By Debra Torres
It was a perfect time for a bike ride. The early evening air wasn’t too hot and the sky was still a bright blue.
I took two of my children on the ride and slowly we made our way up and down our rolling Pennsylvania hills.
There was one hill though, that I wish we had never attempted to go down. One hill that, in hindsight, we should have quit on and turned back.
But I guess it was a path that we were supposed to take. One God would use to teach me a painful, but important lesson.
My son made his way down the incline at breakneck speed. Enjoying, I’m sure, the smooth sense of “flying” you can get that comes with a good hill.
But my daughter wasn’t so fortunate.
She hadn’t been feeling very well on the ride, and we’re not sure if she fainted on her way down or simply lost control of her bike. Either way ...
A few nights ago, a pastor we knew crawled into bed for a good night’s sleep and woke up in heaven.
A strange feeling of shock mixed with an honest curiosity crept over me when I heard the news.
The pastor, Elston, had a heart that loved the Lord and he lived his life accordingly. I knew where Elston “ended up” and couldn’t help but wonder what he was experiencing.
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