Passage I liked

[Perro J]

I found a book written by one of the earlier ministers of a church I was attending. I liked this excerpt and wanted to share it with the rest of you. Maybe you'll enjoy it as well?

"Our lives take their meaning from their interlacing with other lives, and when one life is ended those into which it was woven are also carried into darkness. Neither you nor I, but only the hand of time , slow-moving, yet sure and steady, can lift that blanket of blackness"

-Adlai Stevenson (1900-1965)

If, as the philosophers tell us, we have no true wealth save what we carry within us, our minds should be our treasure house. A mind well stocked with happy memories is the truest kind of wealth.

One of time's greatest boons is its softening of the angularities of pain. Sorrow's wounds heal, though not without scar. Grief's sharp jabbing thrusts or its aching emptiness give way to peace and sanctifying memory. That which has been, and is no more, remains within the mind to bless. The anguish is drained away. Remembering, we discover the meaning of the beatitude: "Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." "To suffer passes away," say the French; "but to have suffered never passes."

According to an ancient legend, a woman came to the river Styx, to be ferried to the land of the departed spirits. Charon, the ferryman, reminded her of her privilege to drink of the waters of Lethe, which grant the forgetfulness of the life she was leaving. "I will forget how I have suffered!" she exclaimed. "Yes," replied Charon, "and also how you have rejoiced." "I will forget how I have been hated." "And also" said the kindly ferryman, "how you have been loved." After thinking it over, the woman left the draught of Lethe untasted. Better the mingled memories of suffering and sorrow, joy and love, than oblivion.

Our ancestors offered prayers for the dead. We do not believe they need our prayers to help them through purgatory. But it is good that we should not forget those we "have loved and lost awhile." We need some other way to keep their memory fresh. How better than when, while quiet and alone, we let one and another face come to mind, called up from some mysterious treasure room. Perhaps it is our mother's face; and we think of what she has meant to us - what she taught, what she saw in us and hoped for us. Or perhaps it is a wise teacher of our childhood, or a beloved companion of former years. Golden memories come flooding in, bringing healing and cleansing. Sometimes they awaken old resolves, or point to present opportunities. They teach us our true priorities, help us to see how right the poet was who said that little unremembered acts of kindness constitute the best part of a man's life.

"Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it."    - Song of Solomon 8:7

 

[jmmosley53]

Hello Pero J

What very lovely thoughts.  Some comfort, others I need to ponder.