P21The Curious Life of a Preacher's Wife

Plot Background Story: "Fuerza's Home-Going"

Heavy steps took Fuerza from the car, through the front door, and immediately to the big sofa in the living room. Struggling to breathe, he managed, "Azul, are you home?"

The aromas of Breakfast for Supper, his favorite homecoming meal, wafted out from the kitchen, tickling his nose with sizzling bacon, that he not only smelled but heard. Just behind the delectable smells came the face of Azul, his lovely wife. "Of course, My Dearest. I fixing your favorite meal."

"I know. Thank you. The bacon arrived before you did." His voice was gravelly and weak, but still hopeful and filled with joy.

"Why didn't you come on in to the kitchen? I've been looking for your return all day."

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I wanted to do that very thing, but this is as far as I could go. I felt really weak coming up the steps, and I had to sit down."

"What's wrong? Didn't you get enough sleep during the revival?"

"I tried to, but the people kept coming, needing prayer and ministry into the wee hours of the morning, every night."

"Well, you don't have anywhere to go this entire weekend, and I want to call Pastor Roberto right after supper to preach for you on Sunday morning. I think the preacher needs a break."

"De veras. I will not argue with you about that."

"But there's more, Fuerza. Your color doesn't look quite right, and you can't seem to hold up your head to look at me when you talk. I want to take you to Doctor Salud as soon as I can get you in." A tear coursed down her cheek as she continued to look for signs of the man she knew.

"Again. No arguments. I need to take a nap before dinner." Closing his eyes, he was asleep.

On Monday morning Azul convinced Doctor Salud, that her husband's condition was "if not an emergency, then nearly so." He agreed to see the pastor at 4:00 that afternoon.

After the preliminaries of checking blood pressure, pulse, tongue color and coating, and fluid samples for testing purposes, Doctor Salud said, "Fuerza, I'd like to take a chest X-ray."

"Okay," said Fuerza. "What do you think I've got?" It can't be more than the flu, he thought.

"I'm not sure, Fuerza," Doc said. "I have a possibility, but I don't want to say until I'm sure."

"How long with that take?"

"Probably, 15 minutes. A half-hour tops. Taking the X-ray is quick enough, but I want a few minutes to look it over carefully."

"That's fine. I'll ask Azul to get me a cup of coffee, while we wait. It's about time for my afternoon cup, and Café Grande is our favorite hole-in-the-wall is just around the corner."

"Sure, but if my suspicions are right, you may not be able to finish that cup."

"Qué lastima."

"That would, indeed, be a pity. Follow me," he said as he turned on his heels.

A few sips of coffee and twenty minutes later the doctor walked in looking grave. "I'm glad you're both sitting down. I have some bad news."

Azul jumped to her feet. "What is it? Please, tell me something good!"

"Please, sit back down. I don't want you to hurt yourself." He waited. She sat. "Good. Fuerza, you have large masses of tissue on both lungs. I'm going to put you under local anesthetic, and take samples. I should have the results in a couple of days."

"What do you think it is?"

"And there's more."

"More?" Fuerza and Azul were both ready to faint.

"Yes. You have three blockages on vessels, that feed your heart muscle. You need bypass surgery, but that could be the lesser of your worries."

The preacher and his wife drove home in shock, getting there by the Grace of God. Azul spoke first. "What're we going to do, Fuerza?"

"We're going to pray. If the Lord wants to, He can heal me. If it's time for my Home-going, I'm ready. I sense, that you still have something to do with your life, Azul. Seek the Lord. Serve Him, and love Him with all of your heart."

The doctor's office called Wednesday morning to set up Fuerza's next appointment for that afternoon.

Walking into his office with the preacher and his wife, the doctor motioned to the couch. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Fuerza, you have cancer in its final stages. When I realized this, I pulled your history. It's been two years since I've seen you. At your age, where have you been?"

"I've been on the road, conducting revival services. I've felt better than I have for a couple of decades. I didn't see any need to come in for Well Visits. The ministry has been growing off-the-carts. The Lord has been saving souls. People have been getting healed-"

"-Except for you." The doctor cut him off. "I could have saved you." His anger remained under a thin veil.

"Maybe you could have helped this body, but the Lord Jesus saved me where it really counts many years ago. He sacrificed His Body for me. Shouldn't I sacrifice mine for Him?"

The doctor took in a deep breath, and let it out loudly. "You have maybe three weeks."

"That's more than enough time, Doc. Thank you," Fuerza said. "How is your soul, Doctor? If I just told you, that you only had three weeks to live, how would you feel?"

"I don't know what you are talking about, Preacher. Frankly, I'd be scared because I don't know what's out there. I don't know what comes next."

"Then, may I help you to see the health of your heart, today. You did that for me on Monday. It would be my honor and great joy."

The doctor said, "Yes," and about an hour later the preacher was a veritable spiritual obstetrician, welcoming one of the Lord's new babies into the world. "Your salvation makes you my brother," Fuerza said. "Start your new life by reading the Gospel of John as well as the first letter of John in the New Testament. I'll be in Heaven in three weeks, and I will be waiting for you and Azul when it is time for each of you to come Home."

As good as his word, three weeks later Fuerza, el predicador (aka the preacher,) breathed his last.

by Jay O’Toole
on October 30th, 2021