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Pause for Reflection: If I saw you from Heaven (with thanks to Eric Clapton)

Soul whisperer or creative rant, you as reader may have to decide; but I will unfold the event and share its impact on me. Sometimes the Lord uses the instruments at hand to draw straight with crooked lines.

Soul whisperer or creative rant, you as reader may have to decide; but I will unfold the event and share its impact on me. Sometimes the Lord uses the instruments at hand to draw straight with crooked lines.

I was visiting a family member who has grown cool towards church attendance. Parental love and example just didn't seem to have the drawing power they used to have. On the second night of my stay there I had a dream:

I was carrying a block of thick wood, about the length of a coffin, but it seemed narrower and not as deep. It was about the thickness of a Roman crucifix, like the one Christ died on.

I carried what seemed part of a cross into a church which was like the church I attended as a child, the "old stone church", St. Donatus on the hill. As I walked down the aisle I saw my mother and father seated in a pew to the right. I so looked forward to greeting them - they were born to eternal life 40 years ago.

As I neared them, they said my brother's name, "Denis". I puzzled about this as the dream left me.

Yes, my brother Denis left this world almost two years ago. Then, as I awakened, I recalled that I had carried my brother's urn down the church aisle at his funeral. What did it all mean?

Did my parents see me from heaven and reach out with this message? The cross of death is something we all have to bear in time. Jesus came and carried it to show us the way to Resurrection. The church established by His apostles is the vehicle our parents and grandparents used to follow the path to the Lord.

The dream, like Lent, is an invitation to return to the path our spiritual ancestors walked. It is the path of truth that leads to light. "I am the way and the truth and the life" (John 14:6).

Maybe we can carry our family members with us. As I reflected more deeply I realized that I hadn't gotten the full message of my brother's passing when it occurred. He was carrying me now.

His experience ministering to the dying had prepared him well for his journey. His example just hadn't fully penetrated until now. I have the tears to prove it.

Borrowing from another Clapton song, "time can bend your kneesbeyond the door there's peace I'm sure When it gets too dark to see," we may "feel like knockin on heaven's door".

Someday we may look out from heaven on our loved ones and perhaps ask God to send them grace and help.

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