Equipping With a Cure
by John C. Maxwell It began as headache, and quickly overtook her with fever. She was confined to bed-too weak to speak and barely able to lift a finger. Then red bumps popped up on her mouth and tongue: telltale signs of the deadly disease sweeping the continent. She despaired for her life as the bumps swelled into sores and then blistered open, leaking pus into her mouth and down her throat. With alarming speed, a rash flared up on her face, crept down her arms, and covered her body in pimples. When awake, the minutes dragged by slowly, and she wondered if each hour was her last. At night, her fitful sleep was tormented by nightmares. Anytime her caretakers dared to come near her, they murmured amongst themselves in hushed, worried tones. About a week-and-a-half after appearing, the boils on her skin crusted over with blood-red scabs, and the fever subsided. She was well enough to talk with her physician who assured her the worst of the sickness had passed. While grateful that death ...