The other week I was watchin an old movie on video, and it got my thoughts turnin toward the matter of me own mortality. It was not that the movie or the story line was morbid in any way, but just that I noted that one of the stars in it was no longer with us. He passed away some years ago from cancer.
Now I'm not goin to tell ye the name of the movie, for it would surely make you wonder what type of childishness courses through me veins, and in any case it is irrelevant to the reaction that I had and the reason for writin here today.
As we get older, and God willin we all will, we begin to notice that favorite TV stars have passed on; old folk in our street have gone the way of all flesh, and that school chums of similar age are no longer getting older.
Young people are often guilty of thinkin that old folk are preoccupied with death, and I admit to thinkin the same many years ago. But while I don't think old folk are preoccupied with death, I do think that the longer ye live, the more often ye encounter it, and it does make ye aware of both yer own mortality, and the uncertainty of when ye number's goin to be called.
I think the wake up call for me was when me friend Nigel had a heart attack and died at the age of 50. Such a young age I thought at the time, and with each passing year I wonder if I will still be around in the next.
So as I was sayin, the movie got me to thinkin about me mortality, and I began to wonder what it is I will be sayin to St. Peter at the Pearly Gates when he asks: 'Jack me boy, what did ye do with ye life?'
It's a simple question indeed, but not one easily answered for most folks I imagine. Some would surely want to skite about how much money they made, how much property they owned, or how socially significant they were. But is that do ye think, the measure by which the Almighty will judge us when he puts in the balances all the deeds of our lives?
Surely the measure will be more 'spiritual' like.
I read somewhere recently, and for the life of me I can't remember where, a story about a poor woman who one mornin found a hand delivered letter from Jesus, sitting on her door step. The letter advised that Jesus would be dropping in for a visit come lunch time. Quickly the lady cleaned her house and donning on her best clothes, dashed off to the store with what little money she had, to buy somethin appropriate for lunch with the Good Lord.
On her way home she came across some homeless folk beggin money and the like. She told them that she had no money left, and after listening to their pleas, took pity on them and gave them both the food she had bought and the warm coat she was wearing.
When she got home there was another note from Jesus, thanking her for the wonderful visit, the delicious meal and the warm coat.
The moral of the story of course was that we never know when we might meet the Savior, and how he might judge our actions.
When I was reasonably new to the USA, I met one of those born again hallelulia type Bible thumpin preachers. He gave me a book to read called 'The cross and the switchblade' written by David Wilkerson.
Some time later I encountered a young man comin down from a drug induced high, who was pleadin for help. Not knowin meself what to do, I called the preacher, and what he said astounded me. He said that he was sorry but bein as it was the prayer meeting night, his duty required him to be at church, and he suggested that I call a particular social organisation for assistance.
I couldn't help but think what the Holy Writ says: The good shepherd leaves the 99 that are safe and goes and looks for the one that is lost.'
When that man stands before God, I wonder what the outcome will be.
Palaces, treasures, high social standing, and bein top dog of an organisation might make for a comfortable life in this world, but I wonder sometimes what it provides in the next.
When I meself appear before the Almighty, it is my hope that it will be all the little things that I did that make the measure of me life. I pray that God will not set much store in all the failings I have had, but in the pure intent of me heart to treat each person I ever encountered, in a way that I meself would like to be treated.
I trust that the Almighty will understand, that as frail and weak a mortal man that I be, I did me best to help all those that needed helping; spoke kindly to all I encountered, and showed his love as often as it was humanly possible.
Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.
John (Jack) Walsh.
John J. Walsh, a Catholic, is originally from Ireland; went to high school and university in Australia, and later moved to the U.S.A. He lives in the Midwest and is married to an American. He now has a lot of time on his hands and is taking the opportunity to see some of his musings in print. Fearing the hot blooded protestants and not wanting to reach heaven or hell faster than is God's plan, his email address and other particulars are not available for publication. You may however Email him c/-: johnjwalsh_magic @live.com
