Once upon a time there were three brothers. The oldest brother was large and in-charge, the youngest brother loved to have fun. The middle brother was--well, he was sickly and kept to himself. Only his mother knew what a kind heart he had.
As they aged, the oldest brother scoured mountains for wildlife to hunt and fish to kill. His expeditions brought him a measure of earthly fame and acclaim. Over time he grew reckless and took many chances. After extended hospitalization, he died young.
The fun-loving brother lived for pleasure and became known for his wild exploits. Over the years, his abused body objected strenuously and struck him down three times, the third stroke bringing him low. He lives alone, a prisoner in his wheelchair, and weeps.
The middle brother lived quietly--so quietly that early-on he heard the still small voice of God gently nudging him to draw near. God lifted him up, healed him, and surrounded him with people who love him. Now everyone knows what a kind heart he has, and his mother smiles from heaven.
She smiles for all her boys because God, in his mercy and grace, extended the gift of salvation to each of them, and they accepted before it was too late.
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