Good and Ready

As I sadly look on at the coffin of my friend’s husband, I wonder how one so young should die so soon.

I am certain that he still had so many things left undone; so many words left unsaid; so many of life’s experience yet to go through. But yet, he is gone. Leaving my friend to take care of their children. Leaving family and friends behind with hardly a warning or a last good-bye.

Why?

For those of us who believe in life after death, I would like to imagine that each one of us was born with a set of spiritual targets that have to be achieved before we are “released” from all earthly anxieties. I would like to think that my friend’s husband had completed the spiritual tasks assigned to him. And only God would know what these tasks were…

There are no words right now that can comfort my friend and her children. But in time, I would like to believe that their sadness will be replaced with the joy of knowing that her husband, and their father, has been released from all worldly concerns-- so very insignificant in the whole scheme of things. He now has a bigger task of watching over them— more closely from a better vintage point.



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Here’s my take, in song form, on what could be a possible basic spiritual target.

Did I fill the World with Love?



In the morning of my life I shall look to the sunrise.
At a moment in my life when the world is new.
And the blessing I shall ask is that God will grant me,
To be brave and strong and true,
And to fill the world with love my whole life through.

(Chorus)
And to fill the world with love
And to fill the world with love
And to fill the world with love my whole life through



In the noontime of my life I shall look to the sunshine,
At a moment in my life when the sky is blue.
And the blessing I shall ask shall remain unchanging.
To be brave and strong and true,
And to fill the world with love my whole life through

(Chorus)



In the evening of my life I shall look to the sunset,
At a moment in my life when the night is due.
And the question I shall ask only I can answer.
Was I brave and strong and true?
Did I fill the world with love my whole life through?


(Chorus)

Last Words

"In some hearts some rain must fall."

This is what is written on the tombstone of my father. When he suddenly died 29 years ago, not only did it "rain"; his death flooded our hearts with sorrow.



The family was hurting and when asked what we would like to put on his tombstone, we immediately agreed to use his favorite quotation. The quote somehow captured how my father felt about death-- as natural as the rain, a part of life.



We felt that engraving these words would immortalize him. And so it has in our hearts.

Before my father passed away, a visit to the cemetery was not a once-a-year event in our family. My father would pile us (that's 7 kids) in whatever vehicle we had at the time and take us on a spin to the cemetery on many late Saturday afternoons. We would visit the family plot (on my father’s side) and pay our respects to my grandparents and an assortment of uncles and aunts. Candles would be lit and flowers from our garden would be arranged. While my father sat with his thoughts and my mother continued to busy herself with the flowers, us kids would be given permission to roam the cemetery grounds. As children, we had this natural curiosity about the cemetery's residents. As a group or sometimes breaking up into two's or three's, we would peek inside the Chinese mausoleums lined up on the outer edges of the cemetery. Here we would catch a glimpse of the deceased whose serious faces were forever captured in yellowing laminated photographs. I personally liked the family plots that were more like open gardens than the usual marble-litic tombs encased in more cold marble. There were also out-of-this-world designs-- I guess befitting the state of the occupant. If there were a endless variety of "designs" for the final resting place; there was a lack of creativity when it came to tombstones. My siblings and I would call out to each other if we spotted anything that deviated from the usual name, date of birth, and date of death. It was like hunting for treasure. But our calls to each other were few and far in between. As dusk softly fell around us, my mother would call us back and once more we piled into the car and bid everyone good-bye.

Now this got me to thinking: If I were to come up with inscription for my tombstone, what would I say that would succinctly convey to anyone bending over my grave the kind of person I was?

Thinking about this has made me realize that I aught to be the kind of person NOW that I would like to have been after it’s all over.


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So while I ponder on how best to live my life and thus be true to the epithet on my tombstone, I share with you a deliciously deadly cookie recipe. This recipe was part of an ad for baking chocolate which I had clipped out from old magazine.


Baker's One Bowl Death by Chocolate Cookies



2 packages (16 squares) Baker's Semi-Sweet
Baking Chocolate, divided
3/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/4 cup butter or margarine
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon Calumet Baking Powder
2 cups chopped nuts (optional)

Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Coarsely chop 8 squares (1 package) of the chocolate; set aside.

Microwave remaining 8 squares chocolate in large microwaveable bowl on HIGH for 1 to 2 minutes. Stir until chocolate is melted and smooth. Stir in sugar, butter, eggs and vanilla extract. Stir in flour and baking powder. Stir in reserved chopped chocolate and nuts. Drop by 1/4 cup full onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake for 12 to 13 minutes or until cookies are puffed and feel set to the touch. Cool on cookie sheet for 1 minute. Transfer to wire rack to cool completely.

Makes about 1 1/2 dozen cookies.

Notes:
You may cut the amount of nuts used. I only added ½ cup to my batch of cookies.
Do what I did. Instead of using semi-sweet baking chocolate squares, I used 8 regular baking chocolate squares and just increased the sugar to 1 cup. And chopped up 8 oz or 225 grams of regular milk chocolate bars— more or less.