A duffle bag tumbled out of the dumpster, followed by a man. I wondered what or who would come next; a wife, children, pets?
That's how the question came, as a surprise, like the duffle bag and the man. "God, why didn't You heal Terry of cancer?" Stunned by the question, I wondered what would follow.
I didn't want the answer and was uninterested in asking God why. However, the question bubbled up. Out of nowhere, there it was. I ignored it, but it hung around like a gnat. I did not give the question much thought and was not waiting for a reply. I was content to leave it out there, lingering without an answer. Then the answer came.
God compassionately and gently told me Terry's body died because "He did My will, and his time here had come to an end." "My plan for him had come to completion." "It was time for him to come home to Me." "He is My son, and I wanted him home." "It was time for him to hear me say "Well done, my good and faithful servant."
God reminded me of a time when Terrence and Danielle were children. They played at the neighbor's house all...day...long. At some point in the middle of all that fun, Terry or I called them home. They are our children, and we wanted them home. God called Terry home in the middle of my wonderful life, in the middle of all that fun.
I heard God say, "I know you miss him, but you have all of Me, and you will have all of Me forever." He said, "I am yours forever. Even throughout eternity. I am yours, and you are Mine."
AfterTerry's death, I questioned whether I had the peace that passes understanding or complacency that caused me not to ask the question.
I now understood why God wanted me to have the answer to the question I had not asked. Before the question and answer, I felt guilty for allowing Terry to die. Had I not prayed enough? Had I not claimed the healing for my man?
God assured me I pleased Him by trusting in Him. I had no guilt in the matter. It wasn't up to me. God is Terry's father, and He wanted him home.
