A wave of nostalgia hit me as I looked at anh Tin's photos.
One day he was full of life, and the next day he was gone. I
couldn't imagine how chi Ba, Kieu, and the rest of their family must have felt.
He didn't have a chance to say goodbye, to have the last sacrament, or to
arrange matters to pass on.
As we thought it was the best way to die (no pain, no
suffering), we couldn't help but thought about how prepared we were for the day
God would call us home.
Yes, how prepared are we for ourselves and for our loved
ones in case of a stroke, a heart attack, a car accident, a flight accident, or
any sudden death?
For our souls, do we hold on to grudges, resentments, hatred
and blame? Or do we fill our heart every moment with love and gratitude?
For our loved ones, what will we leave behind for them?
Good memories or hurtful ones? Liabilities or assets?
No one can live for us or die for us. No one can know
what day is our last. The only thing we know for certain is this very
moment this day. Do we fill ourselves with expectations or appreciations?
Do we love, feel joy, spread sunshine to others no matter what weather
and circumstances today may bring?
Just some foods for thought on a Sunday morning.
Huyen
Hello Huyen,
Great thoughts.
Such sentiments will become more intense as you get older.
And then one day, when you are ready to go home to God: nothing matters.
And then one day, when you are ready to go home to God: nothing matters.
It will no longer be about pain and suffering, nor about the
ones we love, and absolutely not about assets or liabilities.
It will be about you and God, just you and God.
Then nothing matters.
God matters.
I learned this from observing the last days of Dad’s life.
Dad validated Luke 23:46,
Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I
commend my spirit”; and when he had said this he breathed his last.
Then the only true message is this: how do we live a life worthy
of God’s mercy.
God won’t care about how large your bank account is, but He
appreciates the missions you’ve done in the name of charity.
He won’t care about the houses you owned, but He knows the love
when you looked into the eyes of a poor widow.
He won’t care about the title you have, but He sees your tears
when you hugged a crying child.
Live your life worthy to be welcomed into the embrace of God.
But of course, Anh Tin, his family, and everyone already know
that.
Don’t we.
Vui
Yes.
I remember how dad thought about the MDA folks. (Actually, Khoa and
I made that poster for dad). I remember clearly, that without a penny in his
pocket, dad was able to leave us many assets before he died. The assets
had nothing to do with money, houses, or title. Dad was appreciative of
the help he received. Dad had faith, hope, and love. He himself was
an asset. But the biggest asset he left for my family is: He
believed in us: in me, in Phuoc, in Chau, and in Khoa.
Many
nights I spent with dad, in MDA and at home. Dad and I said nightly
prayers together. Dad said many meaningful prayers. He didn't
broadcast how he prayed or whom he prayed for. But his prayers left huge
imprints in my heart.
In
his last days, dad also said many times that he would not leave us with
liabilities. That he didn't owe anyone anything, be it emotional or
monetary. He reassured us that we won't need to pay anyone for anything
that he did or didn't do.
Dad
knew about the soul, about God, about life after this life. But he spoke
from his heart with his own words. He didn't quote the Bible, didn't
speak like he was God or a medium of God, or a medium of any dead person.
When dad saw a sign of Mother Mary from the window of his hospital room,
he took it as God's personal message to him. On occasions, Dad saw God
and deceased relatives in his dreams, but he didn't interpret them as a message
to be delivered to others. Dad had a clear distinction between dreams and
using his dreams for interpretation of his subconscious judgements of others.
Yes,
I remember clearly many things about dad.
Huyen
