Armada in the clouds going homeward tell Peter Hritiu that WWII was over

Aug. 14, 1945,    World War II

In the U.S. Navy

On board CVE 58   Aircraft carrier Corregidor           

Operating from Pearl Harbor.

It was evening.  Operations for pilot training had ceased for the day.  The weather was fair, the water was calm and the sky heavy with the mountains and puff of billowy clouds.  I was on the flight deck enjoying the quiet and having yet another look at what nature had to offer.  At first glance at the sea, there were no seagulls, no dolphins, nothing to see in the water.  My eyes lifted to the sky.  All of heaven was filled with clouds as far as the eye could see and they seemed to rest heavy on the horizon along the entire view from left to right.  It was pleasant providing shade and quieting the glare from the water.  The wind was quiet and the clouds floated easy, undisturbed, holding massive shapes.  Too many to count or describe except for their colors:  dark gray, light gray with patches of blue where the clouds allowed a peek at the sky.  

Suddenly, as though I was watching a movie, I saw silhouettes of ships in the clouds.  I saw a battleship, a cruiser, a destroyer, a troop ship, an aircraft carrier, and others.  A full armada going in the opposite direction of the enemy.

(Read the rest at Wtness.org)

Peter Hritiu

USN Sailor First Class

Written April 13, 2013

Rose cremated with body of Father Jack Trese emerges from furnace virtually unscathed

(this blog has grown up and is now a full website.  Please go instead to www.wtness.org.)
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Less than a week after his death on Oct. 20, 2004, longtime pastor of St. Columban Church in Birmingham, Michigan, the beloved Father John (Jack) Trese, was cremated.  A rose was put onto his casket by parishioner Kevin Degen, and the button to start the process was pushed, with much grief, by Jack’s longtime friend, Sister Mary Fran Gilleran, IHM, president of the IHM congregation in Monroe, Michigan.  Also in attendance was Pat Lynch, president and co-founder of the Clawson, Michigan site of Lynch & Sons Funeral Home.  Pat saw the rose go on.

Pat Lynch, Funeral Director

Father Jack Trese

About three hours later, after the furnace had burned its contents for that time period at 1700 degrees Fahrenheit, Pat Lynch was in attendance for the removal of the ashes.  He said to me by phone on Oct. 13, 2012, “When I retrieved Jack’s ashes from the crematory, I saw the very same rose that had gone in.  It was virtually unscathed.  It’s never happened before that I’ve ever heard of.  My reaction?  It was unbelievable.  Remarkable.  Quite a beautiful thing.  I don’t recall who else was present at the time, but Sister Mary Fran was not one of them."

(Read the rest at Wtness.org)

God helped without being asked. Gave caregiver energy to continue after the point of exhaustion.

She was stressed out from caregiving, but God helped

I once felt "led" to stop at a yard sale -- I walked around aimlessly but picked up two record albums and bought them for $1 each. One was a children’s record that was for physical education / dance instructors, the other was a Gaither Trio children’s record from 1980.

Later, I felt led to give them to a drama instructor at Lindenwood Christian Church who I didn't know very well. Feeling stupid I brought them to church not really knowing what to do, but had my opportunity, and oddly nervous I told him that I really didn't know why but I felt God wanted me to give him these two records.

He was really wowed and shocked and thought he was dreaming. They were HIS records that disappeared from a church office in 1989, and he was trying to get duplicates on eBay to no avail. He even showed me where he had attempted to write his name on one of them as a child. He had prayed that God would help him find these records on the internet.

Rarely are miracles this obvious. Just a chance meeting in the street or meeting the right person in an unlikely place, or an unlikely/impossible chain of events that others don't believe, are examples.

A Grace of God… is something that could not have happened without God's intervention.

(Read the rest at Wtness.org)

How long does Love last?

On the birthday anniversary of my recently deceased Mother in July, I went to her gravesite in Rochester Hills, Michigan at the Guardian Angels cemetery.  When I went, I was not exactly sure why I wanted or needed to go.  Sure, I’m a person who believes in the afterlife, but I’m also a pragmatist, and not much of a sentimentalist.  I think: “Since my Mom’s current life is as a soul in the afterlife, the body she left behind is no more than an empty container… it’s not the real her.  I can’t see that body anyway.  It’s in a grave.  Also, I can remember her from anywhere on the planet, and if spirits can hear humans, then she can hear me from anywhere.  So I was not really sure why I went. 

When I stood over her grave (and the grave of my departed father and my brother Jim), I thought, unsentimentally:  “Hmm, the grass above their graves is pretty dry, sparse and has weeds.  I might pull the weeds.  But what would that matter to any humans on this earth?  Would that really matter to my Mom, Dad, and Jim?  That seems so incidental.  It affects nothing.  Very few if any family members come here.  If I did care for the grass, would I be doing it so that the rare visitors would have a better experience?   Doesn’t it seem that the same minutes could be better spent doing something for my own immediate family members, who are still alive?”

While I was thinking about that, a Chrysler Minivan pulled up several tens of yards away, and an old short man walked out and over to a six foot tall black curved-top marble monument with some Greek name on it.  He made the sign of the cross on himself, indicating to me that he was either Catholic or Orthodox.  I wondered what he thought as he motioned that hand pattern.  Did it help him in some way?  Did it help his dead relative in some way?  Did it help God in some way?   It seemed not valuable.  (I’m being difficult in this posting to set up a contrast.  Of course I see value in it, but not in the way that most people define value… it’s a confirmation of my own beliefs to me and to my God)...  

(Read the rest at Wtness.org)

It was like there was an orchestra conductor in the sky

In the first blog post of March 13,  I mentioned that I’d write two stories about real-life coincidences that indicate to me the love of Jesus in the days before my Mom's death, because someone was provided exactly what they needed in a surprise way.  This is the second of those stories.

It was on the day that, looking back, was the first day of my Mom’s one-week-long dying process.  Things started happening very quickly and very unexpectedly. People normally describe a day like that as a day when ‘All hell broke loose’.  But above it all, it became clear to me that also on that same day, ‘All heaven broke loose’.   

 
It was Monday, Feb. 27, 2012.  My Mom had revealed to us a week earlier, when she could no longer hide it, that she had developed breast cancer about nine months earlier, and wanted no doctor’s involvement.

I was at work. At a pre-agreed time (11:20am), I called my Mom to see if she was OK.  No answer.  She told me not to worry if that were to happen, since she may be in the bathroom, and to call back in an hour.  So I did.  No answer.  I started cancelling my afternoon appointments and called a third time to tell her on the answering machine I’d be there in 30 minutes. That 30 minute drive started out a mental maelstrom for me, imagining my mother crumpled at the bottom of her stairs, bleeding from a horrible fall, and other unpleasant possibilities.

I began to pray out loud to Jesus, saying, “Lord, help me be able to handle what I find.”...

 

 (Read the rest at Wtness.org)

My Mom died 10 days ago. Why do I love God more?

On March 3, my mother died.  It rocked me. This woman who raised me from an infant; who poured herself into the care and formation of her four children… was no longer on this world.  We each need a mother.  I no longer had mine.

For many days prior to her passing and many days after her passing, I found myself overwhelmed by the quickly rising waters of sadness.  On three occasions, I broke down while other people were present.  Once it was in the middle of church. (I think it embarrassed my wife, who simultaneously put her arm on  me to show her support). 

I could keep the sadness at bay a number of ways:  By working to increase her comfort in her final days; by working to arrange the funeral with my siblings immediately after she passed; by working on cleaning the decades of accumulated flotsam out of her house while all of us were still in town; by eating more; by sleeping when I couldn’t get mental relief; by trying to have some laughs with friends about nonsense.  But none of these controlled the sadness for long.  Before long it found a new way in.

Why in the middle of this sadness do I find I’m closer to God?  Isn’t my belief in God grounded in the idea that he will remove all sadness, and will replace it with a mindless sickeningly sweet joy?  No. I’ve gotten to know Him now for a few decades, and I know Him better with each passing year and with each passing difficulty and success...

(Read the rest at Wtness.org)

Bible verse directly answered her dead friend's question

During August, I had resolved to read a chapter of John’s gospel a day. On the day I was due to read Chapter 16, a call came telling me one of my most cherished friends had died that afternoon.  As I hung up the phone, I repeated to my husband the question my friend had raised in the course of our last conversation.  “I wonder if all our questions will be answered when we get to heaven,” she had said, “or if we will have no more questions…”

With her words echoing through my thoughts, I went off alone.  I took my bible with me since there was still a chapter of John to read that day.  I spoke to my friend in prayer and wept for the conversations we would never have again.  I wondered if all her questions were answered, now that she was in heaven.  Finally, I opened John’s gospel to where I’d left off the day before and there I read the following verse:

“You are sad for a time, but I will see you again.  Then your hearts will rejoice with a joy no one can take from you. On that day you will have no questions to ask me.”  ...



(Read the rest at Wtness.org)

Brigid Geroux

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The Lord's sense of humor, a mute man, and the sports section

This blog posting was submitted by the same man who wrote the Jan. 24, 2012 posting, “Feed My Sheep”.

I'm offering this experience because it has given me a personal insight into the Lord's sense of humor.

The Lord and I have had a love affair since I was a child because I have always felt the Lord's touch in my life. I have been blessed to have very holy parents but I have also known many truly spiritual people who entered my life briefly and positively influenced many of my life choices. I have always asked questions. Homilies, class lessons and reading assignments answered my questions while I was a student.

In the early 1970's I had just resolved a crisis of faith which led me to accept a role I had previously relegated to ordained people. Although I was certain that I loved God, I had lots of insecurities concerning my worthiness to become an active Catholic Christian lay person. (This was a time when we were losing lots of religious people and suddenly, there were much fewer ordained individuals to teach religion, visit the sick, and distribute the Eucharist.) Although I had theology and religion classes in high school and college I was very uncomfortable abandoning the passive lay person role I had accepted before I began sharing my religious beliefs as a CCD instructor (Christian Doctrine for school aged kids), bringing the Eucharist to the sick and volunteering to visit the sick. I was one conflicted, uptight person when I started.

"Friendly Visitor" was the title given at St Mark's parish in Catonsville, MD to volunteers who ministered to the aged and sick patients at local nursing homes. My first patient was a very ill paralyzed gentleman who was in obvious pain and who was attached to monitoring, IV tubes and breathing devices. He was dying, suffering, and unable to communicate besides. Fortunately, we were taught how to engage patients in discussion and to elicit responses from patients who were unable to speak by using eye blinks: one for no and two for yes...

(Read the rest at Wtness.org)

Unconventional Hope for a Heart Transplant Patient

An acquaintance named Craig, a man with grey hair and a low upbeat voice, told this story yesterday. Craig has a friend who has needed a heart transplant to survive.  He has been waiting for a judgement from his cardiologists at a renowned Michigan hospital, and finally had a visit with them.  They gave him what for anybody else would have been considered a death sentence:  "You are not a candidate for heart transplantation".

The patient's response was puzzling to me, but appealing.  Craig said that his friend said "Thank you Jesus, Thank you Jesus.  I don't know what your plans are for me, but I accept them.  I know you will continue to be with me the whole way."

What kind of man would react that way?  Either a madman, or a man who really trusts.

I don't pretend to know what went through his head.  But because my acquaintance Craig is not a madman, I suspect neither is the heart patient.  To me, he sees "the future" as having a longer time horizon than just the time spent here on Earth.

Doctor Death - Jack Kevorkian

From June 6, 2011

I was glad when on Christian Radio AM 990, Al Kresta told a story about the vast difference of perception about human life between Dr. Jack Kevorkian (the late advocate of assisted suicide) and an Alzheimer’s caregiver.  Al said that when he interviewed Kevorkian in the late 80’s, Jack said that an Alzheimer’s patient was "a cipher, a zero, a nothing".  Coincidentally, the very next person being interviewed by Al was an Alzheimer’s caregiver.  That man said that the Alzheimer’s patient was certainly a human being to the very end.  Al summarized it as the difference between a Satanic (I don't like the strong adjective chosen, but that's what Al said) and a Samaritan point of view on life.  The Satanic point of view diminishes the importance of life and hope in the quality of the future life.  Satan finds any method of introducing doubt and despair.  In so doing, he can cast doubt on the value of God in that life. 
The Samaritan views what is coming with hope.  The hope of Christ.  And find value in life.

Dr. Jack Kevorkian

Al Kresta