A short time ago, I was asked to speak at a memorial service hosted by Hospice of Dayton. As a staff chaplain for HOD, I’m honored to take my turn fulfilling assignments like this. Everyone in attendance had recently lost a loved one who had chosen Hospice of Dayton for end-of-life care. This post offers the message I shared with them.
*************************
As a teenager, David Hawkins experienced a life-changing event. The year was 1939 and young David had a paper route in rural Wisconsin. With a daily trip of seventeen miles, David used a bicycle to cover his route. Decades later, in his book The Eye of the I, he describes what happened:
“On a dark winter’s night, I was caught in a twenty-below-zero blizzard. My bicycle fell over on the ice and the fierce wind ripped the newspapers out of the handlebar basket, blowing them across a snowy field. There were tears of frustration and exhaustion, and my clothes were frozen stiff. To get out of the wind, I broke through the icy crest of a high snow bank, dug out a space, and crawled into it. Soon, the shivering stopped and there was a delicious warmth; and then a state of peace beyond all description. This was accompanied by a suffusion of light and a presence of infinite love which had no beginning and no end and was undifferentiated from my own essence. The physical body and surroundings faded as my awareness was fused with this all-present, illuminated state. The mind grew silent; all thought stopped. An infinite, divine presence was all that was or could be, beyond all time or description.”
“After that timelessness, there was suddenly an awareness of someone shaking my knee; then my father’s anxious face appeared. There was great reluctance to return to the physical body and all which that entailed; but because of my father’s love and anguish, divine spirit nurtured and reactivated my body. There was compassion for my father’s fear of death; although at the same time, for me, the concept of death seemed absurd.”
David Hawkins went on to graduate from medical school, eventually becoming a respected psychiatrist. In fact, his private practice became the largest in New York City. He managed a staff of more than fifty employees, and treated over two thousand patients a year. Dr. Hawkins provided care for those suffering from profound, debilitating mental illness. After several years, the human suffering he witnessed daily overwhelmed him. He literally felt the pain and anguish of his patients. Beginning to doubt God’s existence, he was in the midst of a crisis of body and mind, health and faith.
Dr. Hawkins took an extended leave of absence from his medical practice. During this time, he was gravely ill. While never fearing death, he nonetheless shouted, “If there is a God, I ask Him to help me now! I surrender to whatever God there might be.” A personal, spiritual journey followed. Like many philosophers and theologians before him, he asked: Why would a loving God allow human pain and suffering to exist? Why would a loving God not intervene?
After a period of reflection, Dr. Hawkins mused: Is it possible that one of the primary reasons we are in this world is to achieve spiritual growth? And if this is so, which experiences afford us the most potential for spiritual growth? Of course, few people welcome or embrace suffering. Yet, it is during difficult, stressful – and yes, even tragic – times, that we have the greatest opportunities to grow spiritually. And if this is so, then perhaps we should re-evaluate our perceptions and judgments about challenging situations and tragic events. Perhaps they should not be judged so harshly. In the end, Dr. Hawkins’ health and his faith in God were restored. Today, he is an acclaimed author who has written a series of spiritual books; and he is a master teacher who has travelled the world offering lectures and workshops on spiritual growth.
Dr. Hawkins teaches that a mature faith in God eventually leads to complete surrender to His will. Trust in God nurtures an underlying sense of well-being. And it’s liberating. Why? Because when we surrender to a higher power, there is no longer a need to micro-manage our lives or to worry about anything at all. There is no longer a burden to try to singlehandedly save the world. These daunting tasks are left to God.
Still, even for those who surrender, there are important choices to make. Chief among them is the willingness to adjust our perception of the human experience. The book A Course in Miracles proposes that a miracle is nothing more than a ‘shift in perception.’ For example, what we first perceive as harmful, might ultimately prove helpful. Take those who are struggling with addictions. Perhaps they need to hit ‘rock bottom’ before coming to their senses. Maybe only pain and suffering can serve as the catalyst which causes an addict to choose a better path – a new life that, in time, might be filled with meaning, purpose, and joy. For these people, pain and suffering serve a ‘greater good.’
Our perception influences all of life’s vast and varied experiences. It is important, therefore, to understand that perception is a matter of choice. Truly, it is a blessing to have a choice in how individual experiences and the world at large are perceived. As a result, we can choose to see peace, rather than conflict; love, rather than fear; abundance, rather than lack; and we can choose to see a divine plan, not random chaos.
Sam is eighty-two and has lived alone in a spacious home since his wife, Doris, died three years ago. Though he still misses Doris, Sam has been comfortable. He has enjoyed living independently, in a familiar place, with plenty of room and privacy. But his health has slowly declined. He has struggled with grooming, preparing meals, and other daily tasks. Recently, Sam fell. Unable to get up, he crawled to a phone and dialed 911 for help. After this incident, Sam’s adult children encouraged him to move into an assisted living community, where he would have aid when it was needed. Sam agreed to move.
A few weeks later, his son, Thomas, drove Sam to his new home. In a voice tinged with anxiety, Thomas explained, “Dad, you’re going to notice some changes. The room is small, and you’ll be sharing it with a roommate.” Sam replied, “I like my new room and my roommate. I’m very happy.” Looking puzzled, Thomas exclaimed, “But Dad, you haven’t seen your room or met your roommate yet!” Sam answered, “That has nothing to do with it. Happiness is something I can decide in advance. It doesn’t depend on the size of my room or the personality of my roommate, it depends on how I choose to see them. I’ve already decided in my mind that I like them, and I’m happy.”
Indeed, spiritual teachers suggest that happiness has little to do with what ‘happens.’ We can find temporary excitement in what we do, we can find fleeting pleasure in things we own, and we can find comfort and support from close relationships. Yet, none of these leads to lasting happiness; for happiness does not originate from an external source. It is a state of mind. Happiness is an empowering choice that each of us, like Sam, can make. In a similar way, we can choose to be kind and compassionate to those we meet as each day unfolds. We can choose to forgive others and ourselves. We can cling to anger, fear, jealousy, and guilt; or we can release them. And in terms of our identity, we can choose to be a victim or a victor.
When a loved one dies, we miss their presence. Sometimes, our sorrow is overwhelming. We come to realize that our lives will never be the same. We try to cope one minute, one hour, one day at a time. Grieving is normal; and though there are shared commonalities, each person’s grieving experience is unique. Sometimes, grief leads to anger, fear, guilt, anxiety, or depression. This, too, is normal. Thankfully, help is available to those struggling with bereavement issues. Hospice of Dayton has reading materials that provide practical coping suggestions. For many people, individual or group counseling is an effective option; and Hospice of Dayton offers this service as well.
In closing, I ask that you reflect on the following: When someone you love dies, there is an emptiness – a void – in your heart. Yet, there is choice to make. That emptiness – that void – is destined to be filled. Will you allow anger and fear to invade your heart? Or, will you choose to fill your heart with love and forgiveness? This afternoon, we honor the lives of loved ones who are dearly missed. We pay tribute to them. At the same time, we recognize our need for healing. Let this be a moment we choose to love and forgive. Let today be a time for healing.