It was at a summer church camp in Louisville in 1963. Songs around campfires in the
evening were the best times for spiritual stories and sacred songs. Testimonies
were offered by various teenagers and prayers followed slow, rhythmic singing.
One young lady from one of the Louisville churches told her story. It went like
She was a member
of a family that emigrated to the United States from Holland when she had been
a very young child. Several years after the family arrived, they celebrated the
birth of a younger brother. The life as a family was precious, warm, loving.
When he was four years old, her brother began to have health issues and they
increased. Finally he was diagnosed with leukemia and was given only a few
months to live. They were devastated. The father quit going to church. The
mother and the young woman telling the story went to church and prayed for
healing, for a miracle, for God's intervention to let her sweet brother live.
Her brother was healed, but not with the healing for which they prayed. He was
granted the Great Healing and went to his Eternal Home. His final moments in
this life had changed her, her mother and her father. He wanted to be at home
and there was nothing else that could be done in the hospital. So his
oncologist let him go home to spend his final hours with his family. His mother
was holding him, gently rocking him. His father had his arm around both of
them. Her brother had raised his head and asked in a surprisingly strong voice,
"When did you build that beautiful new room over there?", and pointed
over his mother's shoulder. All three members of his family lowered their heads
and began to sob. When they looked up again, he had passed over into that
"beautiful new room". To them, it was the same wall of the bedroom
that had always been there, but to him, it was his next Home.
When she told the story around the campfire, a few sobs were
heard, all of us had lowered our heads. We all prayed in silence together and
thanked God for her little brother.
See you in Church,