Three Pictures Concerning Death
There was a very large branch just outside her window. And on that branch sat a beautiful bird that sang a most lovely song every morning. She found herself looking forward to the song each day and would leave her window open, even on chilly evenings, for fear that she might miss the song. At the end of a spring and summer of warm friendship with her daily chorister, she awoke one morning with a start and realized her companion was no longer there. She realized what she had known all along - that birds must go at their appointed time and that there is no negotiation based on how much the song means or how much you wish that it would be there forever. Life is, of course, like that. Those dearest to us give us music that we come to love and even depend upon. And, at their appointed time, they must go away from us. But her bird returned to her branch the following spring to her great joy, and their relationship continued. And we can expect our own joyful reunion when our eternal spring follows the fallen leaves of our current earth journey.
"There's No Place Like Home,Toto!"
There is a big bird trying to fly over the rainbow! And the rainbow seems too high as the bird flies harder and faster to get above the colored rays before it fades from view. And as the first brightness of the rainbow threatens to give way to the sunset, the great bird gently floats above the highest color band. Another bird asks, "Why did you work so bard to get above a thing that fades away in such a short time?" "Because it is not the length of time alone that gives value but the beauty itself, my friend. Those few moments when I crossed above the rainbow they were worth the effort. To see that beauty from above is next to dying". "What a strange comparison. Isn't death something to be feared?"
"No, my friend, life is beautiful, but when you die you fly into an eternal experience more beautiful than anything ever seen on earth, more beautiful than any rainbow, and it is like going home after being away for a very long time!"
Flowers for God
In the heat of a night of distrust an ancient old gentleman bears his soul to the darkened corner of his room.
What else can be do? He has no other person who will hear his soul's deep questioning - or so he believes.
But that is not true, for when all others fail, by intention or lack of it, to hear your deepest cry - you can know that your Higher Self - some say God, is listening there as a
mother hen with her biddies.
Know this for sure! No one goes out of the sight - the mother/father sight, not the spy/judge sight - of God for one instant.
And no one is ever out of "hearing distance" for this loving God to hear the softest whisper of fear,joy, sorrow, or thanksgiving.
And so this ancient gentleman bears his soul to the darkened corner of his room - his lonely room.
His memories flood over him with ghost - like presence.
Those he has wronged point their fingers of condemnation. And those he has failed look upon him with disappointment that kills his very soul - or would if souls could be killed.
And those who had hoped great things for him in his youth have hanging heads of dreaded disillusion as they view his actual achievement - or lack of it.
But God truly sees only His child, His dear beloved child. Not because "Love is blind" or because God just refuses to see the hurtful truth. it is because God truly sees things as they
really are. All that we typically see as failure, sin, or losing, God sees as a non - thing, an illusion that struts its way across our sight for a moment as though it had substance
but actually means no more than a whif of cloud in the wide sky or a momentary thought in the wide eyed mind of a child dreaming dreams.
God sees us as we really are. People are God's experimenters who are sent to earth on loving missions of gathering bouquets of experience for God's banquet table. These flowers his
experimenters pick are of all hues and shapes and sizes, which men call good, bad, sad, happy, and all manner of variations in between. But God sees them all as
beautiful and all as part of the landscape of life.
Nor does God bless some for bringing only bouquets of the good or look with disfavor on others who bring those of bad.
For God thanks us all with His love, for we all do well who come and live and die.
For being born is simply coming to gardens that God has provided, and living is the picking of the flowers we choose, and dying is the going home with our bouquets raised in the proud
offering to our very pleased parent who sent us on our mission.
Be not discouraged ancient gentleman - for your darkened, silent room is only the moment before you take your own bouquet home and hear the joyful and loving acceptance of your offering by your very proud and grateful Father!