Why do I love reading love stories that really happened? Is it the part of me that enjoys real butter, homemade bread, chicken soup from scratch . . . or the fact that a little suffering creates a great big desire for authenticity? Most of all, I think it’s the fact that true stories show me another facet of our Heavenly Father. They help me glimpse how He works, and Who He is.
A year ago, my dad’s baby sister – the aunt who’s a lot like the big sister I never had – was diagnosed with cancer. She’s the bubbly one; her quiet husband has little to say. But in the last year, he has said a lot with his actions. He cooks and does the shopping, and plugs away at a difficult job – so she can have the care she needs. He has laid down his life by lying down on the living room floor, or on a hard hospital couch, ready to jump up a dozen times a night to help her.
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