Wednesday, February 10, 2010
When the time comes, just say "I'm passing on my way."
I had never heard death described quite like that. The radio DJ, announcing the death of a popular singer, said, the artist "passed on his way."
Passed on his way . . . how fitting a description.
"Passed on our way," as if to remind us that we began in one place, spent some time in this place, before heading on to the next place.
We weren't just here then gone.
There was a purpose to our journey, or as Og Mandino said in The Greatest Miracle in the World, "You are not the momentary whim of a careless creator experimenting in the laboratory of life . . . you have a purpose."
We are on our way from somewhere to somewhere, and, along the way, we pass by here.
We do not "pass away," for that implies what legacy we left passes away. We do not "die." That is so final, too final.
We pass on our way, and along the journey, have the time of our lives.
For whatever reason, my "purpose" seems to be enlightening children to the potential inside of them. It's there as infants, and somehow, through all the trials of life, we begin to forget, to doubt, to stop believing. Be the spark that rekindles that hope in others. Don't hold back.
"And I leave you now, not with sadness but with satisfaction and joy that we came together and walked, arm in arm, through this brief moment of eternity. Who could ask for more?" The ragpicker in The Greatest Miracle in the World
photo credit: Judy Mae Bingman