"Having a blog is like wandering around your house naked with the windows open; it's all very liberating until someone looks in the window. However, while being caught unawares is one thing, it is quite another to stroll up to the window and press your naked, flabby body against the coolness of the glass in a hideous form of vertical prostration for all the world to see..." These posts are the smudges that are left behind on the window.

Thursday, 19 July 2012

Seeing Through the Eyes of God

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.


Please feel free to leave a comment. Your comment will not show immediately as I am moderating them for now.