The Eleventh Hour Miracle
"I thought forgiveness would feel like a door opening," she continued. "It doesn't." "What does it feel like?" "Like putting down a heavy bag and discovering that my hands still ache from carrying it."
Hannah has been in a hospital bed for seven months, and the doctors have started talking about time. There is one suitable donor. He is the father who disappeared when she was five, and he is standing outside the hospital, unable to make himself come in. Her mother has spent twelve years praying he would face what he did. Now everything depends on him walking through the door, and on her being willing to let him. A short story about faith that does not pretend to be fearless, forgiveness that does not require trust, and grace that arrives late but still arrives.
For everyone still standing outside a door they are afraid to open.
“And about the eleventh hour he went out, and found others standing idle, and saith unto them, Why stand ye here all the day idle?”
“And when they came that were hired about the eleventh hour, they received every man a penny.”
Matthew 20:6, 9
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