Fountain Of Gratitude

I am standing before a shrine in a large, dimly lit area with no walls, gazing at Sri Chinmoy's photo on a table draped in white satin. I am aware of many, many beings standing far away in a semi-circle on my left. Someone is standing beside me on my right as if accompanying me. As I gaze at Guru's photo, a beautiful white light emanates from the picture and envelops me. I feel fortunate that my Guru is blessing me and, as I am filled with his light, I hear a very faint tapping sound, and a familiar, faraway voice whispers, "Mom, I think I need to go to the hospital." My awareness transfers to another plane of consciousness, and I am in my bed. I rise from my bed and open the door. My oldest son is sitting in the darkness just outside my bedroom door. I ask him, "What is wrong?" He says very, very faintly, "Hurt myself." I ask him, "Where are you hurt?" I receive no reply. I examine his head, not knowing what I am looking for, and in fear I scream at him, "Why don't you tell me what is wrong with you?" He is silent. I am pleading with him to help me, to talk to me, and as I pull up his right arm, I catch my breath. There on his upper forearm is a cut so large and deep that it appears in the darkness as a grotesque, gaping mouth. He is bleeding so heavily that I know I might lose my son. I turn on the light and see the severity of his injury and the terrible loss of blood, and I scream to my younger son to wake up and help us. He runs to my side and I tell him to squeeze the wound together while I get the phone. My daughter appears silently on the top landing, looking like a frightened little deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. I run to the phone but it is not on the phone base, and I run from room searching for the one thing that can save my son's life. It is nowhere to be found. In desperation I run outside and pound on several of my neighbours' doors, but no one will answer. I have a horrible feeling that my son may die because we can't find the cordless. But then I remember the light and I relive the vivid experience in front of Guru's photo in detail. I return to the house and kneel beside my two sons, feeling defeated. I know that I will not be able to drive to a pay phone and return in time to save his life. As I am about to give up, my daughter says to me in a whisper, "Mommy, there's the phone, behind you." I grab the phone, dial 911 and hear myself saying the words, "My son is bleeding to death." I explain what is happening and the woman tells me to get lots of padding and press it into the wound. She suggests that my younger son do this while I stay on the phone with her until help comes. As I sit there holding the phone, I once again remember that Guru has filled me with light. As I assess the situation, in my heart I know that Guru gave me the gift of light to help me survive the most terrifying event of my life. I feel Guru's love and concern for me so intensely that I do not cry. Instead I make a promise to remain happy. If my son dies, I will face the world as a grieving mother, but I will feel no anger towards God. The ambulance arrives and my son is whisked away. In the hospital waiting room, I keep turning my thoughts back to the light, and I replay the scene in front of Guru's photo over and over in my mind. To my greatest relief, my son survives. Guru tells us that when a situation is very, very serious, one of his inner beings stands right in front of him with the message. I believe this with all my heart. Guru had appeared in my dream, moments before or after my son's injury. Everything I needed in order to get through the terror I was about to face, I received from the light emanating from his divine eyes. But the most important, lasting gift I received was the reassurance that he watches over us like a loving father, and that we are never, never alone when we walk with him along his sunlit path.

Linda (Washington, D.C.)