Josie,

"...Who knows why I am still this shell with the hemorrhaging, pulsating heart, waiting for peace."

I know of the hemorrhaging heart. Such a completely appropriate phrase. Dear sweet Josie, as you have surmised, you are here to bless others. The best I can figure out is those of us who remain, who survive the storms of insurmountable loss are here to learn, to grow, to become and to bless with our presence. Why me Lord? How many times have we asked ourselves that? How much can I take, Lord? Like Popeye always said, "I've had all I can stand and I can't stands no more." And yet it keeps coming. To live, to agree to live now, is to experience loss. To learn, to love, to become all that we can be, means to be immersed in pain at least some of the time. How can we ever expect to understand the needs of others, how can we ever hope to be of help to other hemorrhaging hearts, if we haven't gone through it in someway ourselves.

My mother-in-law, Elizabeth, was in concentration camp in WWII. Her husband was in Hilter's army, although they lived in Yugoslavia. Many in her family were killed. She escaped the camp all by herself, carrying her daughter who was one month old. She depended on the kindness of strangers, her supposed enemies. She stopped at farm houses and spent the night with these people. When she and the baby made it back home, her home had been destroyed. She temporarily had to leave the baby with the nuns in a nearby convent, so she could work. When the war was over Elizabeth, her daughter and a son, the person who became my husband, moved to this country to start a new life. After all her losses, her husband took up with another woman. Not speaking English, she got a job in a factory that made zippers. Her mother, who came with her, told Elizabeth constantly that she was worthless. The mother asked her why she, a mere woman had survived, when her brother had died. Her mother told Elizabeth, that it would have been better if she had died. Even so, Elizabeth continued to live with this mother; there were few economic choices at the time. She rose to a position of power in the zipper company. She met a man she loved who loved her. When circumstances finally allowed them to marry, he died suddenly of pancreatic cancer. Elizabeth is now 85. She was a good loving mother to my husband. She taught him to respect women. She taught him so many good things...because from her hardships and heartaches, she learned.

As we walk this painful life, we have a choice to become all we are capable of becoming and to develop the highest way of being - to become love.

You are becoming. You are a blessing to those around you. As you apply this knowledge to your ruptured heart, it will heal you - a little at a time.

My dearest love to you,
Vi