Twelve years ago, I was given five years to live. They said; “Tim, you have an incurable cancer and we will see you on Monday.” That was the most sobering time of my life.
But I couldn’t escape the idea that suicide would be a good escape. It was like I was holding on the casket of my wife, and as morbid as it sounds was like I was being buried. I remember picturing myself breaking my grip with...
We tried everything possible to make his life normal. He studied in a very good school. He tried to study hard and behave very well. Nevertheless, society had a hard time accepting him.
They were told I was really small, that I had a heart condition, and that my growth had been so impaired I looked like a two year old. There answer was, “We think God wants us to take him.”