There you are...

Wherever you go, there you are...
I'm here at the hospital, between pages. Trying to do the best I can, with my skills. Praying without ceasing. Wondering if God will let this happen, or that happen...kind of wishing He would let me in on His plans for me, but a window cracks open and then shuts itself.
Nothing, it seems, will ever be easy.  My world is spinning into new territory.  Becoming older, not willing to be used or exploited anymore...and feeling comfortable with that. I wonder if my chain in being jerked right now, not because of what is in front of me right now, but because of a memory I hold that is unpleasant. I stand here from my perspective and claim it isn't fair...but I take a few steps to the right and suddenly I see how the outrageous seems quite reasonable from this point of view. The truth is, I can't really blame anyone or declare guilt on anyone. I just have to keep stepping through the mud and push on...because, that much I know, God requires of me: To go on. 
Despite hardships or disappointments, I am called to keep moving.  Tonight, a clearly deeply loved person had to move on...to a different place...even though the many people around him wanted him to stay right here. What do we do? How do we hold on when holding on is no longer an option?  How do we keep moving forward when we have no light in front of us to guide us along the way?

Why do we continue to believe in something we do not see? Or can prove?

I stayed with a family after life support was removed. Through the tears, there were many urgings that "it was okay to go." Everyone said their goodbyes, hands were held and kissed...but the heart beat so strongly, unready to let go. Then I thought about a priest who told me about a death he witnessed, how he found what that person needed...and I thought for a minute.

Does he have a favorite song? 
A family member said no, but would you like to sing to him?

I began singing "Amazing Grace" and the whole family joined in.  The man had been declared brain dead several hours before. But with the singing, his heart rate lowered and he seemed to relax. I stopped singing...and the family continued to sing. I excused myself from the room...

In a short while, he had moved on to heaven. His family sang him into heaven. They seemed a bit more at peace, too.

Don't ever try to tell me we don't have souls, that all we are is a lump of flesh...
We are children of the Light, and when our bodies can no longer hold our light, we return to the source of all light. 

Our lives are gifts. Sometimes, I forget that, especially when I'm not getting what I think I want. But I must remember always, each day is a gift. Even the bad ones. Even the ones with disappointments.

And I pray that, when my time comes, someone will be there to sing me into heaven.

Love, Cindy