“I don’t care what your friend says, they’re my dishes and I want you to pack them the way I say so!” Salome, a middle-aged mother, shouted in her shrill voice at her son, in his mid twenties. They were standing in the living room of her house surrounded by boxes and piles and piles of her possessions. “Now, stand the plates on their side when you pack them. I read in a magazine once that that’s the way to keep them from breaking.”
“I’ve moved lots of time and packed lots of dishes,” replied the son. “None have ever broken.”
“They’re my dishes!” She screamed at him, as rain beat on the windows. “Pack them the way I tell you!” Lightening flashed and thunder rolled in the background.
Pictures flashed in Jared’s mind, a steady stream of previous times in his life when his mother had insisted on doing some task in a particular and difficult way. The outcome wasn’t any different from what he was going to do, her way was just more work for him.

“I told you to fold the towels THIS WAY!!” Jared’s mother screamed at him when he was ten. She held up the towel lengthways, folded it in half, then folded it in half again the other way. “That way you get the whole towel when it’s taken from the shelf! Now refold them all the way I said!” She pointed to the stack of towels he had just folded.
Jared had thought he was done because the clean towels were all folded. Now he had to unfold and refold them all over again. It was a nice day outside, but he couldn’t go out, he had to redo the stack of towels and finish the rest of the laundry.

“What do you think you’re DOING!” Jared’s mother screamed at him when he was eleven. He had just stacked all the clean dishes on a towel laid crossways on the kitchen table.
“I wanted them to look fancy, like they do in hotels.” He murmured with his head down.
“That’s a dirty towel,” stated his mother as the picked up the stack of clean dishes and put them in the dirty dishwater in the sink. “Now wash them all again!” She swept up all the silverware and dumped it all into the water too, and then piled all the drinking glasses on top
It didn’t matter that only the bottoms of the plates and cups had touched the towel, which was no dirtier than yesterday when he’d dried the dishes with it. No one was going to eat off the bottom of the plates, nor touch the bottom of the glasses. That didn’t matter now, they were all in the dirty dishwater. Jared looked out the window, it would take the rest of the afternoon to rewash all the dishes. He would not be able to go out and play at all that day.

“You’re supposed to move everything out of the room BEFORE you sweep the floor!” Jared’s mother yelled at him when he was twelve. “You can’t just sweep AROUND the chairs, now move them to the hall and sweep the floor again. And you need to mop and wax the floor, too! Next time do it the way I told you the first time!” She stomped out of the house, slamming the door behind her. A few moments later, Jared heard the sound of her car pulling out of the driveway. He rested his head on top of his hands as he held the top of the broom. The job was now going to take the rest of the afternoon.

“No, No, NO!” Yelled Jared’s mother when he was nine, as she came over to the mounds of laundry. He was sitting on the floor sorting clothes into piles to be washed. “Don’t put my silk blouse into the pile of your shirts! I’ve told you that has to be washed separately, in the sink, by hand. Now set it aside so it won’t get mixed up again!”
Jared sighed and leaned back against the washing machine.
“Get busy!” she screamed. “Don’t just sit there like a bump on a log! Pull out enough colored clothes for a load and start them while you sort the rest. You don’t have to take all day! I’m going to lie down. When I come back the first load should be done and in the dryer and a second load in the washer!” She turned and walked away without a response from Jared. He slowly stood up and began to put clothes of assorted colors into the washing machine.
“And remember!” His mother called back. “Turn all the socks inside out, shake them, then turn them right side out again, before you wash them. The dirt can’t get out of them otherwise, especially your brother’s and your father’s.” Then he heard the door to her room shut firmly. He sighed and laid his head on his arms on top of the clothes dryer.

The room was lit by a flash of lightening and, moments later, a deafening crashing sound filled the air.
“That was pretty close,” remarked Jared.
“Yes, but it’s outside. We’ve got to get this stuff packed. I have to be out of here by the end of the week.”
“This would be a good time to sort out the stuff you don’t need.”
“Don’t tell me what I need or don’t need! Just pack the way I told you!
The telephone, an older one connected to a land line, on a table by the couch, gave a short, partial ring.
“Who could be calling me now?” Salome wondered as she took a step to the phone.
“It may not be wise to talk on the phone right now,” Jared cautioned his mother.
“Just pack, I’ll talk on the phone whenever I want to!
As she brought the phone up to her ear a violent blast of light split the air outside the window and an earth-breaking crash of sound filled the room. A flash of light jumped from the phone to Salome’s head. She screamed and collapsed on the floor.
Jared stood paralyzed for a moment. Through his mind flashed brief memories of times when he was little and had been helpless under her tyrannical rage. Now she was helpless on the floor and relief flooded through him.

“Here is a blanket for your new baby.” Said Jared’s mother, when he was five, as she gave a brightly colored blanket to a woman Jared had never seen before. It was his favorite blanket. He used it to make a tent over his bed and fashion other spaces to play in. It was one of the few things in the house that was brightly colored. It was also special because it was the only sheet-blanket in the house: soft and cuddly, yet light-weight. That was fascinating to Jared. His mother had taken it away from him just that morning, washed it and wrapped it up. What was he going to use now to make special places? He watched helplessly as he saw it leave his life.

“Fill these boxes with strawberries.” Jared’s mother instructed him when he was twelve. He and his two younger brothers were standing at the edge of a large strawberry patch. “I’m going in to talk to Mrs. Wilson.” She turned and walked toward the farmhouse next to the berry patch. The two little boys, aged five and six, picked and ate a few berries then wandered off to the shade of some trees and played there. Jared was alone in the hot sun filling the boxes. He was there a long, long time before his mother came back and they went home. She was not satisfied with the number of boxes he had filled, but she didn’t want to wait for him any longer.
“Now clean the strawberries,” his mother instructed that evening at home in the kitchen. “And pack the nicest ones in this basket. Put the rest in this bowl.” She sat a large, but shallow, woven basket on the kitchen table and left the room.
The next morning Jared was instructed to bring the basket brimming with berries to the car, they were going to run errands.
“Whose place is this?” Jared asked when his mother stopped the car in front of a house he’d never been to before. He thought he knew where all his mother’s friends lived.
“Just bring the basket of berries and don’t bother me.” His mother instructed sharply as she got out of the car and began to walk to the front door. Jared obediently followed.
“Good morning, Mrs. Baker,” Jared’s mother greeted the woman who opened the door. “We were just driving by and I thought you and your husband might like to have some strawberries that I picked yesterday.” Jared’s jaw dropped at that clear-cut lie.
“Why that’s awfully kind of you, but he can’t eat strawberries.”
“Well, you and the children can enjoy them for him.” Jared’s mother took the basket from Jared’s hands and thrust them into the hands of Mrs. Baker. “We can’t stay, we have lots of errands to run.”
“Thank you, they look very nice.” Mrs. Baker said as she took the basket as Jared’s mother ushered him back to the car.
“We don’t even know those people.” Jared objected as they drove off.
“You don’t, but I do. She was the wife of our state representative. He knows me and I’m going to ask him to do something for me and he’ll remember the strawberries.”
“But he can’t even eat them.”
“That’s beside the point. It’s the thought that counts. Now, as soon as we get home I want you to start cutting up the chicken to fry it for supper tonight.”
“Where else are we going today?”
“No where. We’re going home now.”
“But the errands…”
“Pfft.” His mother waved her hand as if that lie was unimportant. Jared sat in silence the rest of the way home. He had had to do all that work, just so she could impress a stranger!

“Jared!” Called his mother when he was nine. “Go get your cowboys and Indians and clean them real good with dish soap and a toothbrush.”
“Why?”
“That’s none of your business! I saw a way to make the cutest fence with pretzel sticks to decorate a cake and your brother’s birthday is tomorrow.”
“But they’re my cowboys and Indians!”
“Go get them! Don’t talk back to me!”
“But he’ll want to keep them!”
“Don’t talk back to me, I said! Just get them!”
Jared was right. After he had cleaned the toys vigorously with a toothbrush and his mother put them on the cake, Tom assumed they were now his – it was his birthday and his cake. He had wanted the toy figures for a long time anyway. When Jared objected his mother just said, “You don’t need to play with them anymore. Be quiet!”

“Don’t even think of it!” Jared’s mother screamed at him across the dinner table when he was ten. “I cooked it – you’re going to eat it.”
Gagging sounds began to come from Jared’s throat as he choked on the food he could not swallow.
“Don’t you dare!” She jumped up from her place, ran around behind Jared, and clamped her hand over his mouth. He was obviously vomiting, but nothing could come out, her hand was held too tightly over his mouth. “You can just keep it down!” She ordered.
After his spasms subside, she washed her hands at the sink and returned to her place at the table and resumed eating. The other children just stare in disbelief.
“Now,” she said with satisfaction looking straight at Jared. “Clean your plate and then start washing the dishes.”

‘Why can’t she say we’re good kids?’ Jared wondered desperately when he was thirteen. ‘We get good grades in school. We don’t get into trouble. We don’t do drugs, or anything like that. Why can’t she say we’re good? Why can’t she say anything nice about us? We ARE nice. At least I think so. The little boys need to hear that they are nice. They might not know. Does she even like us?’
Then he remembered her screaming about the way he swallowed when he drank something, and about the way he shut his lips, and about the way he walked, and of course he couldn’t do any of the housework right. She even screamed at him about the way he slept.
‘I guess she doesn’t like anything about me.’ He concluded.

Jared was ten and standing in front of the kitchen sink. It was a wonderful day outside and he was faced with several day’s piles of dirty dishes on the counter beside him. Washing dishes was boring. It was more interesting to pretend the bubbles of soap were islands: islands that could be moved, divided and recombined. Jar lids were boats. Butter knives were the best tools to move the islands and boats.
Jared was concentrating on sliding the knife into an island, then moving a boat around it. He barely heard his mother walk into the kitchen behind him.
“You should be done by now!” She screamed at him. “You don’t need to take all day just to wash the dishes!”
WHAM! Sudden pain filled the back of his head. Jared grabbed the front of the sink with both hands in order to remain standing up. His head swam as he tried to hold it up. He was dizzy. If he collapsed he knew he would be defeated.
“I knew you were stubborn and hard headed.” His mother exclaimed in surprise and gave a short, hard laugh.. “But I didn’t know your head was so thick it would crack the platter!” She giggled in amazement. “I have the MOST thick-headed kid! I don’t believe it!”

“That is the most asinine thing!” Jared’s mother screamed at him. It didn’t matter the reason or his age, that was the word she used most with him. Most often it was part of a litany: “fat, lazy and asinine.” Every time she screamed his name it sounded as if it were an obscenity. He hated his name.

‘I won’t have to listen to her screaming any more,’ Jared thought as he looked at her crumpled form on the floor. ‘If she’s dead. But what if I’m held responsible? Damn! I guess I’d better do something. She is my mother, she did give me life. I suppose I owe her for that. I guess I can do the rapid compression that I just saw. At least I won’t have to breathe into her like CPR. Uck. But, at least I can say I tried.’ He walked over to the body of his mother on the floor.

Salome found herself in a beautiful garden. Lawns and flowerbeds were tended, trees were magnificent, some in bloom. The air was clear and fresh. There was soft, gentle, uplifting music in the air and floating lights. One of the lights approached her. She heard a voice from the light that was loving and kind but neither male nor female.
“Welcome, my child. You have arrived to begin the next stage of your journey through eternity.” The soft, loving voice came from the light.
Just then some lights shot up from the ground straight into the sky. They were out of sight before Salome could see them clearly.
“What were those?” She asked.
“Those were souls, just as you and I. They have made the ultimate sacrifice on behalf of some other soul. They gave their earthly life for the benefit of someone else. They quickly ascend into the heights of Glory,” the Light replied.
“Where am I?” Salome asked. “What is this place?” Her voice is now different, softer than it had sounded when she was alive.
“Some call it Heaven,” The Light answered. “Some call it the Kingdom of God. There are lots of names, but the name is not important. We are beyond the Kingdom of Names. You are beginning the next stage of your journey.”
“What are they?” Salome points to a cluster of lights in the air. They look like they are dancing with each other.
“Souls who are having a reunion,” The Light answered. “They are obviously sharing joy. Possibly one has newly arrived. Such reunions often happen.”
“No one is here to greet me,” Salome says in disappointment.
“You are being greeted now.”
“But not like that.”
“That is right. Not all souls are greeted the same way. Not all souls are the same.”
Some small lights danced past them in the air like butterflies and caught Salome’s attention.
“What are they?” She asked.
“The also are souls,” the Light answered.
“But they are smaller,” she protested.
“Yes,” the Light agreed. “Not all souls are the same size nor have the same form because they are not all at the same level of development.”
“What are those?” Salome pointed to some small, slow moving, dull lights on the ground.
“The are also souls, far less development than any you have seen so far.”
“What?”
“All souls do not have the same abilities or attributes. The differences are not obvious in earthly life, but they are here. There is great variation. Just like life on earth is greatly varied, so it is also here.”
“How can that be?”
“The purpose of earthly life is to develop the skills and abilities needed in this life,” answered The Light. “Just as an embryo starting it’s earthly journey develops those physical necessities to function in that earthly life: arms, legs, eyes, and all the rest of the body; so too, the purpose of that life is to develop the abilities needed to function here in this life. In that life the attributes are called by such names as: love, kindness, forgiveness, generosity, compassion, understanding – all attributes of the soul. Those who do not develop such attributes are not as developed as souls who do.”
Salome was thoughtful as she absorbed the implications of these words. Her thinking was clear now, more clear than it had ever been while she was alive, all the earthly distractions had vanished.
“In each day of earthly life there appear many opportunities to exercise those attributes,” the Light continued. “Now, in this transition, every person sees the results of their choices. Before proceeding further, you will see the life you have just left.”
Instantly Salome saw herself as a baby smiling and felt the joy of her older sister watching who imagined, in her childish innocence, that the baby was smiling just for her. And she felt the joy of her grandmother who was delighted, once again, to have a baby to hold.
There was joy as she saw herself toddling on unsteady legs to her father. He was delighted that her first steps were toward him. There was more joy as she saw herself responding to the attentions of the people around her.
Then she was an older child hitting someone and feeling the pain of the blows. She heard her old shrill voice screaming horrible sounds and felt the pain of the sounds even more than the pain of being hit.
“No, no. Oh, no!” She moaned.
Several such scenes flashed by of her face contorted into rage while screaming at someone. Each time now she felt the pain that her actions inflicted upon that other person. She could not tell who these people were, their identities did not matter, she was now experiencing all the pain she had given to others. Even incidental actions or remarks that were merely thoughtless, not intentional at all, caused pain, and she felt it all now.
“No, no, no,” she continued to moan.
There was a long period when she felt only pain, continuous, unending pain. Years of her life passed by in vivid sequence until she was a young lady and again felt happiness and joy. She was with a young man who was captivated by her looks and entertained by her wit.
There was more pain as she bragged about what a good “catch” she made, and then joy again when she saw herself in her wedding dress, walking down the aisle of the church where she was married. She had no idea that getting married brought such joy and pleasure to her husband. She marveled at the joy. It was more joy than she had ever experienced.
Next she saw herself in a hospital bed with a tiny, new baby beside her. Now the joy she felt was more than could be contained. She didn’t know the birth of their son meant so much to her husband.
She next saw her face, huge, distorted in rage and screaming. Little baby arms reach up to her in fright wanting to be comforted, but there was no comfort. She moaned as she felt the baby’s bewilderment and fear. The scene changed. The baby’s hands become little boy hands. Soon the hands cover the view of her contorted screaming face to shut it out. Once she yanked the hands away and yelled that he was to look at her when she was talking to him. From then on she saw scene after of her face screaming and occasionally felt the blows of her hands.
“Stop, STOP! PLEASE STOP!” She called out overwhelmed by the pain she has experienced. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!” She cried from the depths of her being.
“You can endure, you will endure.” Salome heard the voice that she knew came from the Being of Light. “Others had to endure all that you gave them. Now it is your turn until the pain is completed.”
“Opph…” Salome moans as she continued to feel the pain she had inflicted on others. She knows the Being of Light loves her and with that love she endures the pain. The experiences continue until the very day of the packing and the lightening flash. The intensity of the pain was less because, she realized, Jared had become inured to the constant barrage of invectives from her. His affection for her had long ago died. He continued to be part of her life only because he felt a residual level of obligation toward her. His hope that she would someday return his affection had dried up long ago.
The pain finally ceases. She was once again in the garden with the Being of Light.
“What happened?” She asked. “Is it over?”
“Yes, it is over,” the Light replied. “But it seems that your life is not finished after all.”
“Not finished? I didn’t die?”
“Yes, you did die, but someone loves you enough, even though he is unaware of it, he has succeeded in bringing you back.”
As everything faded from Salome‘s view, she heard the words, “Second chance,” faintly from the voice of The Light.

Jared dialed 911 and put the phone on the floor he bent over to his mother so he can hear and talk while doing the rapid chest compressions. He got on his knees and began to pump quickly and sharply in the center of his mother’s chest.
“Lightening strike.” He said between pumping motions when the phone was answered.
“924 Watson Lane.” Another press.
“Ambulance.” Pump.
“I am.” Pump.
“Door unlocked.”
“Living room.”
Time stood still for Jared. There was only the storm outside and his efforts to pump on her chest, to keep blood flowing to her brain with the possibility of keeping her alive.

As the stretcher holding Salome was carried past Jared, she noticed him and reached out her hand, calling his name. He stared at her, then reached out his hand to hers. She gripped his hand tightly and whispered something he couldn’t hear.
“Jared, come with me. Please!” He heard when he leaned down to her face.
Jared was so startled he let go of her hand, but she did not let go of his. His mother had never in her life said “please” to him. He stumbled forward to keep up with the stretcher and held her hand again as they left the house.
“She wants me to come too, but I have to lock the house,” Jared said to the attendants.
“Does it need a key?” One asked.
“No, just push and turn the knob,” Jared answered.
Jared followed beside the stretcher to the ambulance. As it was loaded in, he followed along beside it.
There was a seat beside the stretcher that an attendant motioned for him to sit in. As final preparations were made for departure to the hospital, Jared noticed his mother’s lips again were moving and leaned down to hear.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Salome said. “My sweet baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry. Can you ever love me? I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“What are you talking about?” Jared asked bewildered.
“Everything. Every awful thing I’ve done to you. Every thing I’ve done that hurt you. I didn’t know, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry…”
“Relax, mom. Everything will be fine. Don’t try to talk now, there’ll be time for that later.”
“You need to know that now I know how badly I treated you. You need to know before I die. You need to know, I’m so sorry. How can I make it up to you? I can’t, I know I can’t. I’m so sorry. Can you ever love me?” She began to cry.
Jared was stunned. This was not his mother. At least, not the mother he knew. His mother had never ever said she was sorry for anything she had done. She had never admitted that her behavior was less than perfect or out of the ordinary. She had never considered whether she was a good mother or not. She had simply done what she felt like doing. She had never considered other people to be real, they were just in the background. They either did what she wanted, or stood in the way. Nothing else mattered. Their feelings were not important, only what she wanted was important.
Now this was totally different. Jared couldn’t believe it. What had happened? How could such a change have occurred? It was hard to believe he was hearing these words from his mother. What was going on?
In the hospital, Jared answered questions as doctors and nurses attended to his mother. He was permitted to stay with her.
“I’m going to give her something to put her to sleep,” a doctor finally told Jared. “She needs to sleep, and so do you. Go home and get some rest. Her condition has stabilized, but she’ll need rest and observation. We’ll see how she’s doing tomorrow. Go home. You did a good job. You can feel proud of yourself.” Jared numbly followed the instructions.
The next day Jared was back in the hospital, in her room. He had brought flowers, unsure of her reaction.
“My sweet baby!” His mother exclaimed when she saw him standing in the door. “You are so precious! Come in. Let me hug you.” She reached out her arms toward him.
He sat the flowers down and leaned over the bed to return her hug but warily.
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been so mean to you. Can you ever forgive me? You do love me. How could I have been so nasty to you?”
“Uh, mom…” Jared was hesitant.
“What sweetheart?”
“You’ve changed. What’s going on?”
“Oh. You’ll never believe it…”
“Mom.”
“Well, I don’t believe it myself, and I know it happened.”
“This doesn’t make sense – the things you’ve been saying. It’s not like you…”
“I know sweet boy.” She stroked his head. At first he flinched, then held himself still. She’d never touched him gently like that. If she had touched him before, it was only to hit him.
“I’m not me any more,” she continued. “At least I’m not that me, the way I was. I certainly don’t want to be that way any more. I suppose it is startling for you, but you’ll get used to the new me. I think it will be a nice surprise.”
“But, mom…”
“Okay. I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t know where to begin…”
“The lightening hit.”
“Oh, yes. You know that, and you were right. I should’ve been more careful. I should not have picked up the phone with lightening so close. I never knew that could happen.” She paused to gather her thoughts. Jared waited patiently beside her.
“You won’t think I’m making this up?” She finally asked. “I really don’t know how to describe it.”
“I’ve listened to a lot before, I can listen a little more now.”
“I know you will,” she replied. “OH, God! You are such a wonderful boy. I love you so much, and I treated you like shit. I am so sorry!”
“I know, mom. Apology accepted. What happened?”
“I was in a place so beautiful that I can’t describe it. I learned that people there, after this life, are different sizes and different forms depending on their abilities, and their abilities depended on how they lived their lives here. I saw that I caused a lot of pain to lots of people all my life, but most especially to you. You loved and trusted me so much, and I betrayed you. I hurt you so much, and I’m so sorry.” She reached out her hand for his and he held hers. “I saw myself giving all this pain, I felt I couldn’t take it anymore, but you had no choice and so, neither did I. I don’t know how you managed to endure me. Then the pain stopped and I was back in that place and I was told that I was being called back here. You…. You brought me, your love brought me back. Despite all the pain I’d given you, you still loved me enough to bring me back. I can never say how much that means to me.”
She paused and Jared waited and continued to hold her hand.
“You’ve given me a second chance,” she continued. “I didn’t deserve one. I’ve seen what a mess I’ve made with my life, and I’m going to change. I’m going to be different. I AM different!” She tightened her grip on his hand to emphasize her meaning.
“I can tell that you’re different,” Jared replied. “You never said ‘please’ to me before yesterday. And you never said you were sorry for anything. I can tell that you’ve changed. Thank you. I’ve tried to be a good boy…”
“OH, you have! You’ve been a wonderful boy! Better than I deserved. I’m going to try to make it up to you. I pray to GOD that I will make it up to you!”
“You pray?”
“I will now. I’m sure God exists and I’m sure He loves us. How else could you love me so much as to even try to help me? God gave you to me and you gave me my second chance.”
“Thank you, God.” She looked upward with tears in her eyes. “Thank you, so much. Thank you for such a wonderful son, and thank you for a second chance.” She turned to look at Jared and gave him a smile so filled with love that he was startled, embarrassed and had to glance away.
“I talked to your landlord about your moving.” Jared remembered. “They said not to worry about it.”
“Oh! All that stuff?” Salome chuckled. “None of it matters any more.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“It’s not important anymore. It doesn’t matter.” She laughed. “It’s just stuff – and STUFF doesn’t matter. People matter. YOU matter. And your brothers, they matter. But stuff doesn’t matter. I want to get rid of it – sell it, give it away, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to drag it around with me. I don’t NEED it. I’m free of it!”
“Well….”
“Yes!” Her eyes lit up with a new idea. “That’s it! Sell it. Sell as much as possible and give away the rest, except the few things I’ll need for living simply. And keep all the stuff regarding your father and you boys. Actually you should each take whatever of your father’s stuff you want. He would want you to have it. And take whatever you want of your own stuff. But empty the house as much as you can, I don’t really need very much.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure! That’s one thing I learned – people are far more important than things. Things aren’t important at all. Only people, and how you treat them, is important. That, I have learned.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “You are such a sweet boy, you always were, and I never noticed. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay, mom.”
“No, it wasn’t okay. I was nasty and mean to you – far more than I was to your brothers.”
“Oh, I told them about the accident. Tom said he could come this afternoon. Ron can’t make it till this evening.”
“That’s fine. You’re the one I want to be with now. I made you work so hard. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I never thought about what I was doing to you. I’m sorry. I should have taken care of you more than I did. You didn’t need to do my work. I was supposed to be the mother, not you. I’m so sorry.”
Jared began to cry. It was such a relief to finally hear his mother say what he had thought all of the time he was growing up.
“Go ahead,” she caressed him as she cried too. “You can cry, it’s a good thing to cry. I was wrong about that too.”
“I tried so hard,” he said through his tears.
“I know,” she said softly.
“It was never good enough.”
“I know, I’m sorry about that too.
“I was just a little boy…”
“And I insisted you do my grownup work. I know…”
“It was so hard…”
“It was too hard. I’m so sorry, so sorry…”
There was a gentle knock at the door and a uniformed face looked in.
“How are we doing this morning?” The nurse asked briskly as he walked in.
“Better.” Salome answered. “I feel better.”
“That’s good.” He smiled. “I need to take your temperature and check your pulse to see how your heart is doing. Not so many people get off so lucky, you know?”
“I know.” Salome answered. “I’ve been very lucky, very fortunate.” She smiled at Jared and tightened her grip on his hand. “I get a second chance.”

Thank you to Duane L. Herrmann for writing and sharing this story with us!

The post Second Chance – A Spiritual Story about Forgiveness By Duane Herrmann appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

They fumbled with the good with very long spoons and could not eat even a morsel. At last, they started fighting among themselves. Then the boy was taken to another hall. This dining hall was similar to the previous one, the only difference being that here some cheerful people were gathered at the table.

The boy was just wondering how they would manage to eat with the long spoons, when he was surprised to see that each of them started feeding the person sitting next to him. They fed each other by turns and everyone tasted enough of every delightful dish.

Buddha then turned to the boy and said, “Did you note how everything in life depends on the way you are and the way you behave? You make a place heaven or hell by your own actions.”

The author of this story is unknown and greatly appreciated!

The post Heaven And Hell – A Zen Buddhist Spiritual Story appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of the long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.

When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at the desk to one side.

When he was close enough, he called out, “Excuse me, where are we?”

“This is Heaven, sir,” the man answered.

“Wow! Would you happen to have some water?” the man asked.

“Of course, sir. Come right in and I'll have some ice water brought right up.”The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

“Can my friend,” gesturing toward his dog, “come in too?” the traveler asked.

“I'm sorry sir, but we don't accept pets.”

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

“Excuse me!” he called to the reader. “Do you have any water?”

“Yeah, sure. There's a pump over there.” The man pointed to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. “Come on in.”

“How about my friend here?” the traveler gestured to the dog.

“There should be a bowl by the pump.”

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the bowl and took a long drink himself. Then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree waiting for them.

“What do you call this place?” the traveler asked.

“This is Heaven,” was the answer.

“Well, that's confusing,” the traveler said. “The man down the road said that was Heaven too.”

“Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's Hell.”

“Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?”

“No. I can see how you might think so, but we're just happy that they screen out the folks who'll leave their best friends behind.”

This spiritual story was adapted from The Twilight Zone episode called “The Hunt.” If you know who the author of this adapted story is, or can provide a source that we can cite then please contact us and let us know!

If you liked this story, you'll love this! We've compiled a list of the top 10 spiritual stories that our readers love. You can read them here.

What Is The Spiritual Meaning Of the “Man and His Dog” Story?

This story speaks volumes about the essence of Heaven and Hell, not as external destinations, but as states of consciousness within our very souls. The journey of a man and his loyal companion, the dog, unveils a profound spiritual truth—that Heaven and Hell are not merely places, but reflections of our hearts' inclinations.

As the man and his faithful companion traversed the road, a realization dawned upon him—an epiphany that both he and his beloved dog had traversed beyond the realm of the living. Yet, their journey continued, unfolding along a path that seemed to lead to unknown horizons.

Encountering a dazzling sight—a radiant, towering white wall crowned with an arch glowing in the sunlight—the man found himself before a gate that appeared as though crafted from mother of pearl, leading to streets paved in pure gold. It was here he encountered a man at a desk, and the traveler, parched from his journey, sought solace in a simple request for water.

“Excuse me, where are we?” he inquired, greeted with the resounding revelation that this was Heaven. However, the gates of this ethereal realm did not swing open for his loyal four-legged companion. Denied entry due to the policy against pets, the man paused, contemplating the choice ahead.

Opting to continue his journey, the man and his dog ventured forth, stumbling upon a different scene—an open farm gate, inviting and devoid of fences. An individual lounged against a tree, engrossed in a book, an oasis of simplicity amidst the unknown.

“Do you have any water?” the traveler implored, met with a welcoming response. Here, there were no pearly gates or golden streets, but the genuine warmth of human kindness prevailed. The invitation extended not just to the traveler but also to his faithful companion.

This serene setting, though also called Heaven, stood in stark contrast to the opulence of the previous encounter. Confounded by the contradiction, the man sought clarity—a clarity that unraveled the dichotomy of perceptions.

The revelation came in the simple truth shared by the man under the tree—what was perceived as Heaven earlier was, in fact, Hell. A place adorned with grandeur but devoid of the essential compassion that welcomes all beings, including cherished companions.

The spiritual essence woven into this narrative is profound. It speaks not of physical realms but of the essence of the soul. Heaven and Hell are not places but reflections of our choices—reflections of our capacity for empathy, kindness, and inclusivity.

The true Heaven, as revealed in the humble abode behind the farm gate, celebrates inclusion, compassion, and the recognition that our best companions—whether two-legged or four-legged—remain integral to our journey. It's a reminder that Heaven is not an exclusive sanctuary but a haven where the bonds of love and companionship are honored above all.

In the vast landscape of existence, may we heed the lessons from this parable—to recognize Heaven not as a distant abode but as a state of being where love, kindness, and inclusivity reign supreme. Let us choose a Heaven that embraces all souls, where no one, not even our faithful companions, is left behind.

Personal Reflection Questions

Spiritual stories are an opportunity to reflect on your own life. Here are 10 questions you can use to go deeper with the teachings in this story:

1. Questioning Perceptions of Heaven: Reflect on the traveler's experience of encountering two contrasting visions of heaven. How does this prompt you to reconsider preconceived notions or traditional beliefs about what constitutes a heavenly place?
2. The Companionship of Dogs: Explore the symbolism of the dog as a loyal companion in the story. How does the narrative challenge societal norms or expectations regarding the inclusion of beloved animals in the concept of a heavenly realm?
3. The Nature of Gates: Consider the significance of gates in the story, both the magnificent gate in the arch and the farm gate with no fence. How might these gates symbolize different approaches to spiritual understanding and entry into realms beyond our immediate perception?
4. Water as a Symbol of Life: Reflect on the recurring motif of water in the story, from the traveler's request for water in heaven to the pump and bowl by the farm gate. How does the presence of water connect with themes of sustenance, purity, and the essence of life?
5. The Kindness of Strangers: Contemplate the interactions between the traveler and the two men he encounters. How does the response of the man by the tree, offering water without hesitation, speak to the theme of kindness and generosity in unexpected places?
6. Acceptance of Differences: Consider the traveler's reaction upon learning that the place with the gold street and pearly gates is considered hell. How does this twist challenge your perceptions of what is traditionally considered heavenly or hellish, and what does it suggest about the fluidity of perspectives?
7. Friendship and Loyalty: Explore the theme of friendship and loyalty, particularly in the context of the traveler's bond with his dog. How might this emphasize the importance of relationships and compassion in one's spiritual journey?
8. The Definition of Heaven: Contemplate the response of the man by the tree when asked about the place. How does his simple declaration, “This is Heaven,” encourage a reflection on the potential for paradise in the ordinary and the overlooked aspects of life?
9. Dealing with Misconceptions: Reflect on the traveler's reaction to the conflicting descriptions of heaven. How might this prompt you to reconsider the role of individual interpretation and the danger of relying solely on external descriptions in matters of spirituality?
10. Leaving No One Behind: Consider the final revelation about the screening process in the two places. How does this resonate with the idea that a heavenly realm values those who refuse to abandon their companions? How might this challenge common perceptions of divine judgment and acceptance?

The post A Man And His Dog – Spiritual Story appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

One day, while they were frolicking in the water of a stream, King Brahmadatta was passing by. His eyes fell on the lovely Chanda singing and dancing gaily in the water and he fell in love with her. Guessing that the Kinnara was her husband, King Brahmadatta shot and killed him with his arrow. He thought that with the Kinnara dead, Chanda would agree to marry him. But soon he was proved wrong.

Chanda sat wailing aloud beside her dead husband. And when King Brahmadda came up and offered his love to her, Chanda flared up at his words. “How could you think that I would forgive the man who has killed by husband?” she shouted. Her heartrending cries shook Sakka’s throne in heaven. Pleased with Chanda’s devotion, Sakka came down and restored the Bodhisattva back to life.

The author of this story is unknown and greatly appreciated!

What Is the Spiritual Moral / Meaning of “The Power of Devotion” Story?

At the heart of this story lies a profound lesson on the power of unwavering devotion and the indomitable strength of love. Chanda's resolute fidelity towards her beloved Kinnara embodies the unwavering commitment of the heart. Her refusal to accept the advances of King Brahmadatta in the face of tragedy speaks volumes about the sanctity of love and the unwavering loyalty that transcends mortal realms. It serves as a poignant reminder that genuine love endures even the most challenging trials, remaining steadfast amidst adversity.

The parable echoes the timeless spiritual principle of karma and divine intervention. Chanda's impassioned grief and unwavering loyalty stir the heavens, inviting the divine intervention of Sakka. This divine act of restoring the Bodhisattva to life reflects the spiritual truth that pure intentions and unwavering devotion resonate with the higher realms. It unveils the interconnectedness between human actions and divine response, emphasizing the cosmic law that the energy we emanate finds resonance in the universe.

Moreover, Chanda's unwavering fidelity symbolizes the essence of moral integrity and righteousness. Her steadfastness in standing by her beloved, even in the face of great adversity, highlights the unwavering commitment to truth and righteousness. It mirrors the spiritual principle that righteousness isn't swayed by external temptations or pressures but remains anchored in the unwavering dedication to what is just and true.

The story also illustrates the transformative power of devotion and the divine grace that follows genuine devotion. Chanda's cries of sorrow and her refusal to succumb to the king's advances become a powerful invocation, drawing the benevolent presence of Sakka. This divine intervention, a manifestation of grace in response to unwavering devotion, unveils the inherent power within genuine love and loyalty, inviting blessings beyond mortal comprehension.

In essence, this spiritual story resonates with the eternal truths that transcend time and space. It unfolds as a testament to the enduring strength of love, fidelity, and righteousness. Chanda's unwavering commitment stands as a testament to the spiritual ideals of love's transcendence, invoking divine grace and embodying the unwavering commitment that transcends mortal limitations. Through her steadfastness, we are reminded of the transformative power of love and devotion, echoing the eternal truth that genuine love remains an unwavering beacon even in the darkest of times.

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The Bodhisattva decided to set things right. He felt that King Angadinna should be shown the truth. So the Bodhisattva came down to earth to give him advice and recite sermons. The king was amazed to see the resplendent beauty of the Bodhisattva and realized that, contrary to his belief, there existed a life after death during which a person’s actions were judged and punished or rewarded accordingly.

The author of this story is unknown and greatly appreciated!

The post Life After Death appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

The Bodhisattva felt worried as he had no food that was good enough for a guest. After much thought, he decided to offer his body as food to anyone who may come to visit him.

Now, Sakka, the King of Gods, learning about the Bodhisattva’s resolve, appeared in the forest the next day to test his strength of character. He took the guise of a Brahmin and pretended to be in dire need of food. Seeing the Brahmin, the Bodhisattva lit a fire by striking two stones and jumped into the raging flames.

Sakka was stunned by this act of sacrifice. The hare’s soul went up to Heaven and Sakka, in his honor, adorned the moon with the hare’s image.

The author of this story is unknown and greatly appreciated!

What Is The Spiritual Moral / Meaning of “The Hare In the Moon” Story?

The tale of the pious hare, a narrative veiled in simplicity yet laden with spiritual depth, whispers of transcendence and unwavering dedication to the path of selflessness.

At its heart lies the narrative of the Bodhisattva, embodied in the form of a hare, a creature of grace and humility. Engaged in the pursuit of enlightenment, the hare found itself at the cusp of a sacred day, a day sanctified by the offering of food to a guest before partaking in sustenance oneself.

In the face of apparent scarcity, the Bodhisattva, tethered to the essence of altruism, resolved to make an unprecedented sacrifice. Confronted with the absence of suitable offerings for a guest, the hare made a divine decision—an act of unparalleled devotion. It chose to offer its very body as sustenance to any visitor who might grace its dwelling.

In the symphony of destiny, Sakka, the divine sovereign, adorned with celestial grace, descended to test the hare's resolve. Cloaked in the guise of a Brahmin, he assumed the facade of dire need, presenting a litmus test for the hare's strength of character.

Witnessing the Brahmin's supposed distress, the Bodhisattva, without a hint of hesitation, sparked a fire and, in an awe-inspiring display of devotion, leaped into the raging flames—a gesture of unwavering commitment and selflessness that transcended the physical realm.

Sakka, the divine beholder, was left stupefied by this act of sublime sacrifice. The hare's soul ascended to the celestial realms, an embodiment of purity and selflessness, transcending the mortal coil and transcending into the embrace of Heaven itself.

In honor of the hare's extraordinary sacrifice, Sakka adorned the lunar sphere with the silhouette of the hare—a celestial tribute to the essence of selflessness and the unparalleled commitment to spiritual ideals.

The parable of The Hare In The Moon, wrapped in the simplicity of its narrative, resonates with the celestial symphony of altruism and spiritual ascension. It resonates not merely as a story but as a testament—a testament to the transcendental power of selfless sacrifice and unwavering devotion to the path of enlightenment.

The Bodhisattva's act of selflessness stands as a beacon—a radiant guiding light illuminating the path of spiritual enlightenment. It beckons us to contemplate the depth of our own actions, to reflect upon the purity of our intentions, and to recognize the transformative power of altruism.

At its essence, the Hare in the Moon story embodies the sanctity of selflessness—a reminder that the true essence of greatness lies not in worldly possessions or achievements but in the selfless service to others. The Bodhisattva, in its humble guise as the hare, imparts an invaluable lesson—an eternal lesson that transcends time and resonates through the annals of spiritual wisdom.

In the hare's sacrifice, we witness the echoes of ultimate devotion, a poignant reminder of the sanctity of altruism and the boundless potential of the human spirit. The Tale of the Hare in the Moon stands as an enduring parable, inviting us to embrace the highest ideals of compassion, selflessness, and spiritual transcendence.

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The Emperor reached the Zen Master and asked him, “What is hell and what is heaven?”

The Zen Master looked at the Emperor and said “You son-of-a-bitch! Have you looked at your face in the mirror lately? I have never seen such a dirty-looking fellow before!”

The Emperor was enraged! He had not expected such a thing from such a great saint. You don’t know great saints! You know only small, puny saints. A real saint is not a cat, he is a tiger!

The Emperor was so enraged that he pulled his sword out of its sheath. He was going to cut the head of the Master. Just as the sword was coming closer, the Master said, “Wait! You are entering hell. This is the gate to hell.”

The way the Master said “Wait!” was so powerful that the Emperor’s hand was stopped in the middle, and he understood — “True!” He threw the sword away, fell at the feet of the Master, and the Master laughed and said, “This is the way to heaven! You have already experienced both within a single moment. The distance is not far.”

Whenever you are surrendered to existence, whenever you live in trust, love, prayer, joy, celebration, you are in heaven.

Osho – “Be Still and Know”

The post Hell And Heaven appeared first on Spiritual Growth Events.

One of them got reborn in the heaven realms, the other monk got reborn as a worm in a dung pile.

The one up in the heaven realms was having a wonderful time, enjoying all the heavenly pleasures. But he started thinking about his friend, “I wonder where my old mate has gone?”

So he scanned all of the heaven realms, but could not find a trace of his friend. Then he scanned the realm of human beings, but he could not see any trace of his friend there, so he looked in the realm of animals and then of insects. Finally he found him, reborn as a worm in a dung pile…

“Wow!” He thought: “I am going to help my friend. I am going to go down there to that dung pile and take him up to the heavenly realm so he too can enjoy the heavenly pleasures and bliss of living in these wonderful realms.”

So he went down to the dung pile and called his mate. And the little worm wriggled out and said: “Who are you?”, “I am your friend. We used to be monks together in a past life, and I have come up to take you to the heaven realms where life is wonderful and blissful.” But the worm said: “Go away, get lost!” “But I am your friend, and I live in the heaven realms,” and he described the heaven realms to him. But the worm said: “No thank you, I am quite happy here in my dung pile. Please go away.” Then the heavenly being thought: “Well if I could only just grab hold of him and take him up to the heaven realms, he could see for himself.”

So he grabbed hold of the worm and started tugging at him; and the harder he tugged, the harder that worm clung to his pile of dung.

The author of this story is unknown and greatly appreciated!

Do you get the moral of the story? How many of us are attached to our pile of dung?

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The rich man laughed and said, “Don’t think of others. Whatever I have given to you is it not enough?” They said, “It is more than enough, but it is injustice. Why are these people getting when they have just come?”

The rich man said, “I give them because I have got too much, out of my abundance I give them. You need not be worried about this. You have got more than you expected so don’t compare. I am not giving them because of their work, I am giving them because I have got too much… out of my abundance.”

Jesus said some work very hard to achieve the divine, some come just in the afternoon and some when the sun is setting, and they all get the same divine. Those who had come in the morning must object: “this is too much!”

You just see: you have been meditating so much and suddenly someone comes just at evening and becomes enlightened. And you have been such a great ascetic. Just look: if all the ascetics reach and see that sinners are sitting just by the side of the throne of God, what will happen? They will become so sad: “What is happening?- these sinners never disciplined their lives, they never worked and they are here; and we were thinking they would be in hell!” There is no hell; there cannot be. How can hell exist? Out of God’s abundance everything is heaven. It should be so, it must be so, it has to be so. Out of his abundance is heaven, there can be no hell. Hell was created by these ascetics because they cannot conceive of sinners in heaven. They have to make compartments; they cannot think that you will be there.

Osho – “A Bird on the Wing”

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God laughed and he said, ‘Those who are last shall become the first, and those who are first shall become the last. You have enjoyed being first enough, now let Lazarus enjoy a little.’

And the rich man was feeling very hot — of course in hell you don’t have any air-conditioning yet — burning hot. He was feeling very thirsty and there was no water. So he again cried and said, ‘God, please at least send Lazarus with a little water, I am feeling very thirsty.’

And God said, ‘Lazarus was thirsty many times, nearly dying at your door, and you never gave him anything. He was dying, hungry at your door and there was a feast every day, and many were invited, but he was always chased away from the door by your servants because guests were coming, powerful guests, politicians, diplomats, rich men, and a beggar standing there would look awkward. Your servants chased him away and he was hungry, and the people who were invited were not hungry. You never looked at Lazarus. Now it is impossible.’

And it is said Lazarus laughed.

This became a deep story for many many Christian mystics to ponder over. It became just like a zen koan, and in monasteries Christian mystics have been asking again and again why Lazarus laughed.

He laughed at the absurdity of things. He never knew that a nobody like Lazarus — a leper, a beggar, would ever enter heaven. He could never believe that this had happened. And he could not believe the other thing either — that a rich man, the richest in the town, should go to hell. He laughed.

And Lazarus still laughs. And he will laugh when you die also: if you are a somebody he will laugh, because you will be thrown out. If you are nobody, just ordinary, he will laugh because you will be received.

In this world, because egos exist, all valuations belong to the ego. In the other world, the other dimension, valuation belongs to egolessness. Hence Buddha’s emphasis on no-selfness — ANATTA. He said, ‘Don’t even believe “I am a soul” because that too can become a subtle ego. Don’t say “AHAM BRAHMASMI — I am Brahma, I am the ultimate self.” Don’t say even that, because the I is very tricky. It can deceive you. It HAS deceived you for many many lives. It can go on deceiving you. Simply say “I am not” and remain in that NOTNESS, remain in that nothingness — become empty of the self.’

One has to get rid of the self. Once the self is thrown away, nothing is lacking. You start overflowing and blossoms start falling on you.

Osho – “And the Flowers Showered”

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