Saturday, September 20, 2008

The Miracle Of Truths

I can see how death could jade a person. Especially with the most unexplainable deaths, multiple deaths and the death of children.

Today was Levi's service. It was just very, very tough. He was such a joyful little guy; such a loving little guy. His death brings so many questions . . . with no answers this side of heaven.

My niece spoke at the service assuring those in attendance she will survive in the hope, the knowledge, she will see Levi again. She also assured everyone that the joy of loving Levi and having him in her life, even for such a short time, far outweighs the sorrow of losing him.

Will and I recently had the same conversation. Dr. Will and I get into philosophical discussions quite often. Will and Joe were not only brothers, they were best friends. The pain for him is so great a question occurred to me.

If he could choose, if he somehow could have made a deal with God before he was even born, would he have chosen to bypass all the sorrow with the trade of never having known Joe at all?

He didn't hesitate for an instant in his resounding, "No way!"

Like my niece, like me, Will believes it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. And having lost, I think we all appreciate what we have, when we have it, even more.

Each day, each hour with those we love becomes more precious. I find myself questioning more and more how I spend my time and with whom. I want each second to remain a miracle. I want to slow down, enjoy more.

I rarely get upset about the "small things" in life, now having a context so much greater. Spilled milk really is just spilled milk and one more bedtime story might be a memory for a lifetime. I do not believe God caused death to teach me these truths; I believe God teaches me truth out of my sorrows and pain.

Instead of becoming jaded I will use God's promises to dry my tears. I live in the knowledge my sorrow will only last a short while--I will live in the miracle of God every day.

I'll leave you with a poem by Walt Whitman:

Miracles

Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night
with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet
and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.

To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim--the rocks--the motion of the waves--the
ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?

2 comments:

sandwichinwi said...

Beautiful post, beautiful poem.

God bless,
Sandwich

Abram's Surgery said...

I am truly heartbroken to hear of the loss of Levi. You can tell from his picture that he is such a beautiful soul. Peace be with you and your family.