A Reply To Nancy

SUN., JAN. 27, 1991, 6:10 AM
FARM, STUDY

My servant Nancy hurts. She feels the pain of loss as her father’s cancer progresses. She writes to you in her time of hurting, and you must respond. So, on this dark Christian Sabbath I offer you some thoughts that you can share with her.

Death can be easy. Death can be hard… or any place in between. Your son Peter’s death was some of each. He was young, and his future lay ahead of him… this made it hard. The death was instant and without pain, you accepted it rather quickly and had good evidence that he had moved on to a joyous “place,” and this made it easy. For, as Nancy is experiencing, the relative ease or difficulty of a particular death, in this case her father’s, is partly a matter of how he feels and partly a matter of her responses.

Nancy loves and appreciates her Dad, but the cancer progresses, so she prays for his life, for his immortal soul, and for the diminishing of pain. A miracle that puts the cancer into remission is always possible, and, of course, I hear many fervent prayers for such. I cannot tell you there will be such, for I seldom change dramatically the body’s response to conditions in the earth. And cancer now is mainly the response of some bodies to the conditions of modern life, some out of choice and some from the general environment. There is a cost to the modern lifestyle, and some pay this cost in premature death.

Nancy is experiencing these feelings of love and sorrow, and she must express them. And you must respond, for she needs some companionship as she generates these emotions. She must express these to her Dad also, even as this will be a bittersweet experience for him. He is glad to know that he is appreciated and that his life was truly worthwhile as a father. And yet it pains him to know that his condition devastates his beloved daughter so. Sometimes one feeling will prevail, but usually they are very intermixed.

You are working now to send forth your current Ruminations, developing the theme of non-attachment. It is rarely possible to be completely unattached to someone you truly love, but the key is to be able to see that person as a gift and not as someone you deserve or that you must have. A loved one dies, passing on to more spiritual adventure without the hindrance of a poorly functioning body. Love can continue, just as it does when two people are geographically separated. But the death of a loved one should be seen as an opportunity to love others here in the earth even more.

The wonderful nature of love is that it is never limited. Love that comes from the spirit should be ever expanding. The more you love, the more capacity you have to love more. If the love for a dying father is genuine it should bring forth more love for others, even some who are rather unloveable.

Unfortunately, this does not always happen. There is always some of that lingering feeling of selfishness… “Why ME, Lord? Poor ME.” The death of a loved one should be a stark reminder that you are still alive and a servant of Mine, o Nancy. And the time of dying is the prelude to this. It should be akin to the classic near death experience where you face the question, “What have you done with your life?” and “How satisfied are you with your life as a gift to others?” Let the love that pours forth for a dying father be the source of more love for others… who need what you can give.

Depending on the development of the spirit the death of a human can range from a passage into apparent nothingness to a joyful, easy passage into bliss. The prayers of others help to keep the person conscious and aware of new possibilities. I do not tell you of what lies in store for Mr. Jose. Nancy knows that I am aware of him and his present difficulties.