Miracles by Terri Blackstock

ma’am?”
    â€œFine,” she mouthed, as if too weak to project. Then he heard a strong voice that wasn’t coming from her lips. “It’s too late. Way too late. So many years wasted.”
    Sam took a step back and tried to signal John with his eyes that he’d heard something. Then he realized that if he leaned over and whispered to John, she probably didn’t even have the strength to notice.
    John’s eyes riveted into Sam’s, and he nodded for him to pass it on.
    â€œShe thinks it’s too late,” Sam said quietly, and he saw her looking at him, straining to hear. “She thinks she’s wasted years.”
    John frowned as if he didn’t know what to make of that. “But does she know the Lord?” John whispered.
    As if in answer, the voice came again. “All the people I could have taken to heaven with me. But I was more concerned about doing that busy church work and keeping a clean house.”
    Yes, Sam thought. She knew Christ. At once, a boldness overtook him and he wanted to talk to her, to help her. He didn’t want to play games by whispering to John. He stepped around the bed and got closer to her. “Miss Annabelle,” he said. “The Lord has revealed something about you to me. Do you mind if I tell you what it is?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œThe Lord told me that you’re concerned because you didn’t lead more people to Christ. That you feel you were more preoccupied with church work and housework than with soul winning.”
    Her eyes brimmed with tears, and her mouth came open as she tried to speak. She looked from Sam to the preacher and squeezed his hand. “Think . . . how many people . . . I could have helped.”
    John bent down over her, still holding her gnarled hand. “Miss Annabelle, let me pray for you.”
    Sam bowed his head as John began to pray for the old woman who was suffering her last hours of life on earth and worrying about coming face to face with the One who knew her original potential.
    Later, when they were back out in the hall, John smiled softly. “Miss Annabelle will be in heaven soon.”
    â€œYes, she will,” Sam said. “She’s definitely a Christian. But she seemed so sad about what she hadn’t done.”
    â€œI think a lot of us are going to feel that way when we get to the end,” John said. “I see that a lot.”
    They went on to the next room that John had on his list. “Who are we gonna see now?” Sam asked.
    â€œSid Beautral. You know, Hattie Beautral’s husband?”
    Sam frowned. “I thought she was a widow.”
    â€œNo, she just comes alone. He’s not big on church. He had gallbladder surgery.”
    â€œSo he’s not dying?”
    â€œNo, just recovering.”
    â€œThank goodness,” Sam said. They paused at the door and John knocked. A woman called, “Come in.”
    John pushed the door open. “Hello, Miss Hattie. How are you, Sid?”
    John hugged the woman easily, then shook the hand of the man in bed. It seemed second nature to John to embrace the weak, while Sam found creative ways to avoid them.
    â€œWhat brings you here, Preacher?” the man asked gruffly. “You know I ain’t dying.”
    â€œOf course you’re not,” John said. “I don’t just visit dying people. I visit anybody in my flock who’s in the hospital.”
    â€œYou count me in your flock?” he asked skeptically.
    â€œYes, believe it or not, I do. Now, how are you doing?”
    Sid shrugged. “Guess I’m okay.”
    Then Sam heard his voice again, but Sid’s lips didn’t move. “I’m powerless. Can’t defend myself. All my life is in somebody else’s control.”
    Sam nudged John. John nodded, encouraging him to speak. Sam cleared his throat and tapped his hand nervously on the bedrail. “Uh . . . Mr. Beautral, you’re probably