Beyond The Grave

"Why do you seek the living among the dead?" - Luke 24:5

It caught me by surprise when, last night after dark, I received a call from Chris telling me she was going to accompany her parents to visit Teresa's grave. Nine months have passed since their 51 year old daughter and sister's death to cancer. With the exception of my father-in-law's week-long stint in the hospital himself with internal bleeding, Chris' parents have visited the grave every day religiously. They say it gets harder for them with the passing of time.

When they get to the cemetery they talk to Teresa as one would share the day's unfolding with a loved one or friend over a cup of coffee. More than a few tears are shed and, before they depart, they embrace the headstone.

November is particularly difficult for my in-laws as it was tradition for the family to gather at Teresa's to celebrate Thanksgiving. This year there will be no such family gathering nor will they journey this winter to Florida as they have over the years. "It is too soon," they say. "It just wouldn't be right."

I am sure many grieving parents find themselves going through similar motions with the approach of the holidays. I can't begin to imagine what it must be like for a parent to lose a child, however old. I consider myself blessed that, at 55, I still have my parents. I wonder, however, how long my in-laws will cling to their routine. They don't really think Teresa would have wanted them to stop living just because she lost her own battle with cancer.

Now we are surely creatures of habit and find great comfort in going through the motions of what is familiar. Growth demands however that we pause to ask the hard questions. But asking "Why" leaves us vulnerable.

Yet if any hope at all can be found in the experience of death it is that the deceased is no longer restricted by place and time. The spirit is set free, no longer bound by the body. To over identify with the grave is to doom a loved one to the same limits imposed on them in this life.

Although Teresa's body rests in that hallowed hole, her spirit won't be found there. Her spirit will be found in the things she loved to do in life, like gather with family to celebrate Thanksgiving. I believe that in my life my ancestors story continues to unfold and, long after I take my last steps on earth, my own story will continue in those I leave behind. But that story cannot continue when the grief of loved ones prevent them from living.

© Copyright 2006 gentlefootprint. All Rights Reserved.

Heaven, Fall & Endings

The other man's grass is always greener
The sun shines brighter on the other side.
- Sung by Petula Clark in 1967 -


Heaven. The Promised Land. Shangri-la. Throughout the ages human dissatisfaction with the present has stirred a longing for another place where suffering, hardship, defeat and even death are absent. Sometimes that longing becomes the only hope in an existence that seems too cruel, unfair or unbearable. Sadly it is at that point we have, in effect, estranged heaven from earth.

Apparently our space exploration has taught us nothing. There are volumes of awe-inspiring pictures taken from the heavens that capture the intimate relationship enjoyed by heaven and earth. When looking off onto the horizon, how can one not see or imagine a point where earth and heaven actually meet and touch? For me to find that point is to discover the most powerful meaning of the "present." What greater goal could there be for the spiritual journey than to find that bridge?

Seeing heaven and earth as two separate places gives rise to many errors. It leads to the demonizing of the earth and our life upon it. It leads to the overglamorization of heaven where we attribute values and experiences that ought to be sought after here on earth. And, as we witnessed just over five years ago, it permits radicalized Muslims to board planes and bring about mass death and destruction to "get to the other side."

Fall invites and sometimes even urges a reflection on endings but considering the end of anything is an uncomfortable topic of conversation for many. Yet all around us we witness an undeniable transformation. On nature's canvas the life born of spring and nurtured in summer puts on one last splendid display before it enters into its time of rest - to stand naked, silent and still. But isn't the truely miraculous point of it all that next spring the story will be retold, will unfold again, just as it has from age to age?

Nature, the seasons and the renewal of life have taught me not to fear endings at all. Of course there is grief and sadness for we are confronted with the reality that we cannot cling forever to who and what we know and have grown comfortable with. But life is like those leaves we see falling from the trees all around us. People we have grown to love and cherish and the health, success and security we have worked hard an entire lifetime to find or achieve will all eventually fall beyond our grasp as individual leafs letting go of the tree of life we have shared. As the fall and our lifetime progress, we find ourselves increasingly alone and isolated on that tree. It is spiritually imperative that we come to peace with it being alright for us to let go ourselves. Considering how resistant we are to change throughout our lives, it is no surprise whatsoever that we find that letting go so difficult.

As I reflect on heaven, I find great solace in the cyclical pattern of nature. Afterall, since we humans are also part of that nature why would we not also be subject to the pattern of renewal we see displayed before our very eyes each year? From winter's dormancy new life will sprout in the spring. How is that any different from the miracle of child bearing and birth where a new life is born of the dormancy of the womb?

That life continues beyond our death I have no doubt, but what that life may look like has been the fodder of spiritual hope and speculation from the beginning of time. No one, not even the risen Jesus, has returned from the other side to reveal what awaits us. At first that may seem curious or odd but if that picture of heaven were definitively given to us we, being the humans that we are, would either grow impatient with or intolerant of life as we now know it, or would use that image as reason to commit acts to earn or buy our way into it, or would find fault with the ways in which it might fall short of our expectations, or would be incapable of comprehending it altogether anyway.

© Copyright 2006 gentlefootprint. All Rights Reserved.