Standing at the edge of the refugee camp outside Tambo de Mora, Peru at 3:53 yesterday afternoon, chaos broke out.

One of our teams had stopped by Lourdes' house. Lourdes looked 65, but she was just 34, eaten up by stomach cancer.

Things happened in a fast stacatto way once the team entered the dark room where she lay propped up on a pillow.

Robby went to pray for her (click here for his account). She was barely breathing; her eyes blinked dully.

Lourdes' sister went to adjust her and as she did, Lourdes breathed her last.

Robby, using his nurse's training, confirmed she had just died. Her sister screamed.

I was standing outside with another sister, who, hearing the news, fainted. Adrenalin pumping, I went inside, unsure of all that was going on. My first thought was to ask Jesus to bring her back. I prayed this way as people rushed in, wailing. But God wasn't in the prayer.

Nate, Gretchen, Sarah and Richard were praying for and consoling family members. God did seem to be in those prayers. The hardest thing was watching the ten year old daughter screaming, "Mommy, Oh Mommy!" After a while, a doctor and nurse arrived to confirm death. Eduardo, the husband, was ushered in while our team prayed. We had begun the day praying that God would guide our steps, so this was an extension of that prayer.

It turns out Lourdes was a Jesus-follower, a sister ushered in to the presence of the Lord, and we had been summoned to ease her on her way and to care for those left behind.

As we bore witness to the supernatural events underway, we couldn't help sensing that the timing of our arrival on the scene was one more sign that on this day, as traumatic and riveting the events, everything was right on schedule. Last night, we praised our God a little more passionately, glad for the breath he has given us.