Jerry John

Making a Cursillo will always be the pinnacle of my conversion process, but it is not the highest mountain, nor did it necessarily come before the deepest valley of life.

On November 8, 1996, I encountered life in its barest element. Our son Eric died in an accident. Eric and I were so close and shared much. I watched him grow into manhood until his skills far surpassed mine. He was a better in dealing with customers than I was. I held him in the highest esteem. Yet in a moment, he was taken away. The searing pain cannot be described, nor need it be. Suffice to know that it was beyond anything I could ever have imagined.

God came quickly. Within an hour, Al Hlavin, my group partner called me at Eric’s neighbors house to give me his support. How he found me, I still don’t know. The outpouring of love and support from the church, Cursillo and the community was most consoling. It was truly the hand of God reaching out through his people to bring his love.

My dear friends, never underestimate the power of God working through you in these times. Please do not shrink from such a moment. Even more important is the need for your ongoing love. The pain of the grieving one has only begun. Healing is aided by the love that others bring. People fear hurting us again, or causing us to cry. My friends, you cannot hurt again, it is already there. You can only help to close the wound that cries out for love, support and prayer. That wounded heart cannot hear Christ through the silence of unspoken words. We need your lips to hear the words of Jesus.

How does one cope? The power of masses and prayers are beyond measure. Jesus spoke through so many open arms and tear soaked shoulders in church, the parking lot, or where ever. Thank you, my Lord, for the many ways you come to us in our hour of need.

What could I say to a God who would take my son in his youth _ and without his coming to know Jesus as I had been privileged do? On my first day at Mass back in Woodstock, I saw the statue of the Blessed Lady and my heart went to the foot of the cross. She said to me, "Come stand by me, my son. . . ." I started to pray the Lord’s prayer. I got to "Thy will be done . . ," and suddenly, I knew the rest of the story. Oh, how could I ever come to accept that truth when I hurt so much?

Through constant prayer, crying out the Lord, and in my Journaling, the Lord revealed many things about life, death, his love and his mercy. I have come to believe that to live is to die. We are born for one purpose; to go back to our creator after we have finished what HE has desired us to do _ not our plan, or our time frame, or in our way. There is no way to get back to God except through the door of death.

Then why does it hurt so much? Mostly, because we who remain must let go of that which we have loved so much. In one of my journalings the Lord said, " . . Let him go. He was never yours. He was always mine." Oh, with such plain words does the Lord speak. In his love, he returns all things to himself. His mercy? I cried out, "How could you do this, Lord?" and he said, "I died for all man and I save them all lest they deny me with full knowledge." More searching led me to Sister Faustina who tells how Jesus comes to all at the moment of death, and

they see him as the angels see him. Then, if they make the slightest move toward Jesus, he saves them all. My friends, how many times Jesus repeated that message to me until I have finally come to have enough faith for this small, broken, human heart to believe it. Thanks Lord, for your mercy and your love.

Healed? Sometimes I think so, only to find moments when I grieve and am depressed. Then, if I only remember to turn away from my self pity and give my pain to Jesus, I find peace again. The prayers of others help me to see again the wonders of God’s creating power shining through the fall colors, the smiles, and the love the comes through his people.

May God be Praised!

DeColores, Jerry John

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