“I have pancreatic cancer. But I’m not letting them cut me open. I’m fighting this naturally.”
When she said that I teared up and reached for her yellowed hand.
Not because she has cancer, although that’s sad.
But because I know she’ll be dead soon.
She has insurance, and money, but she doesn’t want a colostomy.
I wanted to say, “But Steve Jobs…”
I didn’t though. Because sometimes you just have to think things, instead of saying them.
She asked me to pray for her and I will.
“Mrs. Douglas, stop back by when you see my car out there by itself, so we can spend sometime together and pray.”
She promised she would.
In anticipation of that day, I went ahead and put Steve Jobs biography and my office Bible on the small table between the two leather chairs.
God opens a door, I stick a Steve Jobs biography in it faster than a Jehovah’s Witness can hand you a Watch Tower magazine!