Or is that love, too? Dane has asked me to be a guest blogger in a week of people passing into their next phase of life, or as we call it, death. Our dear friend, Joan, lost her dad at the end of February. Growing up, I spent a ton of time at their house, going with their family to Lake of the Woods to fish or to visit relatives in Grafton. Elmer was my first boss at the gas station he owned in Karlstad. It was unexpected and especially tragic since her mom died only 7 months before. The funeral was last Saturday and it was good to be there to hug Joan and to celebrate Elmer's life.
This Saturday we will say good-bye to another friend. This time someone so much younger and so much before her time. Karleen was married to our friend Doug. She had a zest for life and didn't hesitate to tell you about it or show it off. Coming from a family of 13 siblings, I think you need to do something to get a little attention. Doug has been a rock throughout her illness and he will be a rock going forward for their young kids. Through it all he kept his sense of humor and his wits about him. Something I admire in people under that kind of stress.
So what happens when we die? Where do we really go? Who and what do we see there? My inate understanding has always been that we go to heaven and it's beautiful and it's peaceful and we see our loved ones and they welcome us with open arms. I still believe that, however, I also believe that we can have heaven on earth, too. I'm just beginning my journey of understanding how. Some of it may seem new age, some of it may seem wacky, but I really believe that all of it is inside us -- our love of ourselves translates into our love of God. We were born joyful and we should do all we can to be joyful throughout our lives. Joy will translate to health, wealth and peace. And, when our bodies are worn out and pass into the next phase, we will live on in joy. I still don't know what happens after that, but maybe by the time I'm ready to go, I will.
As always, remember to have fun and appreciate your life in each and every moment.
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4 comments:
When I was with my mom during her final days, Joan called me and said something that has really stuck with me. She pointed out the importance of cherishing the seemingly simple, insignificant moments we spend with each other. In the long run, we will remember them for the importance they really represented.
Since then, I have been trying to always remember the importance of gratitude, too. The lessons presented by difficult times always turn out to be so logical and simple, yet we often overlook them during the routine of daily life.
That was so eloquent and heartfelt! You perfectly put into words something that is very hard to put into words.
I’ve always had this wacky ESP thing, for lack of a better term, and it has never failed me yet in my life, so far. It is also something that I would never expect anyone else to believe or understand. Hell, I can hardly understand some of it myself. Most of the time I’m too afraid of it to even acknowledge it.
One of the ways that the ESP thing works for me is through dreams. After our friend, Dawn, died, she came to me in a dream and told me about heaven. Strangely enough, she was riding in the back of a limo. She picked me up in front of the Karlstad school, and we drove around. We talked about, what seemed, a lot of varied things.
She said that there was no way to compare how beautiful heaven was with anything on earth, and that she didn’t want to come back, even if it meant leaving us. She was very, very happy; the happiest that she had ever been. She also said that I was going to be okay. Then the limo driver said that it was time to leave, and that she couldn’t talk to me again. I didn’t want her to leave, but I was dropped off by the school, and she drove away.
She has been in many dreams even to this day, but she doesn’t say a word. She simply stands off in a corner and smiles at me. Strangely, she has aged in my dreams, but she is still stunningly beautiful and full of light.
I, too, believe that heaven is a beautiful place. This belief is guided mostly by faith, and partly because I was told by what I deem a pretty credible source. I’m not afraid to leave earth, and I’m not sad for those that leave, even when they leave very young. I’m sad for us; I’m sad for what we lose until we see them again – the wisdom, the love, the smiles, the passion, the tears, good times and bad times. It is a terrible loss, but I know that it is temporary, and I also know that the joy when we see them again will be unmatched by anything that we have ever known.
This is most certainly true. (A little joke for the ‘Lutherans’ in the house.)
you guys are so very eloquent with your thoughts and getting them across. a wise friend of mine in wyoming and i were on a long run in the mountains one day and talking about kids. he had divorced when they were fairly young and the kids and their mother had moved to another town in wyoming. mother had them in the winter during school but they spent summers with him. he said that he had always just tried to do things with them and that as they got older the things they remembered and talked about were the ski trips, the hikes, and camping trips. i've found that to be true with my own kids as well. they couldn't tell you what they got for christmas 3 months ago but they can tell us all about a certain day spent fishing and even remember some of the conversation that day or and odd thing that daughter #2 said. when we lived in nome we owned a piper cub, a small 2 place airplane. daughter #1 was not quite two at the time but still vividly remembers flying low and slow down the beach, strapped into her car seat in the back.
i guess my point is that i think you guys are right, it's the things we do and the people we do them with that are important in life.
so as i once saw on a t-shirt, when we get to the end of our lives, let us not come serenely and sedately to a stop, but come to the end in a cloud of dust and screeching brakes and say, " wow, what a ride."
Exactly, Kevin! Wow, what a ride! Isn't that perfect?
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