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Is It My Turn, Grandpa?
by Anne |
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Not long ago a mother wrote to me about her son, his death
and then the uplifting and wondrous moment when she saw
him again. Her son, Brady lived ten weeks. He lived strictly
in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) of a local hospital.
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His mother says, "The only time I was ever able to buy
clothes for him to wear were the clothes I buried him in.
Although I was able to hold him when I visited the hospital
most of the time, he never came home with me from the
hospital."
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Had he lived Brady would have been 13 in February of 2000.
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Little Brady made a profound difference in his mom's life.
She tells us here about the vision she had of both her son
and her father shortly after her father's death.
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"Although I didn't hear Brady (my son) speak to me, when
my father passed away in 1998 as we were in his room just
as he passed away I closed my eyes to pray and at that time
a very vivid vision came to me. In the vision, Brady stood on
the other side of a gate as if waiting for my dad. In his hands
he held a fishing pole and on the ground beside him was a
small bucket which I'm certain had worms. As my dad
passed through the gate he was the man I remember,
healthy. He took Brady's fishing pole and bucket in one hand
and in the other he held Brady's hand as they walked down
the street. Brady was jumping up and down with excitement
and looked up at his grandfather and said, "It's my turn to go
fishing with you now papa?"
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My dad smiled down at Brady and said, "It's your turn,
squirt."
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I've never had the vision again and every time I think of it I
cry. Not so much tears of sadness but tears of joy to see
those I love together and healthy. The only regret I have in
my vision is that Brady never turned around and waved at
me. "
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He Sat On My Bed
by Cindie |
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I was born and raised in British Columbia, Canada, and
moved to California when I was in my twenties. Growing up
in BC was wonderful and life wouldn't have been as great if
it weren't for my best friend, Annie. Through Annie I had met
her cousin Brad who I saw intermittently throughout the
years because he lived about 500 miles away in Williams
Lake. For several years I had a crush on Brad. He had
piercing blue eyes that would just make you melt. Brad was
always the dare devil, wild and unruly. Brad's philosophy
was that if he lived past the age of 20 he would be living on
borrowed time.
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In the summer of 1985 Annie and I had gone to visit her
family in Williams Lake. A bunch of us had gotten together
and were having a party. Brad was there and had expressed
to me something that I had been longing for. He had
feelings for me. I was thrilled. What a magical night that
was. The memory of it is still so vivid in mind. After that night
I knew that I was in love. I don't know if he felt the same way
but I was young and my heart was way ahead my head. I
couldn't wait to see him again.
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Annie and I had been staying at her brother's place and after
a few days had passed, there was a phone call. Brad, at the
age of 24, had an accident on his motorcycle and was in the
hospital with permanent brain damage. The family went to
the hospital, I was not allowed to see him being that I wasn't
family and after several hours on life support his family
made the decision to allow him to die.
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I was crushed and couldn't believe or understand what had
just happened. I did a lot of blaming and I especially blamed
one individual for his death. I blamed our Heavenly Father. I
thought I had found my true love and God had taken him
away from me. I have since repented for this but at the time I
was consumed with this feeling of hatred and a need to
point the finger. Instead of listening to what God was trying
to tell me, I turned my back on him.
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Though Brad was dead I couldn't stop missing him, I
couldn't stop thinking of him. I thought of all that could have
been and was now not to be because the man I loved was
dead. About a month and a half had passed and I was still
quite upset over Brad's death. I tried to get over Brad but
found that my thoughts continually turned to him.
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A good friend of mine from the Island had come to visit. His
name was Darrell. He was a great friend and always
wanted more then just friendship but I was afraid. We had a
great time together on that particular Saturday and since it
was a long drive back to the ferry and then home, he stayed
the night in our guest room in the basement of our 3 storey
home.
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That night I tossed and turned in my bed. Once again,
consumed with thoughts of how my life would have been
had Brad not died. I had turned over onto my right side and I
opened my eyes to see Darrell sitting on my bed leaning
against the headboard with his arms crossed and his legs
extended and crossed at the ankles. He had this stupid grin
on his face. I immediately sat up and told Darrell that he
needed to go back to his room. It was dark and when Darrell
didn't move or say anything I took a closer look and realized
that it wasn't Darrell at all. This man looked an awful lot like
Brad. I said "Brad?" and he nodded. I started to cry and
reached out for him but he was gone.
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I sat and cried for a while and realized that he hadn't come
to taunt me or "haunt" me but let me know that he was okay
and that I should let go of what was inside of me. The visit
was so brief but felt like it lasted an eternity. I don't know
how it works in heaven but I like to imagine that God allowed
Brad to come visit me to release me of my anger and pain to
once again get on with life as it should be. I felt an
immediate release of something that I hadn't realized was
inside of me. Something akin to a cleansing had taken
place.
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In October, this memory of Brad's visit will be fifteen years
old. I don't dwell on the memory of Brad often. I have another
life with a wonderful husband (ten years of marriage) and
two wonderful boys - ages seven and four. I also have a
wonderful relationship with God and it just keeps getting
better.
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In June of 1988, I lost my dear friend Darrell. He died in the
North West Territories in a head on collision with a logging
truck. I am still best friends with Annie and I don't know what
I'd do without her. She and I have been a part of each other's
lives for 28 years.
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Cindie Williams
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Humorous Moments |
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Emily was 3 when her grandmother died. During the nine-
hour trip to the funeral home her parents spent a lot of time
explaining death to her, telling her that Grandma was a
Christian and was now with God in heaven. When they
finally arrived at the funeral home they took Emily up to the
casket to view her Grandmother and say good-bye. Emily
stood there for a long time just staring and thinking. Finally
she looked at her father and asked, "Daddy, is this heaven?"
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Special thanks to Grace Witwer Housholder for use of this
humorous moment story. "The Funny Things Kids Say Will
Brighten Any Day "
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I'm Waiting For Joe
by Sharon |
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My father died when he was 65 years old. Shortly after my
dad died, my mother told me she would stay around for 3
more years. I told her I was not going to discuss anything so
silly.
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Some three years later, on a Sunday we were at mom's
home for dinner and she wasn't feeling well because of
sore muscles. Mom who is 65 years old had been busy that
day pulling ivy off her house. My very aged aunt spent the
night with mom and called the next morning to say she was
having trouble waking mother. I told her I would be there as
soon as I got the kids to school.
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I had no one to leave my three-year-old with, so I took him
with me. I asked my aunt to keep an eye on the baby and I
went in to wake up mother.
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I had to remove her miniature poodle, Irving, who was
standing guard, and wouldn't let anyone in. In all of this
mother did not waken and I thought she was sleeping very
soundly. When I attempted to shake her awake, she was ice
cold. I stayed with her about twenty minutes trying to
determine if she had clutched at the sheets, or if there was
any other sign of pain. I found nothing to indicate she was in
trouble. She just looked peaceful and beautiful. It was three
years and three months since my dad had crossed the
threshold of death.
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Several months before her own death, mom told me that her
sister, who had died about a year before, had come to mom
and told her to come with her. Mother said she had started
to get up, then she stopped and she said "the hell with you,
Doris, I'm waiting for Joe. He said he'd be here soon."
Mother said she just lay back down and she went back to
sleep. And I would guess that mother did just that, she
waited for her husband to come and take her home.
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By the way both daddy and mother were both 65 years old
when they crossed the threshold of death.
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Sharon
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NO SHOES
by Roger Dean Kiser |
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He appeared to be very nervous as he walked through the
large wooden church doors. His head was lowered and his
eyes looked directly at the tile floor as he walked very slowly
towards the far back pew, away from the rest of the
congregation.
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The preacher immediately ceased talking and slowly
lowered his arms, which he had been flinging about during
the course of the sermon. He shifted his eyes towards the
young man as he accidentally slid on the heavy wooden
church bench while trying to quietly sit down.
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The deacons and choir master began to whisper among
themselves as several of the other members of the church
began to turn around and look at the unshaven figure. I had
noticed when he walked into the church that he was very
thin, dirty and that he was not wearing any shoes, and that
he looked awfully hungry.
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He constantly smiled at all the little children from the
orphanage, when we would turn around to look at him. But
then the matron slapped me on the leg because I dropped
the nickel onto the wooden bench, which the orphanage had
given me to put into the collection plate. So I did not turn
around and look at him any more. I always liked the money
collection part of the church service best because I knew
that it was almost over and we would get to go home soon.
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The preacher started talking, on and on about how people
should dress up for church and that they should cut their
hair and be clean before coming to services. I knew that he
was talking about the man in the back of the church
because he had long hair and he was not very clean
looking. But the man just smiled and never said a word. He
just sat there, once in a while raising his hands towards the
church ceiling and saying out loud "Praise God in Heaven"
real loud like. The older church people would look at him
like he was crazy or something, but he sure didn't look crazy
to me.
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The preacher finally walked off the platform and whispered
something into the deacon's ear. The deacon got up from
his chair and walked down the side isle, next to the pretty
colored glass windows and he asked the man to leave
because he was disrupting the church service. The young
man just looked up at the deacon and smiled. Without
saying a word he rose to his feet, turned and walked
towards the two large wooden doors leading out of the
church. As he reached the doors he once again stopped,
turned around and smiled at everyone. He reached over and
picked up the entire stack of "The Upper Room" pamphlets,
which were always sitting on the table by the entrance and
he turned them face down and then he walked out the large
wooden doors.
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I will never forget that smiling man with the very kind face
having to leave the church that Sunday morning because of
the way he was dressed, and not clean shaven. I never saw
that man's face ever again after that, I don't think. But he
sure looked an awful lot like the man that I saw in those
shinny pictures in the middle of my bible.
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Roger Dean Kiser, Sr.
"The Sad Orphan"
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Roger and his wife, Judy, also a writer live in Brunswick,
Georgia. As a child Roger was raised in a very abusive
orphanage located in Jacksonville Florida. He has written a
book titled "Orphan" which tells of the horrors that he and
other children suffered daily, for more than ten years.
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His book will be in all major bookstores and available
through his web site/link, for advanced purchase. Roger
writes non fiction short stories for Heartwarmers4u, Chicken
Soup for the Soul, About.com, WebMD and other magazines
and webzines through out the world. He now writes and
speaks to children in the Georgia School system about child
abuse and its effects.
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In the last two years Roger has developed one of the most
read child abuse web sites in the world, The Sad Orphan
- one which
displays many of his short stories.
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It's Okay Mom
by Sue |
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Our son Joey was 27 months old when we lost him. Joey
had fetal alcohol syndrome and complications thereof. He
was tube fed as he had no suck swallow.
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It was a Sunday afternoon and I was cleaning out the linen
closet and he laid in his bed in our bedroom. I was sorting
sheets, towels etc. and looked at him and he had very bad
diarrhea. I told my hubby I was calling his doctor because I
knew we were losing Joey. The doctor advised me to get
him ready and head out to the emergency room at her
hospital and she would call ahead and let them know we
were coming. I got him ready, grabbed his favorite toy and
blanket and we headed out.
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While in the E.R. (emergency room) Joey was holding my
little finger and he looked over at me with the look of "it's ok
mom," closed his eyes and let go.
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Today I can still see Joey's little angel face and feel his
clasp letting go. His eyes were donated and gave sight to an
adult and a child in the Chicago area and I know in my heart
his eyes never closed. They just shut momentarily to reopen
and see the world from a different place.
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We gathered his stuff, the diaper bag, his blanket and his
Red Wing snowsuit and I knew my little man had scored the
biggest goal in his short life.
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I miss you and love you Joey. Yes there are angels among
us.
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Sue
Visit Joey's page
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The Near Miss
by Evelyn |
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When I was living in Geneva, Ill. my youngest son was 2
years old at the time. that was over 33 years ago. I had to
run an errand at lunch time and my husband who had come
home for lunch planned on watching over our two year old
while I ran the errand.
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I was pulling out of a factory driveway heading for home. I
had stopped looked both ways and started to pull out. As I
did I was hit with a terrible cramp. I hit the brakes. It turned
out this was a life saving action as I had just succeeded in
keeping my self from being hit by a truck. The truck had
come off a street directly in front of me. He too was shook up
by the experience and he got out to see if I was all right. We
were one inch apart from impact. I was so shaken from this
almost accident, I couldn't drive for at least five minutes. I
shook for a few hours, thinking how lucky I was.
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I know that truck was not there when I looked. I have always
believed that the incident was God's doing to keep me from
being hit. I wasn't saved at that time, but God was saving me
for when I was ready to accept His Grace.
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Evelyn Mitchel
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