Bear in mind, folks have shared odes, tributes and stories which may have circulated via e-mail and generally online, some recently and others for a long time not always identifying the author, like the one I read at her funeral, handed to me minutes before delivered it from the lectern. These verses are still around because they have helped so many through difficult times and continue to help still more. One such story I have seen in my in-box for years many times comes to mind as I struggle with more questions than answers in my various stages of grief.
I believe this is called, Two Travelling Angels but I'm not sure. I have no idea who wrote it but draw great comfort from it and hope you do too.
Two traveling angels stopped to spend the night
in the home of a wealthy family.
The family was rude and refused to let the angels
stay in the mansion's guest room.
Instead the angels were given a small space in
the cold basement.
As they made their bed on the hard floor, the
older angel saw a hole in the wall and repaired it.
When the younger angel asked why, the older angel replied,
"Things aren't always what they seem."
The next night the pair came to rest at the house
of a very poor, but very hospitable farmer and his wife.
After sharing what little food they had the couple
let the angels sleep in their bed where they could
have a good night's rest.
When the sun came up the next morning the angels
found the farmer and his wife in tears.
Their only cow, whose milk had been their sole
income, lay dead in the field.
The younger angel was infuriated and asked the
older angel how could you have let this happen?
The first man had everything, yet you helped him, she accused.
The second family had little but was willing to
share everything, and you let the cow die.
"Things aren't always what they seem," the older angel replied.
"When we stayed in the basement of the mansion, I
noticed there was gold stored in that hole in the wall.
Since the owner was so obsessed with greed
and unwilling to share his good fortune, I sealed the wall so he wouldn't find it."
"Then last night as we slept in the farmers bed,
the angel of death came for his wife. I gave him the cow instead.
Things aren't always what they seem."
in the home of a wealthy family.
The family was rude and refused to let the angels
stay in the mansion's guest room.
Instead the angels were given a small space in
the cold basement.
As they made their bed on the hard floor, the
older angel saw a hole in the wall and repaired it.
When the younger angel asked why, the older angel replied,
"Things aren't always what they seem."
The next night the pair came to rest at the house
of a very poor, but very hospitable farmer and his wife.
After sharing what little food they had the couple
let the angels sleep in their bed where they could
have a good night's rest.
When the sun came up the next morning the angels
found the farmer and his wife in tears.
Their only cow, whose milk had been their sole
income, lay dead in the field.
The younger angel was infuriated and asked the
older angel how could you have let this happen?
The first man had everything, yet you helped him, she accused.
The second family had little but was willing to
share everything, and you let the cow die.
"Things aren't always what they seem," the older angel replied.
"When we stayed in the basement of the mansion, I
noticed there was gold stored in that hole in the wall.
Since the owner was so obsessed with greed
and unwilling to share his good fortune, I sealed the wall so he wouldn't find it."
"Then last night as we slept in the farmers bed,
the angel of death came for his wife. I gave him the cow instead.
Things aren't always what they seem."
To quote the great author, Toni Morrison, who lost a son this past December, "I expect to be sad for the rest of my days. I am not looking to move on. I am not looking for closure. That would dishonour my son's memory". She said she has things that are hers. She has her writing. These are places where you can keep going, keep living your life, as I interpret it. She advised that we should find something that is our "sacred place, it may be gardening", and that for her it's her writing. I feel the same way as Ms. Morrison that my writing is my sacred place. It is where I can express myself without interruption or wondering if someone is "getting" what I'm saying. It's just for me to heal and hopefully inspire those who may stumble upon my words. For this sacred place, I am truly grateful.
I did not know that my sweet Nixie's exit from this road we began travelling together was coming so soon, but I do know I have to keep going to fulfill the divine plan we co-created previous to coming here, without GPS, and trust that things may not always be what they seem, but that I don't always have to understand. April 25th, 2011 when I had to say farewell to my sweet godchild was the saddest day of my life to date. I expect to be sad every moment that I think of her because I have loved her and been loved by her. Our souls journey has been written. I just need to continue along the route and watch for the signs which will show me my lane until we meet again.
Until next time, tell someone you love them.
Aunty B
No comments:
Post a Comment