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DEATH, DYING & REINCARNATION

The story of 78-year old terminally ill Eli Khan makes the point. His last request to his hospital doctors was to be allowed to die with dignity, not like the man in the next bed who had "tubes sticking out all over." He did not want his children to remember him that way. His doctors promised to honor his last wish but when the time came they could not resist the temptation to start intensive care which involved intravenous feeding and intuiation to a respirator. Later that night Khan awoke, reached out and switched off his respirator. When his doctors went to see him again he was dead. On the bedside table was a note, scrawled in his uneven hand: "Death is not the enemy, Doctor. Inhumanity is."

DEATH, DYING & REINCARNATION

I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am a diamond glint on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle Autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight
I am the soft star shine at night
Do not stand by my grave and cry
I am not there.... I did not die

DEATH, DYING & REINCARNATION

RUDY'S ANGEL

I walked into the grocery store not particularly interested in buying groceries. I wasn't hungry. The pain of losing my husband of 37 years was still too raw. And this grocery store held so many sweet memories.
Rudy often came with me and almost every time he'd pretend to go off and look for something special. I knew what he was up to. I'd always spot him walking down the aisle with the three yellow roses in his hands.  Rudy knew I loved yellow roses.
With a heart filled with grief, I only wanted to  buy my few items and leave, but even grocery shopping was different since Rudy had passed on.
Shopping for one took time, a little more thought than it had for two. Standing by the meat, I searched for the perfect small steak and remembered how Rudy had loved his steak.

DEATH, DYING & REINCARNATION

RUDY'S ANGEL

I walked into the grocery store not particularly interested in buying groceries. I wasn't hungry. The pain of losing my husband of 37 years was still too raw. And this grocery store held so many sweet memories. 

Rudy often came with me and almost every time he'd pretend to go off and look for something special. I knew what he was up to. I'd always spot him walking down the aisle with the three yellow roses in his hands.  Rudy knew I loved yellow roses.

With a heart filled with grief, I only wanted to  buy my few items and leave, but even grocery shopping was different since Rudy had passed on.

Shopping for one took time, a little more thought than it had for two. Standing by the meat, I searched for the perfect small steak and remembered how Rudy had loved his steak.Suddenly a woman came beside me.  She was blond, slim and lovely in a soft green pantsuit. I watched as she picked up a large pack of T-bones, dropped them in her basket, hesitated, and then put them back. She turned to go and once again reached for the pack of steaks. She saw me watching her and she smiled.  "My husband loves T-bones, but honestly, at these prices, I don't know."
I swallowed the emotion down my throat and met her pale blue eyes. "My husband passed away eight days ago," I told her. Glancing at the package in her hands, I fought to control the tremble in my voice.

"Buy him the steaks. And cherish every moment you have together."
She shook her head and I saw the emotion in her eyes as she placed the package in her basket and wheeled away.  I turned and pushed my cart across the length of the store to the dairy products.

There I stood, trying to decide which size milk I should buy. A quart, I finally decided and moved on to the ice cream section near the front of the   store. If nothing else, I could always fix myself an ice cream cone. I placed the ice cream in my cart and looked down the aisle toward the front. I saw first the green suit, then recognized the pretty lady coming towards me. In her arms she carried a package. On her face was the brightest smile I had ever seen. I would swear a soft halo encircled her blond hair as she kept walking toward me, her eyes holding mine. As she came closer, I saw what she held and tears began misting in my eyes.

DEATH, DYING & REINCARNATION

Illumined spiritual teachers die of heart disease and cancer just like the rest of us, while cantankerous pessimists who smoke cigarettes and eat lots of hamburgers sometimes live to be a hundred. And all of us, no matter how many bean sprouts we eat, miles we run, affirmations we say, hours we meditate, and hard we pray, are all going to die sometime.  The question is not whether we will die, but how we will live.
Joan Borysenko, Ph.D., Guilt is the Teacher, Love is the Lesson

DEATH, DYING & REINCARNATION

These bodies are perishable; but the dwellers in these bodies are eternal, indestructible and impenetrable.

The Bhagavad Gita, Book of Daily Thoughts and Prayers

DEATH, DYING & REINCARNATION

On July 22nd I was enroute to Washington, DC for a business trip.  It was all so very ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a plane change. As I collected my belongings from the overhead bin, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Service Representative immediately.  I thought nothing of it until I reached the door to leave the plane, and I heard a gentleman asking every male if they were Mr. Glenn.

At this point I knew something was wrong and my heart sunk.  When I got off the plane a solemn-faced young man came toward me and said, "Mr. Glenn, there is an emergency at your home.  I do not know what the emergency is, or who is involved, but I will take you to the phone so you can call the hospital.  My heart was now pounding, but the will to be calm took over.
Woodenly, I followed this stranger to the distant telephone where I called the number he gave me for the Mission Hospital.  My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my three-year-old son had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door for several minutes, and that when my wife had found him he was dead.  CPR had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the paramedics had continued the treatment as Brian was transported to the hospital.  By the time of my call, Brian was revived and they believed
he would live, but they did not know how much damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart.  They explained that the door had completely closed on his little sternum right over his heart.  He had been severely crushed.

After speaking with the medical staff, my wife sounded worried but not hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness. The return flight seemed to last forever, but finally I arrived at the hospital six hours after the garage door had come down.   When I walked into the intensive care unit, nothing could have prepared me to see my little son laying so still on a great big bed with tubes and monitors  everywhere.   He was on a respirator.  I glanced at my wife who stood and tried to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed like a terrible dream.

I was filled-in with the details and given a guarded prognosis.  Brian was going to live, and the preliminary tests indicated that his heart was OK, two miracles in and of themselves.  But only time would tell if his brain received any damage. Throughout the seemingly endless hours, my wife was calm.  She
felt that Brian would eventually be all right. I hung on to her words
and faith like a lifeline.  All that night and the next day Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like forever since I had left for my business trip the day before. Finally at two o'clock that afternoon, our son regained consciousness  and sat up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever   heard spoken.  He said, "Daddy hold me" and he reached for me with his little arms. By the next day he was pronounced as having no neurological or physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread throughout the hospital. You cannot imagine our gratitude and joy.  As we took Brian home, we felt a unique reverence for the life and love of our Heavenly Father that comes to those who brush death so closely. In the days that followed there was a special spirit about our home.  Our two older children were much closer to their little brother.  My wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were very close as a whole family.  Life took on a less stressful pace.  Perspective seemed to be more focused, and balance much easier to gain and maintain.  We felt deeply blessed. Our gratitude was truly profound.

The story is not over (smile)!

Almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian awoke from his afternoon nap and said, "Sit down mommy. I have something to tell you.  At this time in his life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large sentence surprised my wife.  She sat down with him on his bed, and he began his sacred and remarkable story.

"Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door?  Well, it was so heavy and it hurt really bad.  I called to you, but you couldn't hear me.  I started to cry, but then it hurt too bad.  And then the 'birdies' came." 

 "The birdies?" my wife asked puzzled.

"Yes," he replied. "The birdies made a whooshing sound and flew into the garage. They took care of me." 

"They did?" 

9/22/00

This 85 year old couple, having been married almost 60 years, had died in a  car crash. They had been in good health the last ten years, mainly due to her interest in health food, and exercise.

When they reached the pearly gates, St. Peter took them to their mansion which  was decked out with a beautiful kitchen and master bath suite and Jacuzzi. As they "oohed and aahed" the old man asked Peter how much all this was going to cost. "It's free," Peter replied, "this is Heaven."

Next they went out back to see the championship golf course that the home backed up to.  They would have golfing privileges everyday and each week the course changed to a new one representing the great golf courses on earth. The old man asked, "What are the green fees?" Peter's reply, "This is
heaven, you  play for free."

Next they went to the club house and saw the lavish buffet lunch with the cuisines of the world laid out.  "How much to eat?" asked the old man. "Don't you understand yet? This is heaven, it is free!" Peter replied.  "Well, where  are the low fat and low cholesterol foods?" the old man asked timidly.
"That's the best part...you can eat as much as you like of whatever you like and you never get fat and you never get sick. This is Heaven."

 Sally jumped up as soon as she saw the Surgeon come out of the operating room. She said: "How is my little boy? Is he going to be OK.? When can I
see him?"

 The Surgeon said, "I'm sorry, we did all we could."

 Sally said, "Why do little children get cancer, doesn't GOD care any more? GOD, where were you when my son needed you?"

 The Surgeon said, "One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes to let you spend time with your son's remains before it's transported to the university."

 Sally asked that the nurse stay with her while she said good-bye to her son.

  Sally ran her  fingers through his thick red curly hair. The nurse said, "Would you like a lock of his hair?" Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock  of his hair and put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally.

 Sally said, "It was Jimmy's idea to give his body to the university for study. He said it might help somebody else, and that is what he wanted. I
 said, No at first, but Jimmy said, 'Mom I won't be using it after I die, maybe it will help some other little boy to be able to spend one more day
 with his mother.' "

 Sally said, "My Jimmy had a heart of Gold, always thinking of someone else and always wanting to help others if he could."  Sally walked out of the
 Children's Hospital for the last time now after spending most of the last 6 months there. She sat the bag with Jimmy's things in it on the seat beside
 of her in the car. The drive home was hard and it was even harder to go into an empty house.  She took the bag to Jimmy's room and started placing the model cars and things back in his room exactly where he always kept them.

 She laid down across his bed and cried herself to sleep holding his pillow.  Sally woke up about midnight and laying beside her on the bed, was a letter folded up. She opened the letter, it said:

 Dear Mom,
        I know you're going to miss me, but don't think that I will ever forget you or stop loving you because I'm not around to say I LOVE YOU.

       I'll think of you every day Mom and I'll love you even more each day.

        Some day we will see each other again. If you want to adopt a little boy so you won't be so lonely, he can have my room and my old stuff to play with. If you  decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn't like the same things as us boys do, so you will have to buy her dolls and stuff girls  like.

       Don't be sad when you think about me, this is really a great place.

 Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything here. The angels are so
 friendly, and I love to watch them fly. Jesus doesn't look like any of the pictures I saw of Him, but I knew it was Him as soon as I saw Him.

        Jesus took me to see GOD!  And  guess what mom? I got to sit on GOD'S knee and talk to Him like I was somebody important. I told GOD that I wanted to write you a letter and tell you good-bye and everything, but I knew that wasn't allowed. God handed me some paper and His own personal pen  to write you this letter with. I think Gabriel is the name of the angel that is
going to drop this letter off to you.

        God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked  Him about... Where was He when I needed him? God said, The same place He
was when Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children.

Forgiveness, Letting Go, Non-Resistance

Often we have no time for our friends but all the time in the world for our enemies.

Forgiveness, Letting Go, Non-Resistance

A party of hunters, being called away from their camp, left their campfire unattended, with a kettle of water boiling on it. Presently an old bear crept out of the woods, and, seeing the kettle with its lid dancing on top, promptly seized it. The boiling water scalded him badly; but instead of dropping the kettle instantly, he proceeded to hug it tightly this being the bear's idea of defense. Of course, the tighter he hugged it the more it burned him; and the more it burned him the tighter he hugged it; and so on in a vicious circle. This beautifully illustrates the way in which many of us hug our difficulties to our chests by constantly rehearsing them.

Forgiveness, Letting Go, Non-Resistance

Recently, a frail black woman rose slowly to her feet in a
 South African courtroom. She was 70-something, the years
 deeply etched on her face.

 Facing her from across the room were several white
 security police officers. One, a Mr. van der Broek, had
 just been found guilty of murdering the woman's son
 and her husband.

 The man had come to the woman's home a number of
 years earlier. He had taken her son, shot him at point
 blank range, and then burned his body while he and
 some other officers reveled in the act.

 Several years later, van der Broek had returned to take
 away her husband as well. For two years, she could
 learn nothing of what happened to him. Then, Van der
 Broek came back for the woman herself. She was led
 to a place beside a river. There, she saw her husband
 bound and beaten, lying on a pile of wood. The last
 words she heard from his lips as the officers poured
 gasoline over his body and set him aflame were, "Father,
 forgive them."

 But not long ago, justice caught up with Mr. Van der Broek.
 He had been found guilty, and it was time to determine his
 sentence. And as the woman stood, the presiding official
 of the court asked, "So, what do you want? How should
 justice be done to this man who has so brutally destroyed
 your family?"

 In reply, the woman said, "I want three things. I want first
 to be taken to the place where my husband's body was
 burned so that I can gather up the dust and give his remains
 a decent burial." She pauses, then continues. "My husband
 and son were my only family. I want, secondly, therefore,
 for Mr. van der Broek to become my son. I would like for
 him to come twice a month to the ghetto and spend a day
 with me so that I can pour out on him whatever love I still
 have remaining within me."

 "And, finally," she says, "I want a third thing. I would like
 Mr. Van der Broek to know that I offer him my forgiveness
 because Jesus Christ died to forgive. This was also the
 wish of my husband. And so, I would kindly ask someone
 to come to my side and lead me across the courtroom
 so that I can take Mr. van der Broek in my arms, embrace
 him and let him know that he is truly forgiven."

 As the court assistants led the elderly woman across the
 courtroom, Mr. van der Broek, overwhelmed by what he
 heard, fainted. Then quietly, from those in the courtroom,
 friends, family, and neighbors  - all victims of similar
 oppression and injustice - began to sing "Amazing grace,
 how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once
 was blind, but now I see."

Forgiveness, Letting Go, Non-Resistance

It is easy enough to be friendly to one's friends. But to befriend the one who regards himself as your enemy is the quintessence of true religion. The other is mere business.

Mohandas K. Gandhi, Non-violence in Peace and War, V.2,ch.248

From Barbara Cleavenger

Forgiveness, Letting Go, Non-Resistance

Forgiveness creates a shift in perception that permits us to see our mistake as an opportunity to learn rather than as proof of how "bad" we are.

Joan Borysenko, Ph.D., Guilt is the Teacher, Love is the Lesson

Letting Go

Let Go, Let God

As children bring their broken toys
With tears for us to mend,
I brought my broken dreams to God
Because God was my friend.

But then, instead of leaving God
In peace to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help
With ways that were my own.

At last I snatched them back and cried,
"How can you be so slow?"
"My child," God said, "what could I do?
You never did let go."

Author Unknown

From Barbara Clevenger

TODAY: Letting the Past Be Past
Is it difficult for you to forgive? To let the past be past? It
is for me. Nearly impossible sometimes. I'm a little like the
elderly Virginian woman who lived to see her beloved Richmond
occupied by Union troops after the American Civil War. The matron
was walking down a Richmond street when she tripped over a step
and fell. A Union soldier courteously helped her up.
"How very kind of you, young man," she said acidly. "If there is
a cool spot in hell, I hope you get it."
Maybe it was still a bit early for her to let go of those
deep-seated resentments. But angry and bitter lives are never
happy lives.
We are told that in the Babemba tribe of South Africa, when a
person acts irresponsibly or unjustly, he/she is taken to the
center of the village. All work ceases and every man, woman and
child in the village gathers in a large circle around the
accused. Then the tribe bombards the rejected person with
affirmations! One at a time, friends and family enumerate all the
good the individual has done. Every incident, every experience
that can be recalled with some detail and accuracy is recounted.
All their positive attributes, strengths and kindnesses are
recited carefully and at length. Finally, the tribal circle is
broken, a joyous celebration takes place, and the outcast is
welcomed back into the tribe.
What a beautiful ritual of restoration! They replace hurt with
happiness; pain with peace. Once again they are family. The
rejected one is restored and the village is made whole.
Paul Boese has said, "Forgiveness does not change the past,
ut it does enlarge the future." As brothers and sisters in our
global village, is letting go of those resentments really an
option?

Forgiveness, Letting Go, Non-Resistance

One of my teachers had each one of us bring a clear plastic bag and a sack of potatoes. For every person we'd refuse to forgive in our life experience, we were told to choose a potato, write on it the name and date, and put it in the plastic bag. Some of our bags, as you can imagine, were quite heavy.      

We were then told to carry this bag with us everywhere for one
week, putting it beside our bed at night, on the car seat when
driving, next to our desk at work. The hassle of lugging this around with us made it clear what a weight we were carrying spiritually, and how we had to pay attention to it all the time to not forget, and keep leaving it in embarrassing places.

Naturally, the condition of the potatoes deteriorated to a nasty
slime. This was a great metaphor for the price we pay for keeping our pain and heavy negativity! Too often we think of forgiveness as a gift to the other person, and it clearly is for ourselves!!

Forgiveness, Letting Go, Non-Resistance

God's boxes

Forgiveness, Letting Go, Non-Resistance

Once upon a time two brothers who lived on adjoining farms fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side by side, sharing machinery, and trading labor and goods as needed without a hitch.

Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small
misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference, and finally it exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence.

One morning there was a knock on John's door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter's toolbox. "I'm looking for a few days work" he said. "Perhaps you would have a few small jobs here and there. Could I help you?"

"Yes," said the older brother. "I do have a job for you. Look across the creek at that farm. That's my neighbor, in fact, it's my younger brother."

Last week there was a meadow between us and he took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek between us. Well, he may have done this to spite me, but I'll go him one better. See that pile of lumber curing by the barn? I want you to build me a fence -- an 8-foot fence -- so I won't need to see his place anymore. Cool him down, anyhow." The carpenter said, "I think I understand the situation. Show me the nails sand the post-hole digger and I'll be able to do a job that pleases you."

The older brother had to go to town for supplies, so he helped the carpenter get the materials ready and then he was off for the day.

The carpenter worked hard all that day measuring, sawing, nailing. About sunset when the farmer returned, the carpenter had just finished his job. The farmer's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped.

There was no fence there at all. It was a bridge -- a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other! A fine piece of work -- handrails and all -- and the neighbor, his younger brother, was coming across, his hand outstretched.

"You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I've said and
done." The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge, and then they met in the middle, taking each other's hand. They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox on his shoulder. "No, wait! Stay a few days. I've a lot of other projects for you," said the older brother.

"I'd love to stay on," the carpenter said, "but, I have many more bridges to build."