This I Believe

THIS I BELIEVE

Just after Christmas in 2003, I was meditating, and this thought came into my mind: “Write a poem to Dad. Tell him what you have learned from him. Do it in January.” When Dad had a heart attack on February 9, I finally began writing. Again my meditative voice said, “Finish the poem by Thursday.” I did. Dad was on oxygen, and I didn’t know if he was coming or going. Friday morning, I sat beside Dad’s bed holding his hand; his breathing was difficult. When I began reading the poem, his breathing leveled out, and he closed his eyes, listening. When I finished, he opened his eyes and turned his head toward me. “That’s far more than I deserve,” he said. He died with the poem beside him. His last words to me were, “I’ll talk with you later.”

Dad and I talk often now. He has taught me that our connection with each other goes beyond physical reality. He helped me through my mother’s death. He gently guides me in ways that were not his custom in life. It’s not at all invasive; the choice is always mine.

I was raised to believe that my purpose in life was inextricably linked to having children. I lost my only child by miscarriage. The pain of the loss was excruciating. I wondered how to live with this gracefully. Often while walking, I follow the same path to notice the changes in the season and to clear my mind. One day, I decided to imagine that the soul of every child I meet is the soul of my baby. I am their favorite grandmother. No one else knows of my private understanding, but it shapes who I am and what I do in the world.

I started an enrichment program for children. Parents lend me their children after school, and together we are learning to love life. I have other children too. They smile at me in grocery stores and tell me their deepest dreams at History Day. Eli wants to be a doctor, and he just got an after school job restoring old cars. He’s fascinated by Salvador Dali. Nate is 13 and plays the trumpet. His favorite band is the Beatles, but his all-time favorite composer is Dvorak. Way cool.

It feels ironic to me that the two souls, Mom and Dad, who formed my first understanding of the world as a fearful, restrictive, powerless place, confirmed my suspicion that I have another choice. It is my understanding that the world can function on an operating system called “Love” and that we are actually biologically wired for this.

When I function in Love, when the Spirit in me connects with that part of you, the music of our resonance is astounding. The world of my imagination is real. My faith is renewed. I know it is true that, “A candle loses nothing in lighting another candle.”