It was 8:45 this morning when I walked into the scene. She was lying on her bedroom floor... pale... eyes half open. She was so young. Her first seizure 10 months ago forever changed whatever life she enjoyed. This second seizure was her last. The nurse was on the floor confirming what I already knew. Her distraught husband was pacing back and forth (it felt like running)... crying like a child who just had his favorite toy forcibly taken from him. He didn't believe in anything spiritual or religious. He saw me, came up, and hugged me tight. He was weeping- "tell me where she is Bob- please tell me where she is!". His pain was so intense I couldn't think of anything worthwhile to say... so I prayed quietly... deeply- "Lord give me the right words to say..."- then I felt it coming from deep within... like a volcano erupting... the Lord's voice was clear... out of my mouth it came as I held this broken hurting shell of a man... "SHE'S HOME". We both wept... and prayed.
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