The Unknown

I was raised in church while I was growing up. My Father was the music director and had a wealth of knowledge about the Bible. We were southern Baptist and did not follow the liberal Baptist who believed in speaking in tongues, jumping up and down and other weird things. I am not mocking any religion and do not try to force my beliefs on others. If you don't believe in it, don't do it, is my basic belief. During my early teens I became very interested in the teachings of Paul. What intrigued me was how Paul was converted from killing Christians to becoming the most prolific writer in the New Testament. I have a base belief and I believe that is why I am struggling so much with what is happening to me now and past episodes of terror filled dreams, nightmares would be a better word. As I spoke about my first interaction with angels, yesterday, I want to relay to you another episode with spiritual beings. In 1989 I was a couple months shy of my thirtieth birthday. I received the horrible news that my best friend and older brother had been involved in a very serious automobile accident. My mother and I rushed to the hospital emergency room and was told by the ER staff that someone would be out to speak with us, soon. My mother sat in a chair in the ER waiting area while I stood at the sliding glass doors where you enter the emergency room. I could see a cubicle with a curtain pulled closed and I could see the feet of several staff. As the curtain opened as a staff member exited I noticed the patient was wearing MAST trousers. They are no longer used in the emergency medical field. It was an acronym for military anti-shock trousers. I knew in my gut that was my brother lying there and I knew it was very serious. I called all my immediate family and told them to get to the ER fast, it was Bubba and it doesn't look good. After about 45 minutes the doctor and a couple nurses came out and delivered a blow like none I had ever known. My brother, my best friend was dead. My mom sat down in total shock not saying a word. I, however, went ballistic. I punched all the glass out of the waiting room and ripped up chairs that were bolted to the floor. I was given a sedative and was taken back to have both arms sutured. I did not get any better when my Dad arrived and was given the news. My heart had been ripped out of my chest watching my Dad and how he handled the terrible news. It was march 3, 1989 and my faith came into question. Why would a loving God put such a good man as my Dad through the pain of losing his namesake? I did not understand why. The next morning at about 3am while my wife and small children were asleep my brother appeared to me and told me to tell Mom and Dad that everything was good. He was in a wonderful place. He had no more pain. I broke down and wept. To this day I wish that my brother would visit me, again. Maybe he has crossed over and is unable to come back. I also believe that the colonel has not, for some reason, not crossed over. He feels that I had betrayed him and he will haunt me, forever. I wish he would let it go. thank you theblogmeister please donate