Jolene knew everyone was gathered around her, a lifetime of family and friends who had ignored her warnings. Now they were unequipped to deal with the realities of life. And the realities of death.
Suddenly, she found herself standing on an old wooden bridge. But she was grateful; every pain was gone from her aged body.
Then she was back in bed, struggling to breathe. She caught a glimpse of Jake, her youngest grandson, now an adult. He was there with his “family,” the girl he never married and the children they had together. And they had separately. Jolene grieved remembering how they scorned her faith.
Then she was back on the bridge, but younger this time. She felt healthy and began to stroll across.
Then she caught a glimpse of her youngest son. He had believed until he attended college. She had begged him to reconsider his choices.
She looked at her hand on the bridge rail, it was younger yet. Her step was light and she allowed herself a graceful spin.
Back in the bed, her husband whispered love in her ear. They had been married sixty years. When they wed he lived as a believer. Then he went off to war, and he became angry at God. She had prayed, but he never repented.
She skipped along the bridge in her twenty year old body. It felt so good to be young.
“Goodbye, Jolene, you crazy old coot.” It was Sharon, her childhood friend. Sharon thought Jolene’s faith was insanity.
Jolene reached the other side of the bridge and looked down as her five year old feet stepped off the bridge. There He sat in the grass. She sat down in His lap and cried for her lost family and friends.
When Jolene looked up into Jesus’ eyes, He was crying, too.