No, I'm not Dying Yet (I)

A Scottish bishop was hiking in the mountains of his diocese. He lost his way and nightfall caught him in a forest. After searching for hours, he finally came across the cottage of a poor family. These honest people welcomed the stranger without knowing who he was, because he was wearing a large overcoat.

The bishop himself had no idea about his hosts. Were they Catholics or Protestants? He had no clue to the answer. However, after a few moments of mutual reserve, the bishop realized that great sadness overwhelmed those poor people. Collecting his thoughts, he ventured: "You are all so kind to me, yet you all seem to be so sad."

"Alas! Yes," the mother answered immediately. She seemed to have been waiting for that question to unload her grief. "Yes, we are sad. Our old papa is about to die, right here, in the next room. And what afflicts us the most it that he claims he's not dying yet and stubbornly refuses to prepare himself for death."

"May I see him?" asked the bishop. "Yes, of course," the woman answered, with the trust that characterizes afflicted souls. Forthwith, she took her guest into the dying man's small bedroom. There, the bishop indeed did find an old man on his death bed. The man looked awfully bad, but he seemed to regain some force, when the bishop spoke to him, and firmly said: "No, I'm not dying yet." Nothing could persuade him to accept the inevitable. Indeed the old man was about to breathe his last. Death had to take but one step in order to carry him away.