Spiritual Things Matter

Love is the subtlest force in the world. ~Mahatma Gandhi

This time of the year is especially contemplative as many will honor Easter. Our churches will be filled with worshipers as they sing their beautiful songs and hymns in perhaps even greater conviction and love they have for God. I too lose myself in beautiful and worshipful hymns and songs as they can touch my deepest parts as nothing else can.

There is something beautiful and gentle about using your voice to sing. Singing with a group of people brings an experience of connectedness and love that I find deeply comforting. When we unite our voices in worship and prayer, we are reminded that each of us is giving, as well as gaining, strength and courage to continue on the path that we have chosen. As we look around, we see many who suffer and many suffer silently for fear that no one would understand. Yet, they continue to worship God because they are deeply convicted that there is strength in His Divine love. I bow in honor to all those who recognize this love.

My heart is pulled towards those who have found many of our churches to be empty of love. Though many words are spoken from our pulpits, it seems that so often the true meaning behind those words are gone. Unfortunately, there are many who feel that our churches have turned into nothing but large social places in which to meet friends and acquaintances in the hopes of perhaps filling some emptiness in their lives. I wonder, though – have we forgotten forgiveness? Where is love and mercy? What happened to sharing peace with our fellow man? It often seems that although the hallways of our churches are full, no one really sees the other. It often seems that each keeps to his own, perhaps out of fear that too much will be asked of them? The longing for genuine community and unconditional love is, I believe, the cry of so many. Yet, many fear to unveil and become authentic. As an alternative, people become islands unto themselves.

Practically everywhere we go, we can see a church on every corner, yet many will never enter them. I think of those who make their homes under our bridges and on our highways. There are many lonely people who live in shelters who have no money with which to purchase their next meal. I think of the children who have been removed from their homes because there was no love to give them, and only anger and hate was their lot. My thoughts go to the many elderly and ill people who were placed in homes and whose loved ones live too far away to even come for a visit. We have our hospitals where lives hang in the balance, and one never knows from one day to the next whether or not they will survive. Thoughts go to our military men and women who bravely offer their service, and even their lives, so that we all might have peace on our soil. May we offer our prayers with love, for their safety, and also for their families who know so many anxious moments, until their loved ones return once again, safely, into their tight embrace.

This Easter, I bow and ask that God will bring our hearts closer to Him. My longing is – that He may teach us how to pray and how to love one another in greater depth and meaning. I pray for His mercy and His peace, and I ask that we would never partake of violence and hate. May our eyes see that through His death, burial and resurrection, His work has been done and it is finished. May our ears hear that mercy, peace, compassion and love – are all that is left. May our hearts understand and embrace this truth – for it is only love that will bring healing and peace to this earth.

I pray that we may all recognize His beauty and through it, be changed into loving, compassionate, and kind human beings.

I wish each of my dear readers a blessed and wonderful Easter!

…the flower withers, but the seed remains. ~Kahlil Gibran

Each year, at Easter, my mind wanders back to my orphanage years. Easter was celebrated by going to church, and then later hunting for eggs that we all painted together.

One year, when I was about eight years old, I received a package in the mail. It was a huge surprise since I had never received a package before. I was excited and very curious as to who would send me a gift and I wondered just what might be in it. I noticed that the package was from my brother, Jean.

Approximately six months prior to Easter that year, my brother had been adopted out of the orphanage by an older couple who had lost a baby during WW II. It had been their only child; the mother had been unable to nourish her baby with her breast milk because they had been fleeing the Nazis and had been malnourished. The baby died in her arms. Years later, this same couple wanted to adopt a son. My brother was one year younger than I and we were very close. I was always very protective of him. Even though he had his own set of friends in the orphanage, we were fortunate to be in the same group since many siblings were split up.

I remember the day when that couple came to pick up my brother. We were at “Fraule’s” house. There had been no forewarning to my brother or myself that a couple was interested in adopting him. The couple liked me as well and expressed an interest in me, but they could not take me because my mother had never signed any papers of release for me. She had only signed papers for my two brothers and my youngest brother had already been adopted a number of years before. I don’t know why my mother did not release me.

It was a strange day, one moment my brother and I were together and the next moment he was gone from my life. I felt empty and alone. I felt sad and forgotten.

Nevertheless, that Easter a package came in the mail from my brother. As I opened the package, I reached in with curiosity and excitement that only a child could feel. I pulled out a little pink rabbit. What happened after that was beyond my own understanding. I clutched that little pink rabbit and started to cry as I had never cried before. I fell down to my knees and wailed with sadness because for the very first time, I could physically feel my heart break. I then realized he was not coming back and I would not see him again. I felt lonely and abandoned and in that moment all of my emotions which I could not put into words, came to the surface.

That little pink rabbit was somehow lost in the orphanage. The loss of my brother, Jean, however, has always stayed with me. The pain of that moment was so profound and deep that all I have been able to do is to deal with it at the various stages of my life. Today, in my mid 40’s, I write about it. Over 30 years would pass before I would see my brother again; in 1996, Jean, called me because he was getting married and he wanted me, his sister, to be a part of this special moment in his life. I was ecstatic and could hardly wait to see him again after so many years.

I am happy for people who have siblings with whom to share their joys and sorrows. My own two children have each other and I try to teach them never to take one another for granted. I always tell them that none of us knows what tomorrow may hold because one moment something is ours and the next moment it can be gone forever. I also try to teach them the value of spiritual truth which will abide forever. Hans Christian Andersen says, “The human life is a story told by God.” No matter what the story may be, may it always bring honor to the One who has created us. God’s love can heal all broken hearts. I truly believe that!

At the heart of our loss is gain – unseen, and yet eternal.
At the heart of our gain is loss through too much knowing.
At the heart of our joys are mysteries that remain untold.
At the heart of our tears is wisdom – embracing the cycles of life,
thus, finding stillness and peace within.

~Viola M. Jaynes