Death.  It's so final.  There's no chance to say good-bye or anything.  Just a phone call to announce she's gone.  She called here not  week ago to wish us happy new year.  Said she and her husband were bringing the baby over for us to meet the little one.  Jim saw her last time he was at Bethesda Hospital.  She worked there in the optometry department.  She was warm, friendly, outgoing, and she made her department.  Brought in all sorts of customers with her winning personality.  She was left with four kids when her first husband died rather suddenly of rapid onset malaria.  She was devastated.  We helped her out.  Gave her a short-term job and a mattress. She had been sleeping on a chair.  The kids were all together on one mattress on the floor.  They were dirt poor.  But time went by and she landed her good job.  The children were growing up.  Then one day another husband came into her life.  He was from Germany.  They fell in love and got married.  We were there to celebrate that joyous occasion.  Her oldest son (is he 20 already?) wrote and sang a song to his mom and his new step-dad.  Two years later she gave birth to an adorable baby girl.  They were living in a nice apartment.  Jim was there last month to repair their washing machine.  He saw the baby.  But she wanted to formally present her daughter to us here at Shiloh.  She never forgot us or all that we did to help her when life was so difficult.  And now she's gone.  We don't even know how it happened.  The burial is on Saturday.  We will be there.  Our hearts ache for this family who have once again lost a parent.  The only preventative measure for death's finality is to be prepared to die.  And she was.  She's at Home in Glory tonight.  We are happy for her even as we grieve.  Cameroonians never take life for granted.  They are not like us.