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A stroke left her hovering between life and the hereafter, but a familiar voice told her it was not yet her time.
There wasn’t a hint of anger. Just love. The love that can only come from a parent. His whole life he’d cared for me, looked after me. He was the one who had always believed in me. I could feel his warmth, his strength, supporting me, like angel wings. I looked around, the mist as thick as ever.
“I don’t know which way to go,” I said. “I can’t get back on my own.” Daddy shook his head. “You'll be fine. Follow the light, until you get to the other side.” He pointed and I followed his outstretched arm. A few feet in front of us a narrow, bright ray of light cut through the haze.
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“Bye, Daddy,” I said. “I love you.”
I walked toward the light, then suddenly I was in my bed. “She’s coming back!” I heard the doctor say.
I spent that Christmas in the hospital, healing, slowly regaining my strength. It was a frightening time. Not at all the relaxing holiday I’d planned.
Still, I cherished the gift I’d been given, the comfort of knowing that Daddy’s spirit would always be there for me not only at Christmas, but in the days ahead, a journey sure to be filled with God’s blessings.
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