Letters to the dead

I have had some old letters on my mind today.  For some reason,  I can't get them off my mind.  I discovered them years ago when I closed the estate of an aunt in Virginia.  Among the possessions were a number of daily spiritual readers.  Inside the front and back covers of the books were letters that she had written to her son who was killed in action in France on September 13, 1944.

Throughout the book are notes written in the margins.  I believe that these daily readers sustained her in the days and years after her son was killed.  She poured out her feelings and her sorrow and her faith on these pages.

I am not a fan of war.  I hope that there will not be any more wars.  I want to remember the brave people who fought for us, but also to remember the tragedies of history so as not to repeat them.  So I've copied down excerpts from her letters here to remind me of the sacrifice and the tragedy of war.

Dear Son,
It is April 28, 1945.  I am visiting in a place of beautiful lakes, stately oaks and glorious flowers of all kinds that bedeck the sidewalks and gardens. The gray moss waves in the branches of the trees and glistens like silver making a picture so real that I marvel at the power of nature and God's wisdom in creating a world so restful and artistic.  

I came here two months ago.  Like many other mothers the world over, I had received a message: "The War Department Regrets." This message changed the whole course of your life, and a world of happiness becomes sadness and grief.  How foolish to run from sorrow.  Your loss, dear son, is so much apart of me, there is no escape. 

It has been said "We die the death inherent in our lives." We get the kind of death that our nature's attract.  The brave die adventurously.  You knew no fear and loved adventure.  Your bravery was so fully proven in facing death.  

God help me to accept with uncomplaining grace my heart breaking sorrow, and to carry on until such time, when I am called to sleep the sleep from which we wake no more.  And I pray, I will be worthy of meeting you son, who did and gave so much that my remaining years be spent in a land of peace.  Until we meet my dear, rest in peace.  
Mother

Monday afternoon, October 22, 1945
Dear Son,
A lieutenant buddy of yours came to see me today.  He had just returned from France.  He was with you when you were wounded and spoke with you before you passed on. 

He said you gave your life that many men could be saved.  He pictured you as a hero, loved by all and a true friend to the end.  I was so glad that he came for it seemed like a message from the beyond saying "Mother, chin up. I won't be back, I'm just away."
God bless you, my child. 
Mother

Letter to my son May 13, 1945
A day to remember son.  It's Mother's Day.  A day of prayer of victory in Europe. Eight months ago today you gave your young life paving the way, making this victory come true. 

There will be no roses for me today.  No message resting in the scented box saying "I love you Mother" for the boy who never forgot to remember isn't here any more. 

But dear I feel you know that the memories of those days are so alive and real that I will relive them so completely, that when the sun rests tonight in the west, it will be almost as if you were here.  
Mother

April 28, 1946

Dear Son, 
Tonight it came over the radio that the war in the West was over.  You dear will never know what a battle I fought.  I have to be happy for other mothers more fortunate than I.  I went out and took a walk with the little dog.  

There came over me a peace in the thought that you when in a football game, never cared how you came out as long as your team won.  Well, your team is winning now.  You paid an awful price my dear, but knowing you as I do, I know you would not think that price too high for complete victory.  I feel you must know when your team will reach the goal line, and your spirit will be there when the score is read the world over. 
My love,
Mother

And in the overleaf of the book where she wrote these letters, here is her hope:
"If ever you are burdened down
By the loss of those you love.
Just take this book, and turn the page
Meditate and think.

The consolation you'll obtain will give you strength and peace again.
In helping others, we forget
The cross we have to bear.
And trusting God to guide our steps,
We enter heaven by prayer. "

Amen to that.

Grows me

 

It rained all night.  I would occasionally wake up to listen to it pouring off the roof of the porch.  I really like rainy days.  They make me sleepy and relaxed.  And rainy nights are made for good sleeping.  When the rain comes during the night, the sound is soothing.   It's as if the soil, the trees, the flowers, the vegetables are heaving a sigh of relief. 

I picked vegetables in the rain, and we had a feast of new potatoes, fresh basil, snap beans, and simlin squash for dinner last night.  The garden is lush this morning after the long rain.  The dogs are out chasing each other, happily barking and playing in the puddles in the paddock.

I needed the rest and my home group meeting last night.  We talked about letting go--not trying to hang on tenaciously to the past with its flaws and self-inflicted wounds.  I couldn't help but be reminded that my spiritual growth has grown stronger with its roots deepening and spreading out to keep me anchored and able to withstand the weight of living in the world.  There have been many dark days, yet ultimately I am still standing and not too bowed from my cares.  Like all the other living things, I have a passion for living.

I like the following passage from the poet and spiritual philosopher Mark Nepo:

"We start out thin and green, and each time the sky grows dark, we think we will break, but the downpour makes us grow, though never straight, always twisting for the light, and strangely, the more we reach above the earth, the deeper something in us fingers its way down, and it is this--our unseen fingers reaching for the core--that keep us from blowing away.  Now there is no more running and very little swaying, and up till now, there have been many languages, although none that could be heard, just a creak at dawn and a moan at night, and sooner or later, we are brought down. It doesn't matter how. We are undone......" from The Book of Awakening.

Eventually each of us has a dark day and a time of being undone.  It can be the death of loved ones, an illness, loss of love, any kind of unexpected change.  What I hope is that my roots are deep and firm.  And that the rainy times are gentle.  I know that the sun will eventually shine again.

Are you feeling lucky today?

I saw on the news last night that a man walking along a beach on Hilton Head Island was struck and killed by a plane that made an emergency landing on the beach.  He left behind a wife and two children. My first thought was how sad and my next thought was what crappy luck.  Here you are, walking along a beach on vacation, and the next thing, your life is ended by a plane that hits you.

I also thought about my principal from elementary school who lived on a farm.  He would walk down his long lane each day to get the newspaper. One morning he took that walk to his mailbox and was hit by a car that ran off the road.  In both these circumstances I wonder was this luck, destiny or coincidence.  If either of these people had been delayed by a minute, their lives would have been spared.  What if the man on the beach had stopped to gaze at the ocean or look at a shell?  What if my principal had stopped to look over his farm fields or gaze at a wild flower as he walked his lane that fateful day?

I have heard people say that they believe in destiny and that luck has nothing to do with it.  My father would often say, "when your number is up, then it's your time to go."  I wondered about that.  I tried to imagine God sitting with the Big Book Keeper in the sky, going over names and saying, "Well, it's time for Syd to go. His number is up."  It just didn't make much sense to me then and it still doesn't. 

Maybe luck as destiny is the reason that some people don't seem to care about how recklessly they live life. They are the roulette players in life.  Nothing matters because it is all about fate. 

I am not one who believes in destiny.  I think that I have a brain, a heart and a conscience for a reason.  I think that I have choices that can influence my lot in life.  I realize that God does have a plan.  But I don't think that plan is arbitrary and capricious.  God has me here for a reason.  If I totally believed in luck and destiny, then nothing I did would change a thing. 

I think that living life on luck would lessen my purpose here.  If it all comes down to fate, luck and destiny, then why would I even want to live a life of purpose? On the other hand, I realize that much of the control that I have is really about my choices.  I can shape what is to come by the choices that I make. I also have faith that all will be okay this day as I turn my will and my life over to my Higher Power.  The faith that I have enables me to get through many things in a day that used to cause me to stumble, feel frustrated, and thwarted by fate. 

So yes, I do feel a bit lucky today to be enjoying life and not waiting for the plane to fall from the sky.  I'm going to stop and gaze at the ocean, pick up a shell, take a walk down a long lane, and row with the team tonight without any thought of destiny and fate. I am a lucky fellow! 

Hope and Faith

If you want to build a ship, don't herd people together to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea. Antoine de Saint-Exupery


Faith is a knowledge within the heart, beyond the reach of proof. Kahlil Gibran

I received this award from cw2smom. I appreciate receiving this award about keeping the Faith and having Hope.

I appreciate being given not only the award but the hope and faith that I received in this program. Before Al-Anon, I was always directing my hope towards the alcoholic. I was hoping that she would stop drinking; I hoped that she loved me; I hoped that someday I would be happy.

I heard in Al-Anon that there was hope for me. And in working the steps, I found that Step Two opened the door to the possibility that I might be able to get restored to sanity. My insanity meant that my emotions were dictated by the alcoholic who was a barometer of what was a right or wrong response. I always felt that I gave the wrong response.

At first, I only shared the pain that was within me because that was all that I knew what to do. I somehow felt that it was okay to let down my defenses and finally admit what a mess I was. If you looked in my eyes at those early meetings, I think that you would have seen emptiness.

At the meetings, I heard that there was HOPE which also means that when we can Help Ourselves Purge the Emptiness, then this program is working. I didn't need to give up hope, in fact I found much more hope than I had ever imagined.

Faith was something that took a little more time. I've come to learn that faith is a feeling that doesn't rest on logical proof or evidence. I have faith in a Higher Power, but I can't prove that Higher Power exists. I believe it though.

I found that in the Third and Eleventh Steps I could look back at my life and see the many ways that my Higher Power has acted on my behalf and walked beside me through many difficult times. I may not have seen or understood the guidance that I received at that time but eventually I developed faith in a Power greater than myself.

I have learned that my Higher Power can—and will—do for me what I cannot do for myself. I know with certainty that my Higher Power is working in my life. All I have to do is to accept things and people as they are. I do not have to stop questioning and trying to understand. Instead, I have come to realize that by doing those things, I am developing a stronger faith.

I have come to know myself better, and it is my ever deepening faith that allows me to be comfortable in my own skin, to show honest compassion, and to be of service.