Your name was Renville.
You were sitting in a hospice bed in Montego Bay, Jamaica, and preached the best homily I've ever heard. You spoke of Jesus, the Good Shepherd. Your joy and hope in our Savior took my breath away.
You broke your back retrieving bread fruit from a tall tree while working as a carpenter. You’ve spent six years in a hospital bed and the last three here in this hospice.
You told me you weren't afraid to die. After our long talk, you motioned me close and whispered into my ear, "If I get to heaven first, I'll save you a seat next to me. I'll be the first to welcome you home." I look forward to that day.
You were sitting in a hospice bed in Montego Bay, Jamaica, and preached the best homily I've ever heard. You spoke of Jesus, the Good Shepherd. Your joy and hope in our Savior took my breath away.
You broke your back retrieving bread fruit from a tall tree while working as a carpenter. You’ve spent six years in a hospital bed and the last three here in this hospice.
You told me you weren't afraid to die. After our long talk, you motioned me close and whispered into my ear, "If I get to heaven first, I'll save you a seat next to me. I'll be the first to welcome you home." I look forward to that day.
Comments