The man is at MD Anderson. He is pushing his father’s wheelchair through the halls toward a fountain. Lauren is walking beside the wheelchair.
“I want you to know something.”
“I finally understand what you were saying about the blessing you gave me.”
“I didn’t really want to give you that blessing. I felt really constrained to.”
“And I have to tell you, I didn’t like your interpretation of it.” His father pulls out a black spiral notepad he keeps in his shirt pocket. “You texted me what you read in Ezekiel 37 and how you interpreted it, and I know you were trying to convey something deeper. But here’s what I wrote about it: ‘Gordon believes the blessing of healing he gave refers to the Resurrection. Whoop tee do. I already knew I was going to be resurrected.’”
The man nods. “I can understand that.”
“But it’s different now. The other day, I was reading about how the people of Limhi discovered the land of dry bones—the old Jaredite civilization. I started meditating about those dry bones, and the Spirit really sunk into my heart and mind. I can’t explain in words what I learned. But I know what you were trying to say now. I know it. The Resurrection is a healing. A gift. A real permanent healing.”
“Yes,” says the man.
“I get it now. I’m going to die. And the Lord is going to heal me.”