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Three Pictures Concerning Death

Come Spring

There was a very large branch just outside her window. And on that branch sat a beautiful bird that sang a most lovely song every morning. She found herself looking forward to the song each day and would leave her window open, even on chilly evenings, for fear that she might miss the song. At the end of a spring and summer of warm friendship with her daily chorister, she awoke one morning with a start and realized her companion was no longer there. She realized what she had known all along - that birds must go at their appointed time and that there is no negotiation based on how much the song means or how much you wish that it would be there forever. Life is, of course, like that. Those dearest to us give us music that we come to love and even depend upon. And, at their appointed time, they must go away from us. But her bird returned to her branch the following spring to her great joy, and their relationship continued. And we can expect our own joyful reunion when our eternal spring follows the fallen leaves of our current earth journey.

"There's No Place Like Home,Toto!"
There is a big bird trying to fly over the rainbow! And the rainbow seems too high as the bird flies harder and faster to get above the colored rays before it fades from view. And as the first brightness of the rainbow threatens to give way to the sunset, the great bird gently floats above the highest color band. Another bird asks, "Why did you work so bard to get above a thing that fades away in such a short time?" "Because it is not the length of time alone that gives value but the beauty itself, my friend. Those few moments when I crossed above the rainbow they were worth the effort. To see that beauty from above is next to dying". "What a strange comparison. Isn't death something to be feared?"
"No, my friend, life is beautiful, but when you die you fly into an eternal experience more beautiful than anything ever seen on earth, more beautiful than any rainbow, and it is like going home after being away for a very long time!"

Flowers for God
In the heat of a night of distrust an ancient old gentleman bears his soul to the darkened corner of his room.
What else can be do? He has no other person who will hear his soul's deep questioning - or so he believes.
But that is not true, for when all others fail, by intention or lack of it, to hear your deepest cry - you can know that your Higher Self - some say God, is listening there as a
mother hen with her

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