heels. For Sonja, this little boy was an even more special gift directly from
the hand of a loving, heavenly Father.
Now, as I watched her face above Colton’s pale form, I could see terrible
questions forming in her mind: What are you doing, God? Are you going
to take this child too?
Colton’s face appeared pinched and pale, his face a tiny moon in the
stark hallway. The shadows around his eyes had deepened into dark,
purple hollows. He wasn’t screaming anymore, or even crying. He was just
... still.
Again it reminded me of those dying patients I had seen hovering on the
threshold between earth and eternity. Tears filled my eyes, blurring the
image of my son like rain on a windowpane. Sonja looked up at me, her
own tears streaming. “I think this is it,” she said.