‘So this is the Veil Room,’ Chet said. ‘There seems to be no division in time as there are people from every historical perspective…Why, I even saw a caveman,’ Chet smiled. ‘So if this is the transition room, is this the next step, or have we been in it for our lives as we know them?’ Chet asked. ‘Pope Francis is washing the feet of the poor, and both are lost in a vortex of time,’ Chet noted. ‘I see myself as a child and a man and an old man in a glimpse of an eye,’ Chet marveled. ‘I am in a first-grade classroom at Hillcrest School with Billy B, and the teacher is asking me to take my hat off and place it in the cloak room…I wondered what the cloak room was for a moment,’ Chet mused. ‘Billy B and I are playing with our western action figures, and I have Daniel Boone, who is fashioned after the actor Fess Parker,’ Chet grinned. ‘Next to the house in Parish Addition in the early 60s is my accounting business where I am a success and have many employees,’ Chet marvelled. ‘When I turn my head, I am in the rest home with a nurse helping me eat my supper,’ Chet said sadly.

‘Well, we were playing Hide and Seek and God asked if he could play,’ Neva J said. ‘He laughed and said our adventure would reveal more than we had bargained for, and we would have more questions when the journey was complete,’ Neva J winked. ‘I have wanted to peek behind the Veil all my life, and suddenly we had the opportunity to do so,’ Neva J said. ‘The experience is like Deja vu with funhouse mirrors,’ Neva J explained. ‘There is peace behind the Veil,’ Neva J observed. ‘Behind the Veil reveals the many misconceptions we have had of death,’ Neva J said softly. ‘We are players on a great stage and the play never ends,’ Neva J spoke with assurance. ‘Our role in the Great Drama is a permanent one, it does not end with transition…it continues with profound purpose,’ Neva J said with tears in her eyes.

‘When I first looked behind the Veil, I felt I had been there before,’ Jane said. ‘There was mom and dad and all the memories of home…But I was living them behind the Veil,’ Jane questioned. ‘Was I in the Great Foyer of the Secret of the Ages…or had I been in it for my life and just now understood where I was,’ Jane asked?

‘The Great Doors fascinate me,’ Billy B said. ‘I do not remember coming in them, but I see people going out of them,’ Billy B mentioned. ‘Do you suppose it is the long hall of white light leading to Heaven?’ Billy B asked? ‘Is God at the other end of the brilliant hall with his arms outstretched and saying Welcome home, my child,’ Billy B postulated. ‘Or could it be you are a baby being born all over again…there is mom and dad and everything is new,’ Billy B smiled. ‘Are we looking for Superman and the Marvel Superheros, or are we surrounded by God daily and fail to notice our sense of place in his plan,’ Billy B said.

The great Doors opened slowly. ‘Who is ready for a terrific train ride?’ the Conductor asked. ‘In five minutes we depart for the answer to the Secret,’ the Conductor said with aplomb. ‘God is the Engineer and has been looking forward to our Holiday together,’ the Conductor announced. ‘Bring your furry friends with you as they will enjoy the journey,’ the Conductor said with a wide smile…

We are told that faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. Comforting words as we play hide and seek. We are actors in the Big Mystery. Where did we come from, and when do we leave? How could our world be so majestic and awe-inspiring by chance? Or…how could there be so much human suffering with a benevolent God at the controls?

‘I will count to 10 and you hide,’ Jane exclaimed. ‘I may peek,’ Jane laughed. ‘I like to read the end of a novel before I start it,’ Jane winked. ‘Be sure to hide where I can find you,’ Jane said.

‘I have always liked hide and seek, it is a mystery exercise,’ Chet mused. ‘There are so many places to become invisible to others,’ Chet commented. ‘Some nights Dad comes to me in my dreams and tells me that he will see me soon,’ Chet said softly.

‘Why hello there,’ Neva J said with a witty smile. ‘I was wondering when you would return here,’ she continued. ‘I have been puttering around in what seems to be a great foyer to a mansion,’ Neva J said with a smile. ‘Many people are coming through and then moving on out of the far doors at the end of the grand hall,’ Neva J said. ‘We all stop when we hear the bell that signifies God’s voice,’ Neva J informed. ‘It sounds like rushing waters and whiporwills to me,’ she said.

‘What is on the other side of the doors at the end of the great hall?’ Billy B asked. ‘Is that where the answer is to the Secret?’ he continued. ‘By the way, where is this Neva J?’ Billy B asked.

‘This is the Veil Room…we are behind the Veil,’ Neva J said. ‘This is where you come when you transition,’ she continued. ‘The people coming and going seem to be from all periods and centuries,’ Neva J said with a flourish. ‘I saw Kublai Khan and Mother Theresa walking hand in hand out by the coy pond the other day,’ Neva J grinned. ‘The Veil Room has no symmetrical limits, it is unending, but always the doors at the end of the great hall are in view,’ Neva J said with tears in her eyes. ‘Many live full lives in the Veil Room as they study infinity,’ Neva J noted. ‘They finally walk through the doors and we do not see them any longer,’ Neva J mused.

‘Time for supper,’ Neva J called out. ‘Tomorrow we will peek behind the Veil again,’ Neva J laughed a wonderful laugh.

Rain is a constant companion. We live in Dickensian times. Scrooge has all he wants, and Bob Cratchit shivers in the office. The miracles of capitalism are complete for a select few. Many ask for a crust of bread.

Stand in line for homage time. We owe our success to a select few. They must have their due. They love praise, and it is difficult to produce it fast enough. The need for approval is great, and the thirst is insatiable.

We are not doomed to repeat history; we rewrite it like a bad Play. A remake is in the works, and it will be better than the first. No more history of persecution of Native Americans. We Europeans were benevolent to the people here before us. We gave them select land. They have casinos.

Hitler won. He had stealth agents to take our country from within. Oppression is popular if you are the oppressor. It is good to be the King.

Slavery was on-the-job training. Kind landowners took African Americans under their wing and trained them in useful work. What a country of blond, blue-eyed super-humans. Now we provide sanctuary for the persecuted white folks who have not had an advocate until recently. Happy days are here again.

A little girl cries in the street. Hungry, cold, and nowhere to go. A little boy holds his sister’s hand. He is trying to protect her while he needs protection.

‘Bring in the clowns, we gotta have clowns.’The circus is in town. The poor sit in the cheap seats as usual. The new clowns are in town. Their humor is slapstick. Real pain is part of their new Vaudiville act.

A clear day with blue sky. All the world is an open book. Full of possibilities, the horizon is as far as the eye can see. I pondered my first time at the restaurant and considered it well…55 years since my first Italian Beef Sandwich bought from the side window in the alley. My cousin Billy and I traveled from Eldorado to Elkville to attend church. Church was a big deal, as was the Italian beef sandwich. DuQuoin was a happening place in those halcyon days. It was a Mecca to me. I subscribed to the DuQuoin Evening Call newspaper when I lived in Eldorado. DuQuoin had Green’s IGA, and Mr. Green, the owner, greeted me warmly every time I entered his grocery. I felt like I was somebody.

I had somewhat older friends who worked in DuQuoin, the two Michaels. Both Jewish and from Chicago. One Michael worked at a Camper Business, and the other worked for a Candy Vendor. Through the Michaels, I met my friend for life, Jeff. All three had been hippies. Through our friendship, I learned of other places besides Southern Illinois.

Emlings’ cafe was open all night, which was unusual for 1970. Mornings, we traveled to DuQuoin for biscuits, gravy, and more. An extraordinary adventure for a lad of 13 to eat and take in the sights of those who breakfast at 3:00 am.

Spring colors were pervasive. Excellent food and drink. Jennifer was with us and made the day complete. Laughter and easy living. A good day for time travel…

We drove to DuQuoin along highway #51, as we reflected on Tom’s Place, which was recently torn down. It was a historical landmark that had begun as a Speakeasy during Prohibition. Inside the establishment were several rooms that had once had secret doors to quickly escape the police if a raid occurred. We noted the changes in time and the loss of history.

‘I say it is a cold winter’s night,’ Chet exclaimed. ‘Winter may have just begun, but it feels like it has settled in for the long haul,’ Chet continued. ‘I remember Mom sitting by the window on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa Claus,’ Chet smiled. ‘Her dedication to Santa was complete,’ Chet noted. ‘My watching her by that window with the red candle in it caused me to know that St. Nick was the genuine article,’ Chet winked. ‘Our Christmas Tree could be seen behind her in the living room,’ Chet commented. ‘When I saw the red candle in the window, my heart was happy.. Mom was waiting for me to come home for Christmas,’ Chet reminisced.

‘Neva J loved the Christmas Lights of Eldorado,’ Billy B said. ‘Each year we would drive slowly through town and admire the festive glow,’ Billy B smiled. ‘Her face was the brightest light at Christmas,’ Billy B observed. ‘Neva J waited for me each day as I rode the bus home from school,’ Billy B recalled. ‘I could rely on her to be home to greet me as she rested before preparing supper,’ Billy B said.

‘Times are hard and things are bad,’ Jane said. ‘It seems the light has gone and we are foraging in darkness,’ Jane continued. ‘When Mom was here, I knew what to do,’ Jane said. ‘Mom had an unshakeable sense of place,’ Jane laughed. ‘When trouble arose, the warmth of the kitchen lights and the coal stove in the corner warmed the little table,’ I had many pieces of holiday coffee cake sitting at that table with Mom’s radiant, calm face,’ Jane beamed. ‘Mom caused worry to evaporate with her quiet, calm love,’ Jane whispered.

‘It is quite a slippery road we are on, and we slid onto a side road that I did not know was here,’ Billy B observed as the car abruptly stopped. ‘I see a red candle in the window and the glowing lights of a Christmas Tree in the background,’ Billy B observed.

‘The news on the car radio said that President and Mrs. Kennedy extended Merry Christmas wishes to everyone,’ Jane said with a quizzical look of happy lights in her eyes.

When we were born, the hourglass was turned over, and the sand began to trickle. The movie of our life had begun, and we were a bit player on the silver screen. Life is much too slow; we must learn to crawl and walk. The halcyon days of youth were lost on us as adulthood beckoned. Hurry, do not be late, we heard. Daylight is burning. Places to go and people to see. Speed is success. Not a moment to waste. Decisions became ours to make. Our world became a self-generating bubble of opportunity. Others were in our peripheral vision, and their forms were blurred.

Change is afoot. You can see it, you can feel it. Life is a hurricane with a calm and serene eye. When we are in the eye, we feel peace. When the wind is howling and the hail is hitting our earthen structure, we want to be time travellers. Let us go back to calmer times and safer places. When we were in those glowing days of yore, did we realize our sense of place?

Neva J lived through the Great Depression. She and her siblings foraged for berries in the woods to eat. She and Dad married when he returned from the Pacific Theatre of World War II. It was a time to grab life by the stack-and-swivel as the Big Bands played swing music.

I would like More, please, we say like Oliver Twist. We hurry to enjoy the fruits of the tree of life and let the juice drip off our chins. The sand in the hourglass is diminishing.

Quiet is what we need. Reflection is required. Patience possesses our souls. Most pervasive problems resolve, and as the days pass, we tend to forget how we felt when we could think of nothing else. Remind us, dear Lord.

‘But there shall not a hair of your head perish. In your patience possess ye your souls.’

Pope Francis’ dedication to the poor, voiceless, and forgotten touched my heart. He was inspirational. Now, Pope Leo XIV is our first American Pope. Pope Leo hails from Chicago. I was born there and lived there until I was 5 years old.

Pope Francis was a force for good, and I believe Pope Leo XIV will continue that good and necessary work. Our world cries out for a voice for the poor and disenfranchised of Earth. Christ’s message was to the invisible of the land. Those who did not have the money or power to be noticed. Those who appeared different from the accepted or ‘In Crowd’, which these days includes many politicians who say what their constituents require of them. A fat wallet was never Jesus’ requirement to enter the kingdom of Heaven.

‘And the common people heard him gladly.’ Servant Leadership inspires. Humility compels action. Giving with no plan or hope of seeking recompense or acknowledgment is golden.

There is the facsimile and there is the real thing. Some pretend to have Christ’s mind, and some follow his humble way. The difference is night and day. Some shut the door to the needy, cold, and shunned. Some open the door wide to all who seek help and a balm of Gilead.

Pain in words never leaves you. Being called hurtful names and rejected leaves wounds. The balm is loving others who have been treated similarly.

Answers we seek. Pain is everywhere. It is too big for any of us. It is just right for one person at a time.

‘Neva J, you are a saint,’ Abigail said to her friend. ‘No one would speak to me in town until you came,’ Abigail noted. ‘They call me One Eye as a joke and for a laugh as I lost my eye in an accident years ago,’ Abigail said. ‘You see me as I believe God sees me,’ Abigail cried joyfully. ‘My husband and I performed in Vaudeville and were happy and carefree until our automobile accident when he was killed and I lost my eye,’ Abigail recounted. ‘We were on the stage in Chicago and did two shows a day, seven days a week,’ Abigail said. ‘After the accident, my friends left me as I became depressed for a long time, Abigail whispered.

‘You are my family,’ Neva J said. ‘I have adopted you as my sister,’ Neva J continued. ‘Where I go, you go and we will stay until we need to come home,’ Neva J smiled and winked. ‘If I go to a fine restaurant, you will sit next to me and we will order like there is no tomorrow,’ Neva J danced on one foot and then another. ‘When someone calls you an ugly name, they are calling me an ugly name,’ Neva J said somberly.

My friend said Give what you would give to me to another who is more needy. My friend is a Servant Leader…

Reversals are a way of life for most. Best laid plans suddenly go awry. Paula Abdul sang about One Step Forward and Two Steps Back.

When buffeted by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, we want to reflect on what we did wrong rather than move forward. If we look around, we are on the high diving board and preparing to make our Olympic Dive. As former Olympian Greg Louganis would tell us, the dive at hand is the focus, not the one previously where we hit our head on the diving board.

What appears to be a dark night of the soul is the beginning of a bright new day. We are in the long game. It is a marathon, not a sprint.

We are engaged in a Herculean struggle. All of us make mistakes. Make the best of errors and triumph over adversity.

Never let the bastards get you down…

‘I wonder if I will ever amount to much,’ Chet said. ‘I have these thick glasses and am overweight,’ Chet added. ‘Some of the kids make fun of me, Chet reflected. ‘They tell me why try, you have been dealt a bad hand of cards, you are a loser,’ Chet recounted. ‘I know I can succeed and apply myself to accounting and am good at it,’ Chet smiled. ‘The numbers are like family to me, we understand each other,’ Chet smiled. ‘No one can take my education from me,’ Chet beemed.

‘I must take our taxes to Chet,’ Billy B said. ‘Although he is the head of a billion-dollar accounting firm, he still does my taxes,’ Billy B reflected. ‘Chet did not let the naysayers get him down, he did not quit, he succeeded,’ Billy B proclaimed.

Maestro gives Kramer a balm for a burn he received from hot coffee on an episode of Seinfeld. The balm heals the coffee burn to Kramer’s dismay. Jackie Childs Kramer’s lawyer berates Kramer for using a balm when they had a lawsuit against the restaurant that sold Kramer the hot coffee. Such is the nature of a balm.

We need a balm. Our days are full of burns and bites and often infestations of mites. A balm is soothing. The old hymn tells us, ‘There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole; There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul.’ The song says, ‘If you cannot sing like angels, If you can’t preach like Paul, You can tell the love of Jesus, And say he died for all.’

Many of us need a balm of Gilead; we are hurting from oppression and the heavy yoke of bondage. We seek justice from the government only to find malignant neglect. The church says Give me your money, and suddenly you will be rich. It is like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Yet the scalding burns of hot rhetoric and cold comfort do not heal the wounds.

Leaders who change directions midday are difficult to follow. Mania is a monster of a friend. The combination of narcissism and idolatry leaves the body weak. Proclamations from the proud do not bring peace. The scales of justice are weighted.

We watch from the cheap seats. The game’s rules keep changing. We want to be included, but when to jump in…will there be a chair or will we fall on the floor when the music stops?

We live in a I can do it by myself culture. ‘I am the master of my fate,’ says the poem Invictus. ‘Out of the night that covers me, Black as a pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have neither winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance, My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how straight the gate, How charged with punishment the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.’ William Ernest Henley

‘Jesus said, ‘Come.’ And Peter left the boat and walked on the water to Jesus. But he began to sink when Peter saw the wind and the waves. He shouted, ‘Lord save me!’ Immediately, Jesus reached out his hand and caught Peter.’ Matt 14: 29 – 31

Such is our human experience. Flinty determination is vital, and humble acceptance of a helping hand is essential. Walking the road of life requires both.

Fear stands up in the town square and shouts its pronouncements for right and wrong, and who is accepted and who is not. Control must be achieved, or the center will not hold. New laws are needed to replace the old laws. Fear is a watcher of people. Look for the fault and write it down. Record the sin and grab the stone. Whisper in dark corners. We must correct the inequities we find in others who are not following our law. Our law is popular; it is cheered in the marketplace by those of like thinking. We must root out the undesirable before they come for us. They will catch on, and we will suffer.

Courage sits silent in the back of the audience. No need to display the sense of place or purpose. Courage knows who she/he is. Quiet assurance of peace. No display of prowess, but rest in God’s plan and guidance. Accept the hand of help.

Fear says you better be afraid of me, I have power, I will hurt you. Courage sits quietly and looks deeply into Fear’s eyes. Fear looks away and seeks reinforcement. Courage whistles a hymn and reflects on his guardian angel. Fear says perhaps you have not heard of my exploits and the many I have vanquished. ‘Bow your knee before me and I will give you all the kingdoms,’ Fear said.

Courage flips the light switch and Fear disappears…