Do you feel what I feel?
I wonder if I will ever stop crying from the tragedy in CT. Or if I will ever stop thinking of the stabbings in China. Or the children blown up daily in the middle east. Or all the injustice surrounding innocents all over the world
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When I watched my Aunt Karen pass, it was glorious. Knowing the pain she carried in this world, of her broken body, would be gone. I don't know about the pain her spirit carried, but I like to think that all left her as well.
But I'm like you -- I'm very excited about my own death. Many people have asked me this week if I feel like the end is really coming. I look at them and just smile and say, "What a great adventure it'd be, right? To die?" And they all think I'm insane -- or at least look at me like I'm insane.
I used to believe in the God that Jesus spoke about. But in a way, that belief evolved and morphed into something else. Almost, in a way, Jesus was trying to explain God in a way that man would understand. And over time, that explanation hasn't changed, even though our minds can now fathom so much more than centuries past.
If Jesus were here today, how would he explain God in ways we could understand? Would it be the same story of all-power being in the sky? Or would it tell of stars and parallel universes, of lands where the laws of physics did not exist and we spend eons traveling these universes and becoming one with other souls.
I don't have faith in man itself. I know that like all other creatures, even the trees and grass, our time will be numbered. My faith resides out there, in places I cannot even begin to understand. It resides in the love of families, in the unconditional love my mother shows me. It resides in the impossible greatness of your mind, Sarah and the expanding love I have for you.
Maybe that's God.
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