A beautiful reflection words almost fail me
Once, long ago, there was an Englishwoman named Grace who lived in a strained marriage with her husband, Charles. Their days were clouded with silence and bitterness. One evening, Graces heart gave out, and she found herself teetering on the edge of death. As she hovered between this world and the next, an angel appeared and spoke gently to her: Your life has been weighedthere are both kindnesses and transgressions upon the scales, and your time in Heaven has not yet come. But you may return to earth for a few days to perform the good deeds that have been left undone.
Grace accepted, finding herself at home again, amidst the cool walls of their little cottage outside York. Charles avoided her, just as he had for years. Their rift was old, unfixed and growing.
She pondered:
I ought to make peace with him. Hes slept on the parlour sofa for so long. I havent cooked for him in ages. There he is, pressing his shirt for workperhaps I could surprise him.
Once Charles left for the factory that morning, Grace busied herself with his clothes, scrubbing and ironing them all with uncommon tenderness. She prepared a warm supperroast beef, Yorkshire pudding, gravyand set the table with fresh flowers and candles. Upon the sofa, she left a note:
I think youd find it far more comfortable to sleep again in our bed. That bed which once belonged to both of us, where our children were born out of love, where, through long nights, we found solace in each others arms. That love is still there, waiting for us. If you can forgive my mistakes, meet me there tonight.
Your wife
As Grace penned If you can forgive all my mistakes, doubt furrowed her brow.
Have I lost my senses? she thought, her heart hardening, Why should I be the one to apologise? It was Charles who came home sour each day when he lost his job at the mills, taking his anger out on me. I pinched our pennies to keep us afloat. He turned to drink and sank into that armchair for hours, shushing the childrens laughter. He lashed out when I tried to speak of our troubles. He let everything crumbleand now Im to ask forgiveness?
In frustration, she tore the letter to shreds. At that moment, the angels gentle voice touched her ear:
Remember: only a few more good deeds stand between you and Heaven. Without them, you cannot enter.
She sat quietly, ponderingwas it worth it? Slowly, she picked up her pen again and, this time, wrote from her heart, trying to shine light where there had only been shadow:
I did not understand you, Charles. I never saw your fear when the mills closed after so many years. Those dreams you spoke of for our retirementI dismissed them while urging you to drive a cab you never wanted.
I remember the night I burned your love letters and ruined your paintings. It angered me that youd lock yourself away with brushes and poems when we had bills to pay, but I see now I should have helped you share your art. They truly were beautiful. I was afraid too, only ever feeling safe when you held work at the factory. I could not see your pain.
Forgive me, my dearest. From this day on, everything will be different. I love you.
Your wife
When Charles returned, he noticed at once that something in the cottage had changed. The aroma of roasted meat, candlelight, the sound of his favourite classical record, and a note on the sofa.
Grace emerged from the kitchen carrying supper, and there was Charles, weeping openly like a child. She set the dish down and wrapped her arms around him; no words were needed as they stood together in tears. He picked her up and carried her to their old bed, and that night they loved each other with all the fervour of their youth.
Later, over laughter and memories of their childrens mischievous adventures, they shared supper by candlelight. When Grace went to tidy the kitchen, she glanced through the window and saw the angel waiting at the garden gate, brushed with starlight. She dashed outside, tears shining in her eyes:
Oh, please, dear angel, give me just a little more time. I want to help Charles paint againI want to restore all that I destroyed. Soon, I promise, he will be happy. Only then will I go with you.
The angel smiled softly, replying,
I need not take you away, Grace. You are already in Paradise. You have earned it. But let what you once suffered remind youHeaven may be closer than we can imagine.
Then, from inside the house, Charless voice floated out,
My love, its growing coldcome to bed. Tomorrow is a new day.
Grace smiled with relief and gratitude,
Yes Thank the Lord, tomorrow is a new day.
Let us reflect, as I often have:
You who complain about what you lackhave you considered how much you give?
You who sufferhave you pondered how much suffering you cause?
You who blame others for their ignorancehave you measured your own?
You who condemn the faults of othersdo you see the faults in yourself?
You who claim to be a true friendare you true to yourself?
You who lament what is missingdo you notice what is already yours?
You who judge the worldhave you done anything to better it?
You who yearn for Paradisehow much have you done to ease the hells around you?
You who boast of humilityare you genuinely humble?
You who denounce evildo you spread good?
You who bemoan indifferencedo you yourself show love?
You who fear povertydo you make good use of what you have?
You who are wounded by thornsdo you plant roses?
You who dread the darkdo you light a candle?
You who focus only on yourselfdo you care for others?
You who feel insignificantdo you strive to grow?
You who fear lonelinessdo you offer your company to another?
You who fear illnessdo you take care of your health?
You who wish for peacedo you challenge conflict?
Reflect well, for in these questions lie the path to finding our own Heaven, right here on earth.
