BILL

Bill had multiple sclerosis. He looked like Abraham Lincoln. Because he was younger, perhaps in his 60s, he was a little more aloof than most of the others. Our conversations had a time and subject limit, but I would always stop in and greet him. Ken, who was at that time ministering at a different home, got to know Bill just a bit when he would
stop in to pick me up.

One of the wonderful parts about my experience in this work was the way the administration grew to respect me and
depend upon me. For instance, when people refused to leave their rooms, they would ask me to work on the problem. And even though the staff, for the most part, was not Christian, when someone was dying, they would point me in that direction. This is what happened with Bill.

We all knew he was getting worse, but he still would not budge as far as listening to the gospel. One day, though, a nurse heard him say that he was afraid to die. She told me. That day, I waited outside for Ken to pick me up and told him what was going on. I thought it would be best for a guy to go in and talk to Bill. Ken parked and came in.

Bill was always watching television. It was one of the problems when trying to get a word in about the Lord. This day, however, because Bill had just returned from the hospital, and his room had been gotten ready for him, no one could find the remote. Ken latched on to that fact as a work of the Lord. He had Bill all to himself.