When you see another in a different light: another hospice Miracle

I had come over to my friends' mother's place. I had admitted her weeks earlier in hospice, and we both did not know why she was still here. My personal experience in hospice tells me she is hanging on for some reason, and we need to know what it is. I asked the Lord again to guide me and why I am REALLY here. And it was shortly revealed.

Her mom began talking about these letters from WWII that she had wanted buried with her. She was having second thoughts about this and was asking me whether or not I thought she should leave them or keep them with her. I am in awe of the Greatest Generation. It has been such an honor to care for our men and women of this era, who risked their lives to defend out freedoms. I have met men who stormed the beaches of Normandy, fought the battle of the budge, held the base of Iwo Jima while comrades put up the flag, and women who built the machinery and even a Rosie the Riveter. I responded, my sense of awe spilling out of me. These kids were 16,17,18 years old, and doing things I could never imagine my grown sons and daughter doing. I conveyed if I had history like this I would consider it a treasured possession. But I was not in a position to make that decision for her. Regardless, the letters were primary on her mind, and with Jesus at my side, I thought lets see where this leads.

My friend who was taking a moment for herself was commandeered into getting the letters off her dresser in the other room. As my friend went to fetch them, I learned due to her vision, it had been at least 10 years since she had read them. I offered her to have one of us read a letter, and she was open to have one read. My friend had never read them. However that was going to change, along with more than one could ever scribe here.

My friend took the letters, and proceeded to put them in chronological order, and pulled one from the bunch. She casually tossed it aside, where is landed softly on the carpet, next to the rocking chair. I asked her what was up with that one, and she stated it was not from her father. Neither of us gave that much thought. My friend opened the first letter, and began to read.

What unfolded was the telling of a WWII love story between a love sick Marine on the pacific islands trying to survive the horrors of war, and his girl who was not only engaged back home but could not figure out how to resolve the matters of her heart. As we read the letters, it offered her the chance to tell us who she really was. The big reveal, besides the letters themselves, and how much he loved her, occurred three letters in.

The young marine, needed to know why she was writing. He told her he had to believe she loved him, because it was the only thing keeping him sane in the quiet moments he had with himself. He sent three letters asking her why she had written, and she still had not responded. My friend and I were incredulous. "Girl! Why haven't you told him why you are writing?"

She pointed to the letter on the floor. "See that letter, read that". My friend protested, "Mom, this is not from dad." " I Know" she responds with an all knowing smile on her face. " Just read it."

Time stopped again, as we read the contents of the letter insignificantly cast aside. It was a letter written, in secret, to the love of a very love sick marine. This marine, a friend of the author of the love letters, had stolen her address from his knapsack. He was writing on his behalf because he loved her and he talked about her all the time. This marine said he would not reach out to her, despite how much he loved her, because of his pride. He was asking her to please find it in her heart to reach out to him. It was not lost on me, that the very letter we both thought was meaningless, was the very reason we were all sitting there in the first place. That's a miracle right there. It was profound to be sitting there in that moment. It will live on forever in our minds and hearts, and that is how I know it was a miracle and meant to be.

Well that pretty much answers our question on why she did not tell him why she was writing. She kept her promise. She had integrity in matters of the heart. Our eyes began to open. Something was changing as we began to see her as the young high school graduate, she was. We put ourselves in her place and understood she was confused. She said no to his proposal of marriage before he left for service, because she said " I was too young. I had not even graduated high school when he proposed."

Letter after letter he continued to tell her how much he loved, her, and how much he thought of her. He poured out his heart. Hours went by as the pages he penned, filled the movie screen of our minds. Images of the war, makeshift ball fields, marines unable to cope, but mostly, how he remembered her. His visual memories of her beautiful blue eyes, a blue dress she wore with the eyelet lace, holding hands on the porch, a mother's intrusion while they necked on the front porch played out in our minds as time stood still.

As the dates rolled by from weeks, to months, to now new seasons, we asked her if her letters were signed Love, S. " No" she said flatly. We were flabbergasted. What do you mean? This guy has poured his heart out to you for months, telling you he loves you, and you still have not told him you love him? Well I must say, I was thinking how heartless. This poor guy needs to know you love him. What is going on.

She shook her head, and put her head in her hand. "Look you two. I was confused. I did not have a mother. I was Motherless. My mother died when I was 4 months old. Then my father married when I was 10 to a cruel woman. She was an evil step mother. " She did not love my friends mother, and treated her poorly.

"Ah." I said. "You had no one who could guide you in matters of the heart." She nodded, Lost in time, she whispered, "I did not have anyone to talk to, who could help guide me. " My heart melted for her. My friend's heart melted for her and we began to understand. Scales fell from our eyes. We both saw her in loves' light, instead of through the narrow lens we had had.

We got to know her in this new light, I asked her. What was it you needed to learn that changed your mind. She reflected back. She said her brother set it straight. There is marriage for infatuation, or there is marriage for love. She glanced at the two of us, with the silence of the moment compounding the profound decision she made to follow love, not the worldly best.

Miracles happen in many forms. One way is when you see another in a completely different light. You see someone whom you have judged a certain way, for certain reasons, and because of love, everything has changed, yet nothing has changed. Understanding, compassion and love abound.

We would not be sitting here, if she chose infatuation. That was not lost on any of us. Instead, she chose love. She listened to the voice in her heart, amidst the confusion of her motherless upbringing, and lack of support from the women in her life. Yet she heard and followed the call for love.

After this, no one could possibly see her the same. How could we. We thought we knew her. But we only knew her through our own experiences. Now because of this miracle we were able to see her as God sees her. A force for love, despite the odds. That is a miracle. Seeing her in love, that is a miracle.

These events then opened the door for the seeds of healing to take place with the hearts of all of her children. They too were able to open their hearts and minds, forgive and receive the gift of her story. You can be infatuated, or you can choose love. She chose love. How can we all turn towards ourselves, and ask ourselves, where is it I am only infatuated, and in which direction is love calling me. Regardless of the circumstances, love always wins.

Over two days, we read these letters, going as far as to record the readings the following day, because we realized what we had here. Shirley was physically way past her time. Emotionally she had said goodbye to everyone 2,3,4 times. The holidays had come and gone.But spiritually, she was not ready. Her family did not know the heart of who she was, and she knew that. She kept that part of herself so secret, until these letters began to trouble her with doubts.

She died peacefully a few days after the reading of these letters, and her knowing the enormous impact of having revealed the secrets of her heart.

The letters were not buried with her, but are now in a special box custom made just for them. They are a treasure of history, a love story, but moreover, the power of God's personal involvement in our story and contribution to life, should we choose to listen.