My 91 year old father is a Covid-19 survivor. His doctor calls him Lazarus. I call him Daddy and am so thankful he is home from the hospital and regaining his strength.
About a month ago, now, Daddy decided to go back to church and teach his Sunday School class for the first time since March. He loved teaching Sunday School, something he has done most of his adult life. A physician, he's a brilliant man who still pursued knowledge even in old age. And he always loved sharing his knowledge with his Sunday School students.
But that first day back, a man came to class not knowing that he had contracted the virus. He sat in an empty seat next to my brother who attends Daddy's class. A few days later, my dad and brother received notice that they had been exposed and a few days after that, they both showed symptoms and tested positive themselves.
Both were hospitalized but my brother's illness was not as severe and he was released a few days after being admitted. Daddy was released but then readmitted and remained in the hospital for ten more days, a very sick man. There were truly times we thought he wasn't going to make it. He finally received plasma with antibodies and began to turn the corner. The day he was released, the man who he had contracted the virus from passed away. That man was only in his 70's.
All of these men were Christians--my dad, my brother, and the man who passed away. They all had many people praying for them. Why did God take one and spare the others? God's ways are not my ways and long ago I stopped trying to understand why God chooses to do what He does. I learned years ago to pray to Him but trust His answers even when they differ from what I might have wanted, and to thank Him, always. Today, I thank Him again for choosing to give my 91 year old beloved father a little more time on this earth!
