Did he know when he came down with both malaria and typhoid that these would be his final illnesses?  Did he know when he recovered from both but couldn't get his strength back that the grains in the hourglass of his life were rapidly running out?  Did he know that day when he walked into the hospital for tests to determine what (if anything) was wrong with him, why he was so weak, that he would never walk back out the door.  Did he know when the doctor ordered a battery of tests that Friday that he would be dead on Monday?  

He didn't know.  He couldn't know.  Life is fragile.  One moment you are here and the next it is all over.  We have no promise of tomorrow.  

Death is stark and real out here in Cameroon.  It is all around us.  We learned many long years ago that if we are not prepared to die, we are not prepared to live out here.  But we ARE prepared to die.  We know of a certainty that when the sun sets on our lives, the sun rises for us in Glory.

The mission community suffered a great loss on that Monday.  This one who left us so quickly had helped virtually every missionary out here in one way or another.  We will look long and hard before we find another Cameroonian so skilled, so full of integrity, so willing to help.