Throughout May and June that year, Alan spent more days at the hospital then he did at home. Then one day, the doctors called our whole family in. They told us that Alan only had six or seven weeks left to live.

So we brought him home. It’s what he wanted—what we all wanted. Our family spent as much time with him as we could during those first four weeks. But then his health took a turn for the worst.

It was bad. Really bad. Alan and I would lay in bed together and play our song “Heaven must be beautiful.” We played that song over and over again. During those moments, you tend to think more about Heaven.

Our last morning together, I woke up long before the sunrise. I turned to my husband and saw that his chest was barely moving. The Lord told me it was time to let him go. Alone I walked around my house, unable to sleep. Then my daughter walked in, tears streaming down her face, and she said, “Mom, it’s time.”

I looked at her and said, “I know.” Our whole family spent those precious last hours gathered around his bed. Moments before he passed on to Heaven, my daughter said, “Play that song.”

We held his hands and played our song. Peace fell across his face. I will never forget that song. Sandra’s song touched us both during a time of pain and sorrow. When Sandra sang it at his graveside, several people came up to me and said, “That song was perfect. Where did you find it?”

The truth is that Sandra gave it to us, but God gave it to her. Sandra’s music and everything she does has been such a blessing to my family and to me. Her ministry reaches so many people, and I know that God will use her songs to bless many more.

Sometimes we just need good, old-fashioned scripture songs—ones that are born out of heartache and sorrow but that speak of true and lasting peace. Songs that remind us that Heaven really must be beautiful. – Patty