Proof The Bible Is True

Every family has a favorite story. The one they tell over and over. In my family the story begins in Springfield, Ohio, where Paw-Paw lived in the 1940s. Growing up, spending summers with my grandparents, I never tired of hearing it. I can still see myself sitting out on the porch, listening to Paw-Paw intently, though I already knew every word by heart. Paw-Paw was a tough man. Men of color weren’t given a lot of opportunities back then, but he started several successful businesses, including a company that provided windows for commercial buildings, and a popular neighborhood grocery. He even owned real estate. He wasn’t the type of man to make up a story.

 

“The doctors diagnosed me with esophageal cancer,” Paw-Paw explained again one summer night in his low, gravelly voice as we sat outside on the porch. “Probably from all those years of cigar smoking.” Paw-Paw consulted with doctors at Ohio State University of Medicine and was sent to a clinic in Cleveland for treatment. “In those days, if you were diagnosed with cancer, the odds you would survive were pretty slim.” Six other men with the same condition went with him. They were all scheduled for surgery.

 

“It was the night before mine,” Paw-Paw said, looking up at the stars. “I’d been a patient long enough to know all the staff, the routines. But that night a new nurse appeared. I’d never seen her before. She didn’t check my temperature or fluff my pillows. She brought me a message.”

 

“What was the message, Paw-Paw?” I asked, on cue.

 

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