Poverty, Pride, Purity: ... and then He intervened, ... The Reality of this Happy Hill boy. - Paperback
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Very early years as a child, 1950s:
She always called me the 'black, ugly, and stupid' one of the family. So much so, later on, the words ugly and stupid were banned in any talk among my wife and our two children at home, and black could only be used to define a color, but never a person.
Forty-five years old, October 1995:
The transplant on that Friday afternoon was a success. However, the night was an absolute nightmare. I was in terrible pain, and then the Happy Hill demons arrived, and through the open door of my hospital room, I could see the men, three or four, pacing back and forth in the corridor, waiting to take me away. I could hear them talking. I thought that they were from the CIA. They wanted to take me away! Where? I had no idea, but I was petrified! Maybe the men thought that my number had been called! So I prayed!
Sixty-two years old, November 2012:
When He arrives, we would stay with our Friend, walking, talking, laughing, not wanting to stop, just like spending time with your best friend (just better).
It would be a glorious time, friend and Friend chatting. There would be no emptiness there, just His fullness, nothing wanted, and there is no place for sickness there either (!). He is God, so He is able - He could, so He would.
No begging there, just Friends and Partners - joint heirs!
Then everything is solved, and all prayers are answered here because we are walking in His will - not once, not twice, but always!
The glorious life He wants for us all.
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