Do You Believe?

A few weeks ago, I had the honor of participating in my brother’s wedding, as an usher. Why not best man, you ask? Been there and done that—let’s just say we both agreed that another best man selection was in order this time around, given the unfortunate results of my bro’s first wedding.

I have mentioned in previous posts (and videos) that this celebration was thrown together in a short period of time due to medical circumstances that I will not elaborate on in this post. Let me just say that in little more than a month’s time, my brother and his amazing bride created a memorable, spectacular, and emotional event that had the look and feel of years of planning.

But something else occurred that day, an event that borders on the otherworldly, hints at Divine Intervention, and whispers of miracle.

Now do I have your attention?

My father was taken from our family way too early—gone from this earth in his mid-50’s, the victim of heavy cigarette and alcohol addictions that left him gasping for breath through emphysema-ravaged lungs. His death changed my life. It was not long after he died that I took control of my own self-destructive habits and turned my life around. But this post is not about my life, it is about my father…and how he may have attended my brother’s wedding.

After days of worrying about the possibility of rain ruining things, the day turned out to be spectacular—a vital factor for an outdoor wedding. The venue was stunning: one of the oldest hotels on a scenic island in the littlest state in the Union. With the shimmering bay and majestic bridge as a backdrop, the wedding party stood excited and ready before hundreds of well-wishers. Dark clouds rolled in, but not to dampen the spirit of the day, but instead arrived to offer a protective canopy of shade from the harsh sun.

I was relaxed, content, happy to be standing beside my brother, enjoying the ceremony, offering an occasional glance at family and friends in the crowd. Everything was going well, everything was normal…when overhead I heard the drone of an engine, barely noticeable at first, then gradually building in intensity. Being on public display, I didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony with any overt actions or gestures, but as the noise built and it became obvious what was causing it—a jet, seemingly from out of nowhere, buzzing the quietude—I couldn’t help myself.

I surreptitiously canted my head and caught sight of the plane as it burst through a gray cloud and soared into a sea of blue, the sun glinting off one wing, which seemed to tilt just as my eyes made contact with it.

As the jet motored across the partially cloudy sky, and the words of the wedding ceremony sang in my ears, an almost surreal sensation overcame me—Dad! That was my father in that jet plane! A sad and satisfied smile tugged at the corners of my mouth and, as the plane’s engines sounds began to fade into the background, I returned my focus and attention back to the wedding.

My father flew jets in the Navy. He was one of those brave pilots who land on aircraft carriers in the middle of the ocean. When he left the service, he flew small prop planes. (One of my biggest childhood thrills was going up in one of those planes and my dad allowing me to “co-pilot” the aircraft.)

A few hours into the wedding reception, I ran into my uncle, my father’s brother. He asked if I had noticed the jet flying over during the ceremony. In a flash, the image of that plane, and all those strange sensations associated with its sudden appearance at my brother’s wedding, came rushing back to me. I told my uncle I had seen it, why?

“I thought of your father,” he said. “In fact, I thought it was your father.”

An eerie chill sent my flesh vibrating.

“So did I,” I told him.

We looked at each other, both of us realizing the absurdity of our wishful thinking, while sharing a secret smile of hope and dreams and faith that perhaps it was not so far-fetched after all.

“Because,” my uncle added, “this is not a normal flyover route, you know. And there was no air traffic before the wedding and none since that jet. Strange, huh?”

You don’t know the half of it.

Much later on that long and happy day, in the wee hours of the morning, I reiterated to my brother my conversation with our uncle, as well as my own observations about that lone jet. He said he’d not noticed the jet, but was elated to think that it could have been dad. In fact, he said he had no doubt that it must have our father. (Of course, he had been partying a bit.) Then he added this bombshell: his new bride’s father (also no longer of this world) also flew jets! It was not only our dad in that ethereal plane, but her father too.

As my brother rushed off, jubilation and awe painting his over-celebrated face, to share this revelation with this new bride, I sat back and reflected on the day…on that moment.

Was it real?

Did it happen?

Was it only a jet gliding overhead, oblivious to the events below?

Or was it…?

Because, after all, what is faith but the belief in something we are unable to prove exists.

Think about it.

peace,

Mike

Happy Belated Father's Day

I am reposting one of my favorite blog entries: This Is Your Time On Earth.
Yesterday's blog, you may have seen, was written by my first Guest Blogger. I hope you read and enjoy my friend Eric's thoughtful post, reflecting on the life and sudden passing of Tim Russert. When someone we love dies, it is always a painful occasion, but when they leave us much too soon, it becomes tragic, all the more difficult to understand and digest. Tim was only fifty-eight; he had a lot of life left to live. My father died at around the same age. It's so ironic that Mr. Russert's death occurred during the weekend when we all take time to think about and honor the man who means the world to most of us.

Every Father's Day weekend is a difficult time for me. I miss my dad every day, and he has been gone now for close to twenty years, as hard as that is for me to fathom. But one thing I have learned over those years is that while life all too often is filled with challenges and hardship, devastation and, sadly, death, we must find within us the will and passion and determination to live each day to its fullest. Every day, no matter what. Every day, as if it could be our last. That is the gist of this post. Please enjoy:

This Is Your Time On Earth

How much time do any of us have? Time on earth? Eight decades, if we're lucky, maybe nine? When you're in your twenties, eighty or ninety years of life seems like a lot of time, doesn't it? And it is, I guess, from a twenty-something's point of view. How about for folks like myself, in their early 50's? Eighty years looks a bit less large. In fact, it looks like a number that is fast approaching and too close to just around the corner.

No matter your age or how eighty or ninety years looks to you in the scheme of things, the purpose of this blog entry (and the attached video, for those who prefer watching and listening versus reading) is to emphasize the importance of time. More to the point: our time on earth. Because no matter if you live to 100 or leave this rock way too early, the thing that will shape your days while alive, as well as fill those days with purpose and meaning, is what you do along the way. What you do each and every day.

Life is precious. Like is boring. Life is amazing. Life is difficult. Life is fun. Life is horrible. Life is happy. Life is sad. Life is the most beautiful thing in the world. Life...is life. There are things that occur every second in this world that make us cringe, shake our heads, cry, and wonder how this could possibly be happening. And yet during that same day, if we are lucky, life will show us how utterly wonderful it is: a cute puppy, a random act of kindness or heroism, a stunning sunset, the love of another human being. My point is this: no matter what life is handing you or how the problems of the world make you feel, you have an obligation to yourself, to the rest of the six billion souls who inhabit this planet. You have to try. Work hard. Strive to be the best you can be. Be kind, caring, considerate. Work to right wrongs, help others, set a good example. But mostly, you have to make YOUR LIFE as complete and fulfilling as possible. By doing all that YOU can to make a difference, to leave a positive mark, to grow and learn and take personal accountability for your actions, to balance your mind, body, and spirit, you are taking care of self. And if everyone did just that--made themselves the best person possible--the world would be that much better a place. Now I'm not saying all that is wrong with this world will suddenly be right, but a lot of it will be. Think about it.

But remember, be it ten years or one hundred, this is YOUR time on earth. And what I feel when I think about that is this: I do not want to waste it. I will not allow anyone or anything to stand in the way of all I want to do during my time here. I embrace this time on earth because it is MY time; as it is YOUR time. And as for me, I want to leave a mark, a legacy, a positive impact. Make my eight or nine, hopefully, ten decades the best they can be. And when I close my eyes at night and it's just me and my higher power, I want to be able to say that I worked hard every day, tried to make a difference, helped others as best I could, and lived my life during my time here on earth to its fullest. And I want you to be able to do the same.

peace,

Mike