It was late one evening, around 9:00 pm, and my wife was reading to me. It was my single source of comfort me as I lay there with eyes fixed on the clock, counting every second, every breath. Then we heard it. "Code Blue. Room 334." It was the room right next to mine. I could see out of the corner of my eye three or four hospital personnel rush past my door.

'What's happening?' I asked frantically.

"The patient in the next room must have gone into arrest," she quietly answered. She stopped reading and we both just remained silent. The second hand seemed to move as minutes and the minute hand as hours.

We waited.

After several minutes, people began slowly walking out of the next room and past my door. Then, finally, the bed was rolled out carrying an empty shell, a body without its soul. My neighbor had passed into eternity and in a matter of seconds would be meeting his Savior. I could almost picture him in his speedy flight into the Light and for the first time in five weeks since my accident, I cried. Tears that rolled out of my eyes down the side of my head dripped into my ears. My wife grabbed a Kleenex and reached over to comfort me.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

Once again I was made aware of the seriousness of my condition. Was I next? What does it feel like to die? After the breathlessness of a few nights ago and the weeks of discomfort and exhaustion I'd been going through resulting in only little progress, I couldn't be sure that my soul wouldn't be the next spirit to flee as bird to the Holy Mountain. As sweet as it sounds, death seemed so unnatural. I'm only 25. I don't care that I'm paralyzed. People just don't die at my age. The thought of 'What if...' consumed my thoughts for the entire sleepless night. 'Is that what will come of me?'  I sought my Heavenly Father for some kind of answer. Something I could hold on to. I thought to myself, in my somewhat familiar knowledge of the New Testament, what would God say? What does the Creator say to a suffering servant?

Then the words came. They weren't audible to me. It was just a kind of knowing. "Trust in Me."