<TITLE>18. Par 199-206</TITLE>L-199 The little lady wouldn't wait. She wouldn't even stop, partly. She went straight to my steps, and--exhausted, and laid there. We tried to get her up. She was gone. She was still grunting, suffering so tremendously.
Mrs. Wood come up, and Mr. Wood and them, said, "Brother Branham, I believe the humane thing to do would be kill the opossum. Them poor little babies will starve." Said, "It's the only thing you could do, would do it."
Someone else come by and said, "Brother Branham, won't you kill the opossum?" Said, "Kill her. She's dying." Said, "She's laying there suffering." Said, "Take the little ones out and kill them. They'd be better off." Said, "They haven't got a soul. It's just a dumb brute, just an animal." Said, "The poor little things will starve to death. The poor mother laying there, and them little babies nursing that milk from her, and you know what condition she was in," said, "they'll die."

L-202 Said, I said, "It's true, I'm a hunter, but I'm not a killer." I said, "I love to hunt, but I don't kill just to be killing. That's a killer." That's right. I don't kill nothing that I can't eat, or something I can't make use of, or something that's destroying. Not kill to be killing, that's a murderer. Couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it.
And I knowed sensibly, in the mental realms in the right way of thinking, the humane thing would be to do, will be kill the opossum and them little ones. The opossum was dying, would never gain conscious again. And the little ones would starve to death. And drinking that old curdled milk from their mother, would probably die in misery. The best thing to do is put them out of their misery. That was the sensible thing. But something down here wouldn't let me do it.

L-204 Crowds begin to come. I had a call, went out. That night, Brother Wood and I were riding out on the road, and Sister Wood and my wife. Coming down from up around towards Scottsburg, where I was trying to get a little mental rest, Brother Wood said, "You see that little puppy back there on the road?" Said, "It's going to get run over." I whirled my car around and went back. We picked the poor little fellow up.
He was full of fleas and lice, and mange eat him up. Well, what would be the sensible thing to do? Kill him. I couldn't do it. I brought the little fellow home, got me some flea power, and sprayed him, got me some mange cure; give him a good, decent meal. Got him hid away up there, trying to get the little fellow to get well. He wants to live.

L-206 There is something about life that's real. Don't impersonate Christianity; get Life, live. Don't just have to battle yourself around, say, "Well, I'm a Christian, I oughtn't to do this; I oughtn't to do that." Live. There's One Who cares for you.
That night, at ten-thirty or eleven o'clock, that little opossum was still laying unconscious, green flies all over it, shoulder broken out, laying there suffering, dying.
Long, later, Billy come in. There laid the old opossum, laying back there, them little ones trying to nurse the little more milk from her, life coming from the mother. She was still groaning terribly. She'd try to get up, and she couldn't do it. She'd try to get up, and she couldn't do it.


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