home because of her condition, and she remained hooked to the machines and taking weekly doses of chemo. Lisa never complained.
When a new child entered the ward, they were thrilled to meet Lisa and listen to her stories. Those who were hurting sought her kind guidance and advice. In Lisa, they found a playmate and companion, someone who would pray for them and hold them when the doctors came to give them shots. When a child was afraid to go to chemo or surgery, Lisa offered them encouragement and small gifts of candy or little crafts she had made.
When asked if she needed anything, she always asked for more materials to craft playthings for her small friends. When people asked to pray for her, she asked for them to pray for the children instead, because she knew where she was going and she believed God would heal her if He saw fit. Lisa was a testimony to everyone around her, and shared her faith with anyone willing to listen.
“You know the one thing I will miss?”
“What’s that?” asked Miss Bariett, as they worked together to knit a blanket for Lisa’s mother for Christmas.
“Falling in love. I wanted to fall in love with a man who loved God and marry him. I wanted to have kids and raise them to know my Gracious Redeemer. I wanted to grow old together, and have grandkids. I will miss that. And watching Jason grow up too,” she said with a chuckle.
Miss Bariett was quiet for a moment. Lisa usually would not talk like this; she was always full of faith that one day she would get to go home. Looking at her more closely, Miss Bariett was faced with the shocking truth. Lisa was getting worse. This beautiful soul that God had sent to bless so many people would soon leave this world forever. The eyes that sparkled with life were growing dull, her skin was pale, and her figure was almost skeletal. Lisa was so small the blankets barely rose with her form. The realization was a heavy blow, shocking Miss Bariett. She too had been hoping and praying for Lisa. She couldn’t contain the gasp as she began to sob. Why her, Lord, it’s not fair! She has so much potential, she could do so much for You. She hasn’t even had the chance to live!
Miss Bariett felt slender arms wrap around her, seeking to comfort her. Returning the embrace, she held tight to Lisa, desperate to hold her here on earth just a little longer. Lisa cried silently with her, letting her emotions show for the first time when she wasn’t alone. As strong as she was, Lisa was still just a scared little girl who had hopes and dreams that death would soon steal from her. Her only comfort and strength was her faith in her Savior.
It was four in the morning when Miss Bariett got the call that sent her rushing to the hospital. Throwing on a loose dress and flip flops, she grabbed her keys and rushed out the door. Lisa was dying and had asked for her.
Huddled in the room were her family and friends. The room was almost packed with the many people who loved Lisa. It was obvious that it was almost the end for Lisa, her eyes were hollow and her breathing was shallow. Despite it all, she had a beautiful smile on her face.
Everyone parted to let Miss Bariett kneel at the bed and take Lisa’s hand. Lisa asked her to take care of Jason, and not to let him get sad. She asked her to keep teaching so she could touch the lives she would never get the chance to reach. Lisa noticed her crying but didn’t have the strength to embrace her or wipe away the tears.
“Don’t cry, Miss Bariett. It’s all going to be okay now. Jesus is coming to get me. I don’t have to hurt anymore. Grandaddy’s waiting for me at the gate. I’m really glad we got to be friends. Please don’t be sad.”
Pulling herself together, Miss Bariett managed to smile through her tears. Even though she was looking death in the face, Lisa still sought to comfort those around her and encourage them. She was a true testimony for Christ.
Looking over at her pastor, Lisa asked if the choir could sing for her. Choking on his own tears, he asked what song she wanted to hear.
“It Is Well With My Soul,” she whispered.
Lisa didn’t die with visions of angels or bright lights. She didn’t claim to see Jesus or her granddaddy holding out their hand to her. Lisa simply smiled at those around her before breathing her last breath and slipping into eternity. Everyone broke down as the choir finished the fourth verse:
“For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.”
“All right, let’s all pray for Jimmy’s dog, anyone else?”
A sea of small hands shot up, eager to give their prayer requests before the class room. One boy looked especially eager to share, so Miss Bariett called on him. Standing up, the boy suddenly turned shy and began fumbling with his coat.
“Pray for my sister she ain’t got hair.” The soft answer spoken, Jason immediately sat down, his face flushed in embarrassment. A peculiar statement from a kindergartener.
“Does not have, Jason. And did she cut it all off?” The correction and question were simple enough. Perhaps his sister was rebellious and had cut her hair, or possibly had even shaved it all off. The five year old looked nervous as he stood back up.
“No’m, she’s at the doctor. She stays in the room with lots of beeping things and she gets to eat ice cream after supper. Momma keeps praying she’ll come home.”
“Let’s pray a special prayer for Jason’s sister,” Miss Bariett said almost mechanically, before calling on her prayer leader to lead the class. Inside, her thought were turbulent. How old was Jason’s sister, sixteen? From Jason’s childish description, Miss Bariett could surmise what troubled the boy. His sister was sick at the hospital and was possibly taking medication that caused hair loss. But could it possibly be cancer? Lost in her thought, a student called her name twice before she opened her eyes and distractedly resumed the day’s lesson. Maybe she should talk to his mom; perhaps the students could make her a get well card that she could personally deliver to encourage her. Offering a small prayer, she turned her thoughts back to her class.
Tossing her keys in the basin on her hall table, Miss Bariett sighed in relief. She was mentally exhausted after a day of teaching and pondering about Jason’s sister. Hanging her coat in her closet, she returned to her living room and sat on the coach before picking up the phone. While waiting for Jason’s mother to answer, she surveyed her sparsely decorated apartment.
It was clearly apparent that she lived on a Christian school teacher’s salary. The few pieces of furniture she possessed had seen years of use, and the only knick knacks she had were gifts from her students. The one thing she had of value was her large book collection that took up half of her small wall. Rays of sunshine danced across the well-worn covers before she heard the phone click.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mrs. Carlyle? This is Jason’s teacher Ashley Bariett.”
“Oh, Miss Bariett, nice to hear from you, how can I help you?”
Miss Bariett pondered her response before answering. She didn’t want to seem nosy or bother the older woman. She was truly concerned about her student and his family. She prayed that God would give her the words to say.
“I’m calling to ask about Jason’s sister. He asked for a special prayer for her today and I wanted to make sure that everything was all right.”
Silence greeted her on the other end of the line. Just before she started to check and see if Mrs. Carlyle had hung up, she heard a sniff on the other end of the line.
“Lisa is staying at the hospital,” the broken voice replied, “she has a tumor on the left side of her brain. She’s taking chemo because they can’t do surgery on it, it’s too deep.” Mrs. Carlyle broke off into sobs.
This was worse than Miss Bariett had been expecting. Inoperable? But couldn’t doctors do miracles with technology now, using lasers and UV rays to get to things a scalpel can’t? It took everything she had to comfort the woman on the other end of the line, barely registering what she was saying. She knew it was God giving her the words to say in answer to her prayer to help her comfort this heartbroken mother.
“May I have the children sign a card and bring it personally to your daughter? I would love to visit her and pray with her if that’s okay.”
“Oh bless you, yes! Please do, that would make her day.”
It was settled. Once again her tender heart was reaching out to those hurting, wanting to help them and heal them as best as possible and share her Savior’s love.
Walking up to the desk, Miss Bariett asked for Lisa Carlyle’s room. Card in hand, she headed toward the elevator at the end of the hall. Passing by the rooms of the sick, her heart went out to this girl. She shouldn’t be in a place like this, full of hurt and death.
The card was a piece of poster she had cut to size and then allowed the students to draw pictures and scrawl their names on. Sweet messages from five year olds who didn’t understand and didn’t know who this girl was, but were willing to cheer up in their own way, littered the page. Across the middle, her own brother had drawn a picture of himself holding her hand with the inscription, “Please come home, sissy.” Miss Bariett had nearly cried when she saw the finished card on her desk, waiting to be delivered.
The elevator finally arrived on the sixth floor, and her heart broke. This was the children’s cancer ward. The walls were splashes of color, littered with art that the children had drawn and their pictures. Bulletin boards for different events and contests were hung on the wall, and paper chains hung from the wall, each bearing the name of a current or past patient. This was where Lisa was living.
Walking slowly, Miss Bariett could discern the sound of laughter coming from a room down the hall. Surprised, she realized it was Lisa’s room by the number by the door. Crowded around her twin sized bed were children of varying ages and race, each had one distinct feature that any eye could recognize: none of them had hair. In the middle sat Lisa, smiling and telling a story to the younger kids, using wide gestures and funny voices. She seemed like a ray of sunshine in a world of darkness, threatened to be eclipsed forever. Miss Bariett almost did not notice when Mrs. Carlyle came and stood on the other side of the door, both women watching the girl inside.
Finally, Lisa noticed her mother standing outside the door, and it seemed like her smile brightened even more. The children all turned to look and see what had caught their storyteller’s attention. Miss Bariett felt like an intruder in this small world of happiness, as Mrs. Carlyle ushered her in.
“Hello Lisa, I’m Miss Bariette, your brother’s teacher.” Lisa reached out and took her hand, shaking it firmly. She seemed thrilled by the surprise visitor.
“Nice to meet you Miss Bariett, thank you for coming to visit me. I hope you’re doing well. Is my brother behaving?” The playful tone in her voice and obvious adoration of her brother touched Miss Bariett’s heart.
“Nice to meet you too, Lisa. He’s a five year old boy, and acts like one,” she laughed, “I brought you something.” Pulling the card from behind her back, she presented it to Lisa. Lisa was quiet for a moment before her face lit with joy. Her thanks were more than enough to make the trip worthwhile.
The children had steadily trickled out and Mrs. Carlyle had gone to meet her husband in the cafeteria, leaving Miss Bariett alone with Lisa. Sitting in a chair by the bed, she began to notice the machines around them, previously unnoticed in the room full of children and chatter. Hooked to several machines, it seemed almost like something from a horror story instead of a sweet little girl in the hospital.
“Lisa, how old are you?” Miss Bariett asked.
“I’ll be eighteen if the Lord allows me to live till December.”
“What are you planning for college?”
Lisa smiled at Miss Bariett before answering, “I want to be a teacher.” The honest reply made perfect sense. With her sunny disposition, great imagination, and love for kids, Lisa would make a wonderful teacher.
“Lisa, do you know Jesus?”
Tears sprang to the girl’s eyes at the question, making Miss Bariett almost sorry she had asked, not wanting to upset her. The apology was already on her tongue, when Lisa smiled.
“Yes, ma’am, I know Jesus. He lives right here,” she patted her heart, “and He loves me, and I love Him. When I die, I’m going to heaven to be with Him and see my granddaddy.”
Miss Bariett smiled, tears coming to her eyes as she took Lisa’s hand. This was all she wanted, a chance to share the gospel. She praised God that He had sought out Lisa.
Over the course of a month, Miss Bariett continued to visit Lisa in the hospital. The doctors refused to let her go home because of her condition, and she remained hooked to the machines and taking weekly doses of chemo. Lisa never complained.
When a new child entered the ward, they were thrilled to meet Lisa and listen to her stories. Those who were hurting sought her kind guidance and advice. In Lisa, they found a playmate and companion, someone who would pray for them and hold them when the doctors came to give them shots. When a child was afraid to go to chemo or surgery, Lisa offered them encouragement and small gifts of candy or little crafts she had made.
When asked if she needed anything, she always asked for more materials to craft playthings for her small friends. When people asked to pray for her, she asked for them to pray for the children instead, because she knew where she was going and she believed God would heal her if He saw fit. Lisa was a testimony to everyone around her, and shared her faith with anyone willing to listen.
“You know the one thing I will miss?”
“What’s that?” asked Miss Bariett, as they worked together to knit a blanket for Lisa’s mother for Christmas.
“Falling in love. I wanted to fall in love with a man who loved God and marry him. I wanted to have kids and raise them to know my Gracious Redeemer. I wanted to grow old together, and have grandkids. I will miss that. And watching Jason grow up too,” she said with a chuckle.
Miss Bariett was quiet for a moment. Lisa usually would not talk like this; she was always full of faith that one day she would get to go home. Looking at her more closely, Miss Bariett was faced with the shocking truth. Lisa was getting worse. This beautiful soul that God had sent to bless so many people would soon leave this world forever. The eyes that sparkled with life were growing dull, her skin was pale, and her figure was almost skeletal. Lisa was so small the blankets barely rose with her form. The realization was a heavy blow, shocking Miss Bariett. She too had been hoping and praying for Lisa. She couldn’t contain the gasp as she began to sob. Why her, Lord, it’s not fair! She has so much potential, she could do so much for You. She hasn’t even had the chance to live!
Miss Bariett felt slender arms wrap around her, seeking to comfort her. Returning the embrace, she held tight to Lisa, desperate to hold her here on earth just a little longer. Lisa cried silently with her, letting her emotions show for the first time when she wasn’t alone. As strong as she was, Lisa was still just a scared little girl who had hopes and dreams that death would soon steal from her. Her only comfort and strength was her faith in her Savior.
It was four in the morning when Miss Bariett got the call that sent her rushing to the hospital. Throwing on a loose dress and flip flops, she grabbed her keys and rushed out the door. Lisa was dying and had asked for her.
Huddled in the room were her family and friends. The room was almost packed with the many people who loved Lisa. It was obvious that it was almost the end for Lisa, her eyes were hollow and her breathing was shallow. Despite it all, she had a beautiful smile on her face.
Everyone parted to let Miss Bariett kneel at the bed and take Lisa’s hand. Lisa asked her to take care of Jason, and not to let him get sad. She asked her to keep teaching so she could touch the lives she would never get the chance to reach. Lisa noticed her crying but didn’t have the strength to embrace her or wipe away the tears.
“Don’t cry, Miss Bariett. It’s all going to be okay now. Jesus is coming to get me. I don’t have to hurt anymore. Grandaddy’s waiting for me at the gate. I’m really glad we got to be friends. Please don’t be sad.”
Pulling herself together, Miss Bariett managed to smile through her tears. Even though she was looking death in the face, Lisa still sought to comfort those around her and encourage them. She was a true testimony for Christ.
Looking over at her pastor, Lisa asked if the choir could sing for her. Choking on his own tears, he asked what song she wanted to hear.
“It Is Well With My Soul,” she whispered.
Lisa didn’t die with visions of angels or bright lights. She didn’t claim to see Jesus or her granddaddy holding out their hand to her. Lisa simply smiled at those around her before breathing her last breath and slipping into eternity. Everyone broke down as the choir finished the fourth verse:
“For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.”
Last update: 11-26-12
