A beautiful reflection words fall short
There once was a woman named Margaret, who had lived unhappily with her husband, William, for many years. Their relationship had frayed to silence and bitterness. One evening, Margaret suffered a terrible heart attack. As she hovered at deaths door, an angel appeared before her and spoke gently: after weighing the deeds of her life, she could not yet enter Heaven. The angel offered her a brief return to the earth a handful of days to fulfil the measure of her good deeds. Margaret agreed, her heart heavy with regret, and returned to the small house she had shared with William in the outskirts of Birmingham.
William had barely spoken to her in months; their arguments had faded into cold indifference. He had been sleeping on the sofa, and she had long ago stopped cooking for him. That morning, as Margaret watched him press his shirt before leaving for work at the old mill, she thought:
I ought to make peace with him. He sleeps on that sofa, and I havent made him a meal in ages. Perhaps if I did something kind something unexpected.
When William left for the day, Margaret gathered his shirts and trousers, washed and pressed them with quiet care. She spent the afternoon cooking a warm supper, set out flowers from the garden and candles upon the kitchen table. On the sofa, she left a note:
I think youd be more comfortable sleeping in our bed the one that once belonged to both of us. The bed where love once brought our children into this world. The bed where we held each other through the dark and found comfort in one anothers arms. There is still love there, waiting for us. If you can find it in yourself to forgive me my faults meet me there.
Your wife
When she wrote the final line, If you can find it in yourself to forgive me my faults, a wave of resistance swept over her.
Am I mad? Why should I apologise? It was William who brought his anger home after losing his job at the mill, unable to find another. I had to stretch our savings, take care of the children, and endure his foul moods. Then he began drinking, perched for hours in that battered armchair, silencing the children when all they wanted was to play. He shouted at me when I said I couldnt go on. He destroyed everything and now Im to be the one to say sorry?
In frustration, Margaret tore up the letter. Just then, she heard the angels voice:
Remember just a few more kind deeds, and you will enter Heaven. Otherwise, it will be closed to you.
She sat for a long moment, reflecting. Was it truly worth it?
And then, slowly, she picked up her pen once more and wrote a second note, filled with gentleness and warmth:
I see now how blind I was. I didnt understand your fear when you lost your job after years of steady work. You must have been terrified. I remember your dreams, of how wed spend our retirement years together dreams I crushed by urging you to take a job as a driver, though you never wanted it.
I remember the night I burned your love letters and destroyed your paintings. I was angry that youd shut yourself away, wasting money on paints or scribbling poems you wrote for me. I ought to have tried to help you sell your art your paintings were beautiful. I, too, was scared. I only felt safe when you had work at the factory. I never saw your pain.
Forgive me, my beloved. I promise from today, things will change. I love you.
Your wife
When William returned from work that evening, he sensed at once that something was different. The aroma of a hot meal, the golden glow of candlelight, the strains of his favourite old English ballads drifting from the gramophone, and the note resting on the sofa.
Margaret stepped from the kitchen, carrying a steaming dish. She found William weeping quietly, like a child. She set down the food and wrapped him in her arms, tears mingling with his own. Neither needed words; together, they wept for all that was lost and the hope just rekindled. Then William took Margaret in his arms and carried her to the familiar old bed. They loved each other with all the fire and tenderness of newlyweds.
Later, they shared supper, laughing softly as they remembered the silly antics of their children, long since grown. When Margaret tidied the kitchen, she glanced through the frosty window into the moonlit garden and glimpsed the angel waiting amid the roses. She rushed outside, tears upon her cheeks.
Please, angel, let me stay a while longer. I want to help him paint again, to rebuild what I broke. I promise, happiness is just within reach. When he is truly at peace, I shall go with you.
The angel smiled. Theres no need to take you anywhere. You are already in Heaven. Youve earned your place. Only remember the hell you once lived for sometimes Heaven is closer than you know.
From the house, William called, Darling, come inside. Its cold out, and tomorrow is a new day.
She thought, Yes thank God, tomorrow is a new day.
A thought for reflection:
You who complain for what you lack have you considered how much you give?
You who endure suffering do you realise how you may cause suffering to others?
You who accuse the ignorant have you examined your own understanding?
You who condemn anothers mistake can you see your own?
You who pride yourself on friendship are you honest with yourself?
You who mourn whats missing do you see what you possess?
You who criticise the world have you done anything to make it better?
You who dream of Heaven how have you lessened the Hell around you?
You who call yourself humble are you truly modest in heart?
You who judge evil do you spread kindness?
You who lament apathy do you show love yourself?
You who fear poverty do you use well what you already have?
You who curse the thorns do you plant roses?
You who fear darkness do you ever light a candle?
You who dwell on yourself alone do you care for others?
You who feel small have you tried to grow?
You who fear loneliness do you offer your company to someone who needs it?
You who dread illness do you care for the health you possess?
You who long for harmony do you try to end strife?
