[pyrnet] Fw: CHAT: Thoughts about New Year's

["Barb Bowes" <bamb@monmouth.com>]

The following was posted, last night, to another list. I thought
it beautiful, and consquently, asked permission to crosspost from
the author, which he so kindly granted. I hope that it may help
ease the pain of those who have lost beloveds, both 4 and 2
legged. It is truly worth the read.

Barb Bowes

<<A member of the Keeshond list to which I subscribe compiles an
annual register of people and creatures who have departed this
life during each calendar year. She publishes the compilation to
the list at New Years. Last year she began a new tradition:
asking another list member to write an introduction for the
Memorial List.

This year I was astounded and honored to be asked to write this
introduction.


I would like to share what I wrote with you, and to include with
it my best wishes for a blessed, peaceful, and happy 2002.


Stories teach.

Once upon a time (Genesis 9: 8-17), God made a promise to Noah,
to all human kind, and (significantly) to all animals on the ark:
never again would a flood destroy the earth. God signed that
promise, placing a rainbow in the heavens.

The Hebrew word qesheth, as used in this passage, has the same
meanings as the English word bow:  a qesheth, or bow, is an
implement used to shoot deadly
arrows. By extension, it is anything shaped like a bow. In times
and cultures where the bow, often highly decorated, was a primary
military weapon, chieftains ratified peace treaties publicly by
hanging up their war bows. When God hung that gloriously colored
bow in the heavens, it sealed a covenant between the Supreme
Being and all earthly creatures.

Eventually the oral tradition of Genesis was written down, and
all who read or heard its message understood the symbol of the
rainbow:  so long as that
bow stood in the heavens, there would be an effective treaty
between God and earth.

Whenever a rainbow appears, we see tangible evidence, an arched
bridge between earth and heaven, of a divine promise. It is a
path between known and unknown, between finite and infinite,
between storm and sunshine. Gods brilliant, beautiful, celestial
signature confirms unending, individual concern for all
creatures. Its ephemeral splendor takes our breath away, and we
stop a moment, staring, mouths agape, awed in the presence of
something so wonderful.  And we remember its significance.

Animal lovers use the earth-bound base of the rainbow to
symbolize the verdant, flower-strewn meadows, hills, and groves,
interwoven by cool, murmuring streams of sweet water, where our
dearly missed companion animals--now transfigured, forever
healthy-gambol and await our arrival. When finally we join them,
equally transfigured, and following a joyful reacquaintance, we
will cross an eternal promise into heaven together, there to be
united again with our human family and friends who have preceded
us, many with their own animal companions.

How sweet, how glorious those reunions will be! Our eyes fill
with tears of anticipation:  the sound of a beloved voice, the
touch of a well-known hand, the familiar but long-gone scent, the
soft fur we knew so well, the velvet shape of an ear, the pink,
smiling tongue. Together again, for all eternity!

Like Noah, we bring animals into our lives with delight, knowing
the great probability that they will predecease us. Before
separation and sorrow, however, comes
unconditional love, a love so joyously profound that it
transcends even death.

Death itself is as integral to life as birth. Both are part of an
unending cycle of change, of beginnings and endings, of additions
and losses. But the rainbow promise is constant and eternal as
God.

Now we come to a new year, an ending and a beginning, a death and
a birth. As the old year dies and the new is born, we remember
the joy and the sorrow
of the past, and we look forward with hope to the future. As we
ponder these matters, we count our manifold blessings, and we
resolve to better our world and ourselves.

It is fitting on such an occasion to pause in remembrance of
those we have lost during the past twelve months.

So many are gone!

We each remember members of our family. Our friends. Those others
who touched our lives, our minds, our hearts, our imaginations,
our souls. All these people we loved, each in her or his own way.
They gave our lives meaning, and our spirits wings and song. We
will see them again, and not, we are promised, through a glass
darkly, but then face-to-face.

On the threshold of a new year, we mourn those of whatever race,
nationality, or creed who perished in disaster, conflict, or
earth-shattering conflagrations and
plagues of terror.  We have seen the grim visage of evil among
us.

But there are numberless others who slipped away without
recognition or honor. They, too, deserve our prayerful
reflection.

We remember our beloved companion animals, those blessed
creatures who shared our lives all too briefly. And we think of
those poor waifs who departed this life without ever knowing
human love; or, having known it, lost it. All are waiting in our
imaginations, there at the earthly beginning of Gods promise,
until

The rainbow promises that we and our animals are each known by
the Designer and Creator of the Universe. Our finite inability to
comprehend an infinite
plan does not alter this truth. As we consider the Noaic Covenant
and the legend of the Rainbow Bridge, may we remember those we no
longer see, or touch, or hear; may tears of memory assuage our
earthly pain (tears, too, are Gods gift); and may we rejoice in
the wonder, the joy, the love our friends and companions brought
into our lives. In the midst of remembrance, acknowledge that the
Creator loves us each and every one, and loves our animal
companions as well:  we have the rainbow as proof and promise.
God is love, and God will wipe away all tears from our eyes.

Pause now.

Remember those no longer here.

Remember the human companions who shared your earthly journey.

Remember the animal companions who shared your love.

Remember the rainbow.

Remember your Creator.

Be thankful, and rejoice.

Stories teach.


John Klaus
Mount Vernon, IA>>