I haven’t felt like blogging lately, but here it is, late o’clock on a Saturday night, Scott’s in bed, the dishwasher’s swishing its way through a load, and I’m lying on the couch “watching” an episode of a show called Taboo, which I’d never seen before. I’m also trying to find something to read. Shusaku Endo’s Silence just didn’t grab me, and neither did Jeffrey Ford’s stories from The Empire of Ice Cream. I guess I’ll try to write something. Oh, this episode is about the combination of Catholicism and witchcraft, and it’s set somewhere in Mexico I think. Hm, it’s kind of interesting. I like seeing the power of people’s minds, whether it’s called faith or the supernatural or psychology or quantum physics or any other term. It’s all God; we’re really all so amazing. There are millions of mysteries in our universe and beyond, and I love to explore them and sometimes experience them. I definitely would never want to go through an exorcism or become the target of black magic (or a witch hunt) or be haunted by an angry ghost, but I’m always happy to have someone pray over me, or to feel a frisson of recognition when I encounter a stranger I’ve known before, or experience a subtle intuition that bears obvious fruit. That kind of stuff is awesome.
It reminds me that when I was at the hospital visiting my mom one day I saw a father and his son, who was maybe six or seven, out in the parking lot. They jumped out at me (not literally), even though I saw them at a distance. When I got inside I strolled around the lobby a bit, went to the bathroom, then walked the long hall to the bank of elevators, and there they were again! Leaning over the short wall that overlooked the downstairs foyer, still at a distance from me, and I couldn’t get a good look at their faces. They turned to their left, away from me, and went downstairs. It felt so odd to see them again – there was just a feeling of otherworldliness about the situation – and by that time I thought that maybe I was connecting with the father somehow, who seemed to be about my age. But I forgot about it, and went on my way.
When I left my mom’s room, after having visited her for a couple of hours, and ran into them again at the end of the hall, where they were standing by the ICU and the door to the stairs, it seemed for certain-sure that something was up. But to my astonishment, it wasn’t the father I connected with at all. I never even saw his face, as he kept it pressed to the windows of the ICU doors. It was his little boy, his little six-year-old boy, who turned toward me, looked at me directly and solemnly with his big brown eyes, and opened the stairs door for me! What little kid typically does that? It was the most awesome moment–it really was. As I passed him by our gaze never broke, and as I smiled at him I wanted to say, “I know you”… I didn’t say it, but I felt I did know him, and probably have forever. Time has no boundaries to souls unleashed. It just doesn’t. It’s only when we’re in bodies that we’re limited by it.
Have you ever met someone and thought the same thing? Maybe even said to them, “I feel like I know you… have we met before?” and it wasn’t a pickup line? There are people with whom I’ve felt an instant connection; absolute strangers who’ve immediately entered my heart and stayed there, even if it was only a one-time encounter. I like to think that maybe it’s because we’ve moved through hundreds (or more) of incarnations together, having decided beforehand to do so for our mutual benefit. I can’t know that for sure, but after much contemplation it seems a logical conclusion. It makes much more sense to me than to think that God gives us only one opportunity to become all we’re capable of being. It’s so much more loving to let us have lots of chances to grow. It’s all about love.
And somehow, just now, I’m thinking that it’s wonderful that it was a father and son whom I saw at the hospital, because it’s such a traditional symbol of our relationship with God. Would a perfectly loving father give his child only one chance to become like him, to become another perfectly loving being? No, of course not. He would give him as many opportunities as were required for his transformation. That’s perfect love. That’s how I’ve been treating my kids for some time. That’s how I intend to treat the other people in my life, too. It’s a relatively new revelation for me, and I’m still working on it, but I’m confident I’ll get there.
So now this new episode is about Healers. I haven’t been watching but it looks like some old Native American guy is about to drink a glass of urine. Wow. He and Bear Grylls… who in addition to drinking all manner of bodily fluids also manages to get some degree of naked every episode, even in the middle of the Arctic winter. People are freaking fascinating, I’m serious. I love being one, though I tend to lean more toward being the non-urine-drinking variety. :) I hope you all have a great Sunday. Love! xo
*Illustration above by Nikki McClure, from the book All in a Day by Cynthia Rylant