Ginger was six years old when she and her Sunday school class made get well cards for church members.  Hers was a bright purple card that said, “I love you, but most of all God loves you!”  She and her mom made the delivery. My dad was bedfast, the end was near.  He could extend his hand, but it was bent to a claw from disease.  Ginger asked him a question as only a six-year-old can,  “Are you going to die?”  “Yes. When, I don’t know.”  She asked if he was afraid to go away.  “Away is heaven,” he told her.  “I’ll be with my Father.  … Listen Now