Maybe it's because I am of that generation which vividly remembers the heart-ache of those November days which began with gunshots in Dealy Plaza...who still can be transported back through decades of ordinary life by flickering images seared on grainy film...to feel again thegut-wrenching shock and sorrow that wounded a whole nation. The elegant widow who brought such grace to her mourning...and the little boy in the blue jacket who marked his third birthday by raising his handin salute to the father he would never know...no images are more powerful to those who experienced -- with an intensity that only happens the first time -- how television could make us members of one grieving family. That little boy...peeking at photographers from under his father's Oval Office desk...running into his father's arms...laughing when they played...perfectly expressed our American innocence and hope for thefuture. Then, one pathetic man with a gun in just moments made us uncertain about where the world was taking us. It's just as well we didn't know. It wasn't about politics. It wasn't even about Kennedys. It was about a magic that now is hard to imagine. We've become so jaded. If you weren't there, and you weren't open to it, then you will have no idea what I'm talking about. The exceptionally handsome magazine publisher and his exceptionally beautiful wife made news from time to time, but I really couldn't connect him to the long-ago little boy, any more than Mrs. Onassis had much to do with the veiled woman walking behind the caisson bearing the shatteredbody of a President. So, I'm sadder than I might have expected at this morning's news about the missing plane piloted by John Kennedy Jr. It's the more poignant becauseit was to be a happy trip, to witness the marriage of the one daughter Robert Kennedy would never hold is his arms...she was safely in her mother's womb when a bullet ripped the life out of her father. We can hope that the magazine publisher, his bride, his sister-in-law, and the flight instructor are all waiting to be rescued...I keep going to Newsday's AP website looking for good news. There isn't any. Now they report that the plane was within just miles of Martha's Vineyard whenradar last spotted it...over water. Jesse Jackson said once that the biggest mistake human beings make is to live each day as though life is certain and death is uncertain. John Kennedy Jr. is 38...he could be forgiven for thinking that life is certain for him, I suppose, and so he leaves no son to miss him as he doubtless missed his father. I've been listening to my "Out of Africa" CD as I write...there's a Scandinavian melancholy to it that suits me and the morning. I don'treally want to watch television because they keep replaying that black-and-white film of the little boy saluting... AP has a story which doubtless will be lost in all the attention on the Kennedy mystery, about a father's search for his son missing inArizona...it is wonderfully written by Helen O'Neill...if you don't find the story of Damean in your paper, and want to read it, I can send it to you. Life continues to be about loss and love and hope...and mostly aboutfaith.
Friday, July 04, 2003
Thursday, May 01, 2003
Keep Your Fork
DISCLAIMER: I am not a religious person, persay. I do have certain beliefs regarding my spiritual being. Once again, the story's scenario was used for the sole purpose of getting a message across.
There was a woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things in order", she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.
She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. The woman also requested to be buried with her favorite Bible.
Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave .Then the woman suddenly remembered something very important to her. "There's one more thing," she said excitedly. "What's that?" came the pastor's reply. "This is very important," the woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand." The pastor stood looking at the woman, not knowing quite what to say. "That surprises you, doesn't it?" the woman asked. "Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the pastor.
The woman explained. "In all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, Keep your fork'. It was my favorite part because I knew that something better wascoming..like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance! So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder "What's with the fork?'. Then I want you to tell them: "Keep your fork....the best is yet to come".
The pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the woman goodbye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She KNEW that something better was coming.
At the funeral people were walking by the woman's casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing, the favorite Bible and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the pastor heard the question "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled. During his message, the pastor told the people about the conversation he had with the woman shortly before shedied. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either. He was right.
So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you oh so gently, that the best is yet to come. True friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us.
There was a woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things in order", she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.
She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. The woman also requested to be buried with her favorite Bible.
Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave .Then the woman suddenly remembered something very important to her. "There's one more thing," she said excitedly. "What's that?" came the pastor's reply. "This is very important," the woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand." The pastor stood looking at the woman, not knowing quite what to say. "That surprises you, doesn't it?" the woman asked. "Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the pastor.
The woman explained. "In all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, Keep your fork'. It was my favorite part because I knew that something better wascoming..like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance! So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder "What's with the fork?'. Then I want you to tell them: "Keep your fork....the best is yet to come".
The pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the woman goodbye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She KNEW that something better was coming.
At the funeral people were walking by the woman's casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing, the favorite Bible and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the pastor heard the question "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled. During his message, the pastor told the people about the conversation he had with the woman shortly before shedied. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either. He was right.
So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you oh so gently, that the best is yet to come. True friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us.
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