Several years ago a friend of mine was
diagnosed with cancer – for the second time. He had previously been married,
and in a cruel twist of timing, the day he started planning his second wedding,
he also had to start planning his funeral.
Over the course of the next five years or
so he steadily, and inevitably, declined. First getting thin from loss of appetite,
and then getting thick, but only in spots, as the evil inside him started to
show itself and take over his body.
I visited him regularly and did odd jobs
for him around the house as his ability to do those things faded like an old memory,
but sometimes we just sat and talked. Surprisingly, there was lots of laughter;
he maintained his sense of humor to the end. Eventually he asked me if I would
be co-executor with his second wife. I felt honored, so I accepted. All I would
need to do is help her out with a few things he said.
Little did I know.
During that time I was part of the
religious spectrum that believed one had to say the ‘prayer’ in order to get to
heaven. So, one day, while we were visiting, I felt I needed to do my duty. I
told him about God and how much He loved him - how it was never too late.
Despite the sun streaming into the window there was a shadow of death in the
room, and it made the whole conversation seem empty and pointless. So I hung my
head and mumbled something about, as a friend, I felt I needed to tell him
this, but I would never bring it up again - unless he wanted to. He politely
thanked me, and told me that there were other people who had told him the same
thing.
We never talked about it again.
Eventually he succumbed and, as promised,
I helped his wife with the execution of the Will. Part of his estate was
leaving a small sum of money for all his kids. His youngest daughter had
challenges. Technically it wasn’t Autism, but you could easily be forgiven for
calling it that. All the kids got their money, except the youngest, who we set
up a trust fund for.
Over time everything was taken care of
except the administration of the trust fund. And that’s when the fun started.
His first wife wanted that money for herself - and wanted it bad - but we knew
he didn’t want that.
When I was younger I would often go for a
drive if I needed to work out a problem. Driving seems to put me into a
meditative state where the possibilities are endless. One day while driving to
work, I was thinking about his ex-wife and all the problems I was having. I
must admit that some of those thoughts weren’t very Christian. I hated her: I
hated her selfishness, I hated her greed, I hated all the grief she was causing
me.
And then I felt bad.
After awhile the thought occurred to me; “I
wonder how God views her?” And then another thought; “I should ask God to show
me how he views her, maybe that would help”. So I asked God to show me how he
sees her. I expected one of two responses; either nothing at all, or some kind
of warm fuzzy glow in the middle of my chest, like a shot of Gin knocked back
too quickly.
I wasn’t prepared for what actually
happened.
My vision blurred. My nose plugged up.
Within a minute I could barely see. I just about had to pull over to the side
of the road I was crying so hard. The tears were burning rivers down my face,
and the snot in my nose couldn’t get out fast enough. I was bawling like a
schoolgirl rejected by her first boyfriend. These were tears of sadness and
love, and they were inconsolable. They were the tears a parent sheds for a
wayward child they love with every fiber of their being, and it destroys them
to see the self-destructive path they have chosen.
It was terrifying.
In retrospect I don’t know if it was God
or, as the Buddhist say, some moment of enlightenment, but it’s quite possible
I will never make that request of God again. There was something very primal
about it, yet very sacred. It was if I had stepped into an area where only God
can dwell, and where only God should dwell. I felt like I was trespassing on a
rich man’s property. I had touched the Holy and was found wanting.
I would like to say that everything worked
out with his ex-wife, but it hasn’t. However, it did make me see that I cannot
hate. But more than anything it made me see how much God, or whatever word you
chose, loves us - all of us - not just those in our tribe: a love that’s meant
to be lived through us.
