Gifts of Love

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Guest Post by Jim Jackson

Last time, I quoted from my journal of 2021. Since then, I’ve rebounded back 10 more years to October 5, 2011 when I met Dale, a hospice patient.

I am thankful to God and Spirit for eternal life and the opportunity to experience all manner of ways to learn truth and gain wisdom; and to one day be a true co–worker with God.

Dale

I don’t recall writing much about my current hospice patient, Dale. I believe I’ve been seeing him for the past month or a little more. Dale is diagnosed with “debility.” What this means for him, I believe, as I am not privy to his medical records, is that he has just about lost the use of his legs. There must be some sort of infection—inflammation process going on as his left knee is totally covered in a huge scab and likewise the distal half of his right foot. There are numerous scab spots, nickel-coin sized over both legs. He looks like he just left a Nazi concentration camp, just skin and bones.

Dale is only 68; only the second hospice patient I’ve had younger than me. 

On my first visit, Dale commented that he did believe there was a “higher power” because there was no way the world and universe could have otherwise come into being—like for no reason or way, it just formed.  But he didn’t have any idea what happens at death. He didn’t want to believe that death was just the complete end; that was hard to even comprehend, let alone believe, and therefore feared. But he had no other idea what death meant.

Of course, this conversation really interested me as now I thought I knew why Spirit had brought us together. It was another event in my “golden contract with Spirit.” I thought I was to tell him about heaven.

Journey of Souls

But another lesson is not to second guess Spirit. After the second visit, Dale was too tired to converse. I had left my “dear” copy of Michael Newton‘s Journey of Souls to read, so to stimulate our conversations and to open his mind to loving and compassionate possibilities. He never got around to reading it.

I call that copy of the book “dear” because my wife, Molly, and I read it together. After Molly translated, I re-read that book, and where my experiences of grief, dreams, Soul travels, other communication attempts, questions, etc. were somewhat similar to one in the book, I wrote notes in the margins. That copy is extremely valuable or dear to me.

I loaned that book to my friends Beth and Frank. When they each returned it, they said it was great, but the best thing was reading my comments about Molly.

Dale had expressed his feelings about death as being neutral. He had no idea what would happen to him, but trusted the higher power to do whatever it does, and that had to be okay with him.  

I told Dale he had a great attitude, and I was sure all would go smoothly, easily, and comfortably for him. Everything is automatic, and the Holy Spirit never has an off day or moment. The only thing that could make it harder for him was to have “fear.” Fear can interfere with the love and compassion, which will be all around him from the very first moment.

About all I got to say to him was what he expected he would get. After the tunnel and he stands in the beautiful healing light of Spirit, he would be met and welcomed by whomever he loved or respected  (Jesus, wife, mother and dad, etc.) and had already passed on.

During the death of the physical body, Soul has used a lot of Its energy so It is immediately taken to the rest and rejuvenation (R&R) area. There Soul is “recharged” with Spirit. After this, it’s home to all its friends, fellow Souls in a group—maybe 8 to 15—who are relatively close in spiritual level and have usually been incarnating together since their beginning.  

How much and how clear Dale got all this I don’t know. Maybe this was all Spirit wanted for him at the physical conscious level. My following visits found him sleeping; we may have had some inner conversations going on that I was not aware of.

Last week I saw Dale twice. He is now in the active dying stage. Only for a few brief seconds at a time is he conscious enough to say yes or no.  When he is awake enough, he is grabbing or grasping in the air with his hands and mumbling, so I can’t make out even one word.

When I first met Dale, he seemed mentally as sharp as a tack, and very intelligent. So now he has lost that ability. It is not easy to see this happening to a friend or a loved one as I also did with my dad in his last week.

But what is really happening here and now is the transition of Soul out of the physical body and physical consciousness into its true body, the Soul body, and into its next level of consciousness. Like this, in the natural sequence of events, it is a very slow, peaceful, comforting process. In a sudden accident or murder, it can be traumatic to Soul. The natural process of translation is much less traumatic and disruptive to Soul, than birth into the physical world.

The matter of a true, strong belief or faith in a benevolent heaven and afterlife, I feel, is so important in this very crucial and tender time of life. It is not a matter of being in a particular religion, but just having the strong faith—as I believe Dale does. 

Molly and “Our House”

I remember many times when Molly would come home after working as a CNA at “Our House,” the former men’s AID’s hospice facility, and tell me how it was going with several of her patients. To put in general, the guys (all knowing they were terminal), who believed in something: God, Jesus, Spirit, etc., all got along much much better in their last weeks and days than those who had a lot of fear. Some believed they were going to hell if anywhere, but if not, it was oblivion. The latter had some really sad and bad emotional episodes before their moments of unconsciousness. 

Our House was another area of love, devotion, and service to others in need, that Molly gave her heart to. Most people never knew of this loving gift of service of Molly‘s, or it has been overlooked, underappreciated, or forgotten. Molly was what we call, “a Giver.” She would go far out of her way to help someone and give them her last ounce of strength if that’s what it took.

I’m so glad that Molly‘s translation was peaceful and painless. In one way, I would like to have held her tightly in my arms those last minutes, but that would’ve been a horrible, emotional trauma for me and I don’t know how well I could’ve gotten over that. It was terrible enough as it was—which was an act of mercy for me from Spirit and Molly, another gift of love.              

Passing on love,  Jim.

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Jim Jackson enjoys reading, writing, and sharing his experiences with those in his community and friends. He still has an interest in tennis, he says.