"We need to appreciate how precious life is."

                                 ~ Shelley Fabares

Today's reflection, a reprint of a blog I wrote in 2012, is in honor of a young woman named Kristen. She was, she is - for surely her spirit still is - the daughter of friends we haven't seen for many years. I just learned that she died earlier this month. Like in the blog below, Kristen's passing has affected me deeply. She was the age of our daughters. I did not know her well. But I know of her beauty and goodness and talent and preciousness. I know that many are mourning, hurting, with hearts broken open. Please join me in sending caring to all who are grieving. For every Kristen, every Shawn, every loved one we miss, may we live this day awake and alive with awareness, gratitude, and opened hearts. Every day is a gift. May we live this one with awe and reverence for the preciousness of life. And may we treat one another ever so kindly.

Thank you for reading this much longer than usual touchstone and allowing it to speak to you, to touch your heart, your life.

With love,

Charlene 

WHEN SOMEONE DIES: THE BEAUTY IN DEATH

Beauty? Yes. Along with deep pain and confusion, it seems to me there is awesome beauty present every time someone passes from life as we know it.

This is inspired by, and dedicated to, a young man named Shawn. He died in a car accident a few days ago. Tragic? Yes. Especially since he left two young sons. He will be missed by many, especially two little boys.

Shawn is not a family member of mine; he was not a close friend. I knew him more than twenty-five years ago when he himself was a little boy and lived down the street from us in Jamestown, New York. He was a school mate of my two daughters.

And yet I am deeply and directly touched today, all these years later, by Shawn and by his passing. I am seeing today how the news of Shawn’s death has shaken hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people.  Many ask, Why?! We don’t know the answer.

I like to think, to believe, that Shawn is now in a “place” where everything makes sense, where he sees how all the puzzling pieces fit together and he has compassion for all of us still struggling to understand. I do hope he is experiencing peace and joy and I am praying for his family. Words fail to address what I imagine is howling hurt for them.

The beauty I see is how, for a moment, or a few minutes, or several hours, or maybe days, life becomes precious for so many of us. We remember that our time here is limited. During the time of raw shock and hurt, masks are removed, armor is lifted, and we allow ourselves to be more vulnerable. More real.

Yes, it hurts. And yet somehow we see better. We see that life is precious.

Yes, hearts are broken and yet opened too. And there is so much love and light and reverence and compassion pouring out.

I get the sense that Shawn is smiling as he sees so much caring and kindness among so many people now. I imagine him saying, “Yes! Yes, everyone. That is what it’s all about! Love yourself! Love one another. Love life!”

I hear you, Shawn. Thank you. Bless you. Bless your family, your dear children. May they be gently carried and cradled now by Love Itself.

Life is precious.

Why can’t we live with this awareness all the time? At least in more of our time here?

What if, every morning, we say to ourselves, “This could be my last day here. This could be the last day of life for one of my loved ones?”  Without becoming morbid or fearful, how might we remind ourselves, every day, that life is precious? How do we choose to live well each day, with gratitude, compassion, and reverence for all life?