|
|
8:32 A.M. - Wednesday, Oct. 10, 2007 We walked into the church, in the beginning I hadn't wanted to go, didn't want prayers, I was clear about this. My sister started talking to me about going while I was traveling to Indy, what struck a cord was hearing that bikers that did missionary work for inmates would be attending, also the picnic proceeding the service, (who doesn't like a picnic?) When I got to Indy other family that was invited also bulked at a day in church but this being close to my sisters birthday we all decided to surprise her, it was so important to her and we thought what better a gift than to give but our time and decided to attend. None of us hesitated about going to church per se it is the idea of organized religion. I know there are many paths to our Lord and desire to find a nondenominational church that recognizes all faiths and beliefs, teaching the word but not damning those that find the One in various fashions. My beliefs are nothing is etched in stone, knowledge is within us and we are driven (when we listen to the voice behind the voice) to find our intended path. My sister's place of worship is magnificent; I can feel what draws her to the fellowship of love for Christ. I have attended before during a previous visit. My last visit they were building a new addition and during that service I had written the name of my grandson and son on a little cross and they are now buried beneath the church, I felt these on going prayers for all that had written a prayer upon those crosses. The service was awesome, songs were sang, but what tugged at my heart was the bikers symbols stating they gave their time to those that live behind the walls, their mission was words of hope, words of encouragement, their eyes looking deep within the hearts of those that have fallen. Two bikers gave testimonies, one was the very path my son had chose I could see my son through every word spoken, my heart broke but I felt peace knowing one day he too would give testimony in some way to someone who walked the path. The other was with humor he too had walked through darkness losing everything until he tired of digging his own grave and laid his shovel aside to look into the light of love. Pure love, forgiving and unconditional loves that only our Lord can radiate. He is the one the all knowing what dwells within our spirits, as we are one only with Him. The service was over, they asked if anyone wanted to walk to the front and be with prayer, I felt the nudge from my sister, I said, "no." I heard a voice "talk to that man." I turned to my mom, asking "should I?" "Do what you feel" she said, or something like that. I thought no again, how silly I would look with all those people staring knowing my business, knowing my pain. I heard again, "go talk to that man." (This was a voice behind the voice within my heart) I looked at my sister and said, "Let's go," yes I was chicken to walk alone. The room disappeared, I was walking through a fog, I saw only one man, the missionary, not one that told my sons story the one with humor; he was the one I felt connected to. I looked deep within his eyes he into mine, I saw them� all the inmates he had consoled I couldn't stop staring searching for my sons gaze. He asked what I needed prayers for, I placed my hand upon the patch on his leather jacket, the missionary to inmates, "him" I said, "my son." All the personal loss and heartbreak of the months before felt small, the pain of living outside the wall was a burden I have held close. I had not many I could talk to, a loss too deep to express, a pain to great to acknowledge, a fear of exposing it to the world, so I held tight not realizing this. He spoke, his words of truth were full of humor, but I felt his pain for he too had walked the mile, suffered loss, our souls connected. I loved this man, not physical, spiritual. I know him he knows me, our paths will cross again I know this, maybe not while in the flesh but beyond. I don't even recall his name but I know his heart. Slowly I begin to release the pain of all loved ones that stand in bewilderment before the walls, all those in the flesh that have held tight to fears far greater to comprehend, those that cage burdens and hold them only unto themselves. I released those sorrows back the light of God, out of the darkness into the light. Through tears I felt many a loss, loved ones, our home, jobs, money, life as I once lived, health, love I once felt, I set them free, the burden too heavy. Still he spoke, I listened, still struggling in the flesh, but I felt love replace the void, pure love, unconditional love, I felt at peace within the struggles of the flesh. I wanted to write this down, time moves forward memories fade, we begin to question our sanity our recollection of moments in time, our knowing then forgetting, or choosing later to poo-poo and dismiss it. My experience was profound, life altering, mind boggling, but as real as the sun that sets each day and raises with the morning song birds. God is everywhere, in each of us, in each blade of grass, every flower that blooms, the rives that flow, rain, and even in the darkness He is speaking to us, or through others, I know this. My life now I cannot candy coat, my path is filled with ghosts from the past, sorrows of yesterdays, tears for tomorrow, loss is still loss and my son remains behind the walls of razor wire. Miracles as I chose to call them have been in motion from the day I left the mountain. I came home to an electric grill I can now cook on, my daughters have not only found me a place but filled it with materialistic items, and I even have a washer and drier in my new dwelling southbound. I will be close to my girls and grandkids awaiting the arrival of my great grand daughter, the wedding for my oldest daughter, the 10th birthday of my grandson, I feel loved, blessed. I feel grateful for the warm embrace from my sister's church, my family north that allowed me time to vent, to grieve, to laugh, and reflect my life in the now. The space I was given to just sit on the porch pondering my new journey and releasing my son and grandson back to the love of God. Most profound, the help I received allowing me to make the trip north, my sisters urging me to attend her place of worship, my mother and brother that gave their time to attend as well and the voice that called me to meet the man whose soul I connected with, for that�I praise God. Sandyz
|
