The most painful decision of my life was asking God to take her home. She had been suffering from repeated brain seizures and her body was wasted. I whispered in her ear: “Honey, I love you. I love you. Jesus wants you to come home. We are going to be all right. We give you permission to let go.” She closed her eyes and fell asleep. . . .
As I write this letter, I realize I am without my editor. My greatest critic. My teammate. Soul mate. Prayer mate. Partner in everything. We traveled the roads less traveled together in hard times and good times.
Honey, I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I will keep the light on for the kids. I will be there for friends. And one day we are going to join you. All of us. Because Jesus promised it.
“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints” (Psalm 116:15).
— Bill Donahue and Russ Robinson, Building a Church of Small Groups (Zondervan, 2001)
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