Debra Basham

Living and Loving

Tag: life after death

  • Serbian Mass

    Sacred Stories

    Attending Mass in Serbia was a dream. The homily began, soon turning her dream into disappointment. The Mass was being given in Serbian, a language she did not know. Why had she not realized this would be the case? She grew more and more distressed.

    Then she prayed, “Lord, you worked a miracle with language in the first Pentecost, letting each understand what was spoken in his or her own language. You know my heart. I want to hear this holy message. Please work a miracle for me today.”

    It felt as though a switch had flipped. She grabbed her journal and began to take copious notes. She felt she knew what was being said, but was that just her imagination?

    At the end of the service she showed the notes to their tour guide and asked, “Is this what the priest was saying?”

    “Word for word. I did not know you spoke Serbian,” he responded.

    “I don’t…” she breathed.

    These are sacred stories. What does this all mean to you? Do you have as story to share? Send email to debra@scs-matters.com.

  • Aphorisms: You Already Know

    “In the deep end, every stroke counts.”

    “Best not flirt with disaster, lest it decide to commit.”

    “Take two opposites, connect the dots, and you have a straight line.”

    These are a few of the pithy wisdoms included in Where Epics Fail, an upcoming book of aphorisms from Egyptian-American poet Yahia Lababidi, who also said, “Poets, thinkers and artists do not really teach, but remind us of what we already know.”

    This was certainly the case on Sunday, May 21, 2017, when I was honored as guest minister at St. John’s UCC church in New Buffalo, Michigan. The title of the sermon was, “The Light that is You.”

    I opened with a story from way back in the days of full-service gas stations, about a minister who waited in line to have his car filled with gas just before a long holiday weekend. The attendant, a member of the church, worked quickly, but there were many cars lined up ahead of the minister.

    Finally, the attendant motioned the minister toward a vacant pump. “Reverend,” said the young man, “sorry about the delay. It seems as if everyone waits until the last minute to get ready for a long trip.”

    The minister laughed and responded, “I know what you mean. It’s the same in my business.”

    In the perfect style of aphorisms, the sermon was summed up by this wonderful image on the bulletin cover, selected by Sandy Orange:

    I was blessed to share the work of some wonderful writers, including Zan Lombardo’s poem “EVERYTHING IS INDEED REACHING OUT TO EVERYTHING ELSE” that is done in calligraphy along the bottom of her amazing 30-foot watercolor (See: Three Sylables), and “Social Ethics,” a poignant opinion article by Kathy Zerler which had recently been published in our local newspaper.

    Confessing that I have already created my own eulogy so I can feel honored while I am still here living this life, and to save my loved ones from having to work to do it when I transition, from that I shared “When I’m Gone,” a poem by Mrs. Lyman Hancock, and “Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep,” written in 1932 by Mary Frye.

    Kathy, my sister-from-another-mister, was with me at church on Sunday, so she got to hear me read her piece. Following the service, Kathy blessed me with the most delicious lunch at Pierre Anne Crȇperie. An authentic French restaurant in a charming Victorian home has been there for 19 years waiting for me to discover it. I am still feeling the lingering effects…

    From the sermon:

    Our lives live on. Our lives are important. Children watch how we live. And children watch how we deal with death. We can live in ways that teach children death is not the absence of goodness, nor the absence of beauty. Perhaps life and death can each be seen as the place where true beauty can be known.

    Death is the only inevitability we all face.

    It seems only fitting to close this blog with another powerful aphorism that reminds us of what we already know—this one found on the St. John’s UCC web page:

    Never place a period where God has placed a comma…

    Can I get an AMEN to that?

  • Rude Awakening

    Sacred Stories

    She was admitted into the hospital for surgery on Monday morning. Well supported by family and friends, she had someone staying with her, dutifully sleeping on the pull-out sofa just a few feet from her hospital bed.

    In the middle of the night she was awakened by a loud crash!

    The entire wall of window covering—including all of the hardward—had come crashing down onto the sofa.

    It was the first night (in fact, it was the only night) she stayed alone.

    These are sacred stories. What does this all mean to you? If you have a story to share, send email to debra@scs-matters.com.

  • Grandma’s Ring

    Sacred Stories

    When she was eight years old, her mom brought her, and her brother and sister, to their grandma’s home. They were searching for her grandma’s engagement ring. There was concern about the ring being in the house while it was empty. Her grandma was in the hospital in acute respiratory failure after years of living with emphysema.

    Her mom’s search centered on an old dresser with lots of small drawers. Her mom was removing the drawers, rows at a time, searching for a small manila envelope containing the ring.

    The children were playing in the skeleton of the dresser, pretending they were mail carriers stuffing imaginary mail into each small cubby.

    After what seemed like hours of carefully searching and re-searching the contents of each drawer, the drawers were all put back in. The ring had not been found.

    Just as they were leaving, her mom turned back and opened one drawer to find the tiny manila envelope placed neatly on top. Her mom began to cry.

    As her mom sat there crying, the phone rang. It was her aunt calling with news that her grandma had just passed.

    These are sacred stories. What does this all mean to you? Do you have as story to share? Send email to debra@scs-matters.com.

  • Flat Tire

    Sacred Stories

    He had a flat tire.

    Fortunately, a guy stopped.

    After helping him take off the tire, the guy then drove him to a place to get the tire repaired.

    “They do a great job here,” he grinned.

    The tire was quickly repaired, and the guy drove him back to his vehicle.

    Arriving back at his vehicle, the guy vanished!

    These are sacred stories. What does this all mean to you? Do you have as story to share? Send email to debra@scs-matters.com.

  • Eagle Print

    Sacred Stories

    His mother had passed away. He was missing her a lot.

    They went on a get-away-weekend to escape the stress of their loss.

    As they entered their room, an eagle print was hanging right over the bed.

    Eagle was the “animal totem” of his mother!They felt her loving presence there with them.

    These are sacred stories. What does this all mean to you? Do you have as story to share? Send email to debra@scs-matters.com.

  • Happy Birthday!

    Sacred Stories

    It was the one-year birthday of her twins. Her daughter had lived only three-days.

    She was trying to post a “happy birthday” message for her son on Facebook.

    NONE of his posts were going through, until after she posted a photo of her daughter.

    Her comment, “This little girl is making sure her birthday is celebrated!”

    These are sacred stories. What does this all mean to you? Do you have as story to share? Send email to debra@scs-matters.com.

  • Reunion

    It was 1:53 AM when he got up to pee. Faint shadows from the streetlight danced lazily on the wall. It had been almost midnight when she got to sleep, but she forced her eyes to open sufficiently and adjust to the darkness. He expected it, and she predictably said, “It is 2 o’clock. We might as well get up and get on the road.”

    They never think of themselves as leaving their winter paradise. Nor do they think of themselves as going home. They think of themselves as going to see the kids.

    Two days ago a good friend died. He probably didn’t think about himself as leaving or as going home either. I can imagine him thinking of himself as going to see the dogs.

    Traffic was pleasantly light, obviously one of the benefits of their 3 AM departure. More than a few vehicles passed, bicycles obediently following behind. Ontario license plates. Wisconsin license plates. Michigan license plates. A few Florida license plates, but mostly snowbirds driving north.

    A snowbird is a person who moves from the higher latitudes and colder climates of the northern United States and Canada and migrates southward in winter to warmer locales. Snowbirds think they have the best of both worlds…

    While nonsnowbird friends, family members, and colleagues scrape ice from the windshield, shovel snow from the drive, and brace against the cold wind, snowbirds ride bikes, play shuffleboard, watch Eagle chicks grow and fledge, play music, and go out to eat dinner at five o’clock in the afternoon.

    Some snowbirds write poetry.

    From a source of poets and writers poetry prompts “Creative Guidance for Writing Poems and Experimenting with Forms” comes a great exercise:

    If you’re having trouble starting a poem, begin at the end. Take a single collection of poems and make a list of the last two words from each poem. Then write your own poem using only these words. Be vigilant at first utilizing just the vocabulary from the list. After a couple of drafts, stray from the limited words to help bring the poem to its full realization.

    Here are two words from a collection of 9 poems by Mary Oliver:

    could save
    something better
    of things
    a star
    to pray
    your life
    morning light
    the universe
    of dust

    This poem, written on 3/3/2016, is dedicated to Joseph, now reunited with his beloved dog,Tramp.

    Of Dust—Version One

    Your life, of dust; of things?

    Something better?

    To pray…

    Could save the universe; morning light, a star.

    A Star—Version Two

    Longing for something better

    Pray to the universe—celebrate a star—dance in the morning light

    These are some of the things worthy of longing for

    Turning longing into loving could save your life

    From dust we come, and to dust we return. Farewell, Joseph, we celebrate a star! Enjoy your reunion.

  • Safe Trip Home

    Every day I hear about somebody having surgery. Some of those surgeries are major, some are minor. I understand the definition of “minor” surgery as something someone else is having….

    Almost every day I hear about the death of someone I know, someone I love, someone I’ll miss. So much dying.

    This too shall pass. Living with impermanence is at once both gratifying and terrifying.

    Imagine standing on the seashore. As you watch the waves roll in and break, what has rolled in? What have you seen break? Are not the waves continually a part of the ocean?

    My friend, Rabbi Rami Shapiro asks what happens to an ice cube when it melts in a glass of water—he says dying is like that.

    Elisabeth Kübler-Ross (the famous “Death and Dying” lady). Elisabeth had suffered 19 or more strokes and was completely paralyzed on one side, yet she continued to live alone.

    Author Melody Beattie came to her home and did an interview at bedside. Melody asked Elisabeth if she really believed in life after death. Wasn’t she the least little bit afraid?

    Elisabeth laughed. “Didn’t you read my book, dear?” she said. “It’s not about believing. I know there’s life after death. Dying is the easy part. It’s life that’s hard.”

    Melody leaned over and whispered in Elisabeth’s ear, “Thank you. And have a safe trip home.”

    Rabbi Rami says that life is like a giant rope, and we are all connected to one another before birth, during life, and in our life-after-death. Rami says birth is like the tying of a knot in the rope. Dying is like the untying of that knot.

    This is my farewell writing for this winter’s season. Thursday morning I’ll be heading north with many other snowbirds.

    May we each have a safe trip home….

    Debra Basham 3/21/2017
    WC 301

  • Boat-4-Sale

    Sacred Stories

    He saw an ad for a boat in Boat-4-Sale magazine. He made a call and went to see the boat.

    When he got there, this boat was not the same boat he had called about, but this boat was perfect for him.

    “How did you know about the boat?” the woman asked.

    She said the boat had belonged to her husband. Her husband had recently died.

    In talking a bit more, he learned that the woman’s husband had died the same month as his mom. And this boat had previously been in Long Island where he had grown up.

    The woman said she needed to sell the boat, but she had not yet listed it.

    He bought the boat!

    These are sacred stories. What does this all mean to you? Do you have as story to share? Send email to debra@scs-matters.com.