Letter from Heaven

She 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 all right? When can I see him?”

The surgeon said, “I’m sorry. We did all we could, but your boy didn’t make it.”

Sally said, “Why do little children get cancer? Doesn’t God care anymore? Where were you, God, when my son needed you?”

The surgeon asked, “Would you like some time alone with your son? Sally nodded yes. “One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes, before he’s transported to the university.”

Sally asked the nurse to stay with her while she said good-bye
to son. She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair. “Would you like a lock of his hair?” the nurse asked. Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of the boy’s hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally.

Sally said, “It was Jimmy’s idea to donate his body to the university for study. He said it might help somebody else. 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 spend one more day with his Mom.’” She went on, “My Jimmy had a heart of gold. Always thinking of someone else. Always wanting to help others if he could.”

Sally walked out of Children’s Mercy Hospital for the last time, after spending most of the last six months there. She put the bag with Jimmy’s belongings on the seat beside her in the car. The drive home was difficult.

It was even harder to enter the empty house. She carried Jimmy’s belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his hair to her son’s’ room. She started placing the model cars and other personal things back in his room exactly where he had always kept them. She laid down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to sleep.

It was around midnight when Sally awoke. Laying beside her on the
bed was a folded letter. The letter 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, just ‘cause I’m not around to say I LOVE YOU. I will always love you, Mom, even more with each day. Someday we will see each other again.

Until then, if you want to adopt a little boy so you won’t be so lonely, that’s okay with me. He can have my room and old stuff to play with. But if you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn’t like the same things us boys do. You’ll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, you know. Don’t be sad thinking about me.

This really is a neat 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. The angels are so cool. I love to watch them fly.

And, you know what? Jesus doesn’t look like any of his pictures. Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him. Jesus Himself 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. That’s when I told him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you good-bye and everything. But I already knew that wasn’t allowed.

Well, you know what Mom? God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter. I think Gabriel is the name of the angel who 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, “Where was he when I needed him?” “God said, “He was in the same place with me as when His son Jesus was on the cross.” He was right there, as He always is with all His children.

Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I’ve written except you. To everyone else this is just a blank piece of paper. Isn’t that cool?

I have to give God His pen back now. He needs it to write some more names in the Book of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I’m, sure the food will be great.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I don’t hurt anymore. The cancer is all gone. I’m glad because I couldn’t stand that pain anymore and God couldn’t stand to see me hurt so much either. That’s when He sent the Angel of Mercy to come get me. The Angel said I was a special delivery! How about that?

Signed with Love from God, Jesus & Me.

— Author unknown

The Great Wall of America

I rarely comment about political issues in this journal, but I have to note my revulsion to the new “fence” on the US-Mexico border. Bush recently signed a bill for the US to start building a 700-mile “fence” along the border with an estimated cost of $2.2 billion. Descriptions of it sound vaguely like the Berlin Wall except for gun turrents and mine fields. To me, this goes completely against the ideals of freedom that America represents. I guess this is the end of the “good neighbor” policy the US had adopted in the 20th century. Maybe this “fence” will be a propaganda disaster like the Berlin Wall was for the Communists, or just maybe it will be as effective as Stalag 13.

I recently read somewhere that many Americans, a little over 50%, would be willing to trade (sacrifice) some of their liberties (freedoms) for more security (control). Many Americans forget that a fence or wall works both ways. If Americans “trade” too many of their liberties for security, I wonder if this “fence” will some day be used to keep Americans in?

Oddly enough, I can’t seem to get this one stanza from the song “Signs” by the Five Man Electric Band out of my head.

And the sign said anybody caught trespassin’
    would be shot on sight.
So I jumped on the fence and yelled at the house,
“Hey! What gives you the right?”
    To put up a fence to keep me out
    Or to keep mother nature in.
If God was here he’d tell you to your face,
Man, you’re some kinda sinner.

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind
Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?

Unfortunately, I suspect that this “fence” business will further distract the politicians and the American public from the more serious problems with the immigration laws, i.e.why does it take 8-15 years(!!!) for legal immigrants to have their paperwork finalized.

On the Twelve Apostles

“Pope Benedict recently completed a series of audiences on the Twelve Apostles,” writes Jimmy Akin. “He covers what we know about them, what is speculated about them, what their writings contain, and what their example says to us today.”

Apostles as Envoys of Christ
Profile of St. Peter
On Peter, the Apostle
Peter, the Rock
St. Andrew, the First Called
James the Greater
James the Less
John, Son of Zebedee
Apostle John, the Seer of Patmos
John, the Theologian
On St. Matthew
The Apostle Philip
The Apostle Thomas
The Apostle Bartholomew
On the Apostles Simon and Jude Thaddaeus
On Judas Iscariot and Matthias

A Halloween Joke

A man was walking home alone late one foggy night, when behind him he hears:

bump…
    Bump…
        BUMP…

Walking faster, he looks back and through the fog he makes out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street toward him.

bump…
    Bump…
        BUMP…

Terrified, the man begins to run toward his home, the casket bouncing quickly behind him…

Faster…
    FASTER…

bump…
    Bump…
        BUMP…

He runs up to his door, fumbles with his keys, opens the door, rushes in, slams and locks the door behind him!

However, the casket crashes through his door, with the lid of the casket clapping…

clappity-BUMP…
    clappity-BUMP…
        clappity-BUMP…

With the coffin on his heels, the terrified man runs upstairs to the bathroom and locks himself in. His heart is pounding; his head is reeling; his breath is coming in sobbing gasps!

Suddenly, with a loud CRASH the casket breaks down the door! Bumping and clapping toward him!

The man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is a bottle of cough syrup!

Desperate, he throws the cough syrup at the casket…

and……

The coffin stops!

Essence and Existence

I ran across an interesting line from a post by Bob Godwin the other day that seems to highlight one of the major differences, if not the difference between a person of faith and one without faith. Like so many things, it boils down to a fundamental difference in viewpoints. (Political distractions have been edited out.)

Every man is faced with two, and only two, choices that will determine everything else: essence or existence. For the religious man, essence is prior to existence and determines existence. God knew you before you were berthed and begaialed and keeps a running count of every hair on your head.

For the [man without faith], existence determines essence [, if he even acknowledges essence]. You are an accident. You have no a priori transcendent essence, but your essence is determined by accidental factors such as [genetics and environment].

This reminds me of my favorite quote by Albert Einstein:

There are two ways to live your life.
One is as though nothing is a miracle.
The other is as though everything is a miracle.

There is no in-between on this one. It is either all or none. If you believe one miracle has occurred, then eventually all criteria for distinguishing the miraculous from the non-miraculous will be found unsatisfactory and must be discarded.

Either nothing is a miracle and my existence is an accident. No need for stories, myth, religion to explain or give meaning to my life beyond what I make of it, or at least of what my community makes of it. Faith and trust are turned inward into myself and laid upon my abilities and my experiences. If my trust is extended outward, it only goes to the those nearest me. Any sense of gratitude arises from a debt owed to a benefactor, or just by being lucky. Nothing is gift.

Or everything is a miracle and my existence is purposeful. An Other purposed my life and ultimately imbues it with essence and meaning. There must exist a Creator of the miraculous. All members of my community and beyond are also miracles, and thus have purpose and meaning. Faith and trust are turned outward unto the Other. Gratitude arises from a debt to the Creator for existence. All is gift.

Either explicitly or implicitly, each person chooses essence or existence. Their choice sets their outlook on life. It governs their behavior, values, and morality, and colors their joys and sorrows. And gratitude, a key to joy, is either swallow and temporary, or deep and lasting.

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