Why we never talk about the miracles that come during suffering
Dec. 2011
by Julia Finley
Think what you must — they are “delusions” brought on by stress; “strands” let out by a strained mind — but truth be told, our dismissals are how we avoid touching the areas of life we do not understand, not coming anywhere near it.
The observer is stumped too, but without the luxury of these easy dismissals. After catching a glimpse of the unknown — the part of reality that exists beyond the veil, peaking out for a moment to smile warmly, then everything returns as it was — the observer is left to wonder what to do with a miracle.
“Witnessing” is largely out of the question. If they do “witness”, it has to be what people want to hear; if the observer insists on naked honesty, it is signed ‘anonymous’. I remember two “witnesses” that were nakedly honest, but only because I was in a position where I had earned their trust.
The first was an old nurse turned teacher, somewhere during my interest in a medical profession. The topic “Dealing with Loss & Suffering” had come up in our class, but the lecture soon turned to intimate feeling and experiences. Twenty minutes in, the teacher confessed an amazing personal experience with loss and suffering:
“Some years ago, my dad was really sick in the hospital. It was incredibly hard on me because dad and I were close. Then one night, when I came home from the hospital, I sat in my bed and something happened. I looked up and saw clouds opening, right in the ceiling, and light shined down upon me. I heard a voice which told me not to cry and worry; everything is all right. Then it told me that my father was going to die, and that my mom would pick up the body on Tuesday. My father passed away that very weekend, and my mother did arrive to take the body on Tuesday.”
The story she recounted made a large impression on my views and assumptions. How can we be so ignorant? Doesn’t anyone know more about this? How do I learn, without being regarded as crazy? I began to recognize how many mechanisms exist in society, to sensor spiritual experiences.
In another, my own dear family member was going through her medical crisis; during a stroke, she witnessed:
“Shortly after my hospital bed was wheeled into an elevator, I had a stroke just before reaching the 6th floor. I couldn’t move. Four ladies around my gurney told me to stop struggling; what I needed to do was calm down. I wanted to speak to my daughter, so I kept struggling. One of the women told me she was watching over me, do not worry. She was shaped like a pear — I don’t remember extremities, just her pear shape. When I spoke about the four ladies later with my daughter, she informed me there were only two persons on the elevator.”
Now I understand something. Our closed minds close off supernatural encounters, and foil the mission of their occurrence: impact. Again, these stories left profound impact on me. They arrive at trying times, not as products of stress, but as reassurance that life is still beautiful, even when it rains. The best thing a listener can do with these amazing recollections, is to contemplate the timing and purpose of the higher power. It could be that they arrive at that time on purpose, when we most need intervention, when it could change our views of life and reality forever.
Images: “Abundance” & “Breathe” [masthead] by Aaron Paquette
