“…My God, My God…”

You see – I have lived long enough and well enough to have seen both face to face. On one, two, three or more memorable occasions, I have been on site to witness a baby being born; to stand in amazement at Woman in her guise as mother and – baby – bearer to humankind.

And thereafter to wonder, how it thereafter comes to be that man born of woman could imagine that ‘the man is smarter’. And thereafter that thereafter, I wondered to myself how could it be that man born of woman could say that he respects his mother; all the while reviling that other woman who is mother to the children that he swears are his.

In other words, mine has been a life that has been fascinated with how matters that seem simple enough could end up so complicated.

Even now, I wonder.

But even as I wonder, I have also had time enough to contemplate and ruminate on both Life and Birth; I have been obliged to gaze on Death and the notion of oblivion – in terms of what these could possibly mean in a world where we are told to pray: as it was in the beginning; is now – and ever shall be; World without end.

In other words, never-ending, all beginning; like a wheel within a wheel.

And as I thought these things this morning, my mind turned to that time when I witnessed a man’s departure from this warmth that is life’s own taste and yielded to that cold embrace that is emblematic of Death.

The man’s name was Darius Joseph Hendfield – a big man who had lived for a very long time; a man who was one of the sources for some very wonderful Turks Island people – some of whom I still know.

Suffice it to say, I watched in amazement as this man died – inch by inch – from his toes all the way to his heart; and then he was gone.

He fought for a day and a night – and then he was gone.

Happily for him and all who loved him has to do with the fact that he lived long enough to become an old man – a story teller of the first order who on occasion told me about how things were in the days that were even longer ago than the days that were once mine as I grew up young an green Out East.

Sadly, in more recent times another Darius Joseph passed this way; this time like a shooting star – wish, wish and thereafter wish; and it was gone!

A friend of mine wrote this way – and truthfully – about this Darius Joseph, grandson and namesake to the old man Joseph Darius:

"He was gone, leaving behind a distraught University community, frightened Bahamians there, and a father asking God, why his only son had been taken…" 

And now Bethel ruminates.

Here please be reminded that this activity is reserved for old men and bulls and cows.

1. Life is such a wonderfully precious thing; coming as it does with a time for everything under heaven – a time to be born … and a time to die.

When I woke this morning – I was not greeted by three little birds on my window. In truth, I was greeted by the rising sun – and I thanked God for this new day.

And as I gave thanks for the new day, I was reminded that some others who passed this way did also have their time to thank Him and praise Him.

2. Today I give thanks for the fact that I am still clothed in my right mind; that I can still make out the difference between hot and cold, night and day and for the fact that my brood of little ones and bigger ones and their little ones are doing as well as they are – as they await time’s ravages.

In particular I am happy for my grand-children and their peers as they sprout green wherever they go – exulting in these green and good years.

The youngest are oblivious to the vagaries of the Stock Market, blissfully unaware of the Dow Jones Index and for sure, they know nothing about futures markets and the Stock Exchange.

Surely, this is the domain of those far from green ones who must earn their daily bread – as the Word says – by the sweat of their brow

3. In the long ago years, when I was convinced that I was a man, I rushed through and tasted a bit of all those sweet things [they said] came with manhood.

And soon enough, I was the man of a house; and soon enough, I heard some one call out, Boy-Daddy – and the voice that chortled was that of my own child.

And soon enough, there were other voices.

And soon enough, a cacophony of other voices – to that point now where very many voices cry out – some with their continuing chortles, ‘Boy-Daddy’.

Some other voices are blunter and to the point, "Daddy…"

Some others [themselves old people children] – [patently in deference to time’s ravages] use the locution ‘Papa’ to describe the ‘me’ that I have become; and I love them all.

4. As people, friends are fine as they go. But in truth, some friends are obviously finer than others. Before you get to the ‘but-but’ part of what you might say to my platitudes concerning friends – you might at least let me explain what I am trying to say.

And now that I am done with this ruminating on this and that; take note that there was a time when God’s only begotten son cried out in anguish: My God, My God…and the heavens answered not.

Here follows another tale concerning another father and the fate of his one son.

Let’s agree to put it this way: One brother of mine [a say-what- you-like- of-him kind of man] routinely speaks the truth. In recent memory, this brother of mine affirmed and asserted that, "The death of a young person, any young person, generally sends shock waves through small communities like The Bahamas. 

"You see the picture of the deceased in the paper, and you see the innocence and the glow of potential coming from their eyes.  And yet all too soon, young life has been snuffed out.  It is happening with all too much frequency in The Bahamas as HIV/AIDS takes its toll; as there are more and more road traffic accidents, and as crime continues to be a problem for the country…"

My brother speaks well and true when he remonstrates, "Yet the sudden death in senseless circumstances always strikes the country as especially foul.  Such was the atmosphere throughout The Bahamas during the week as Bahamians sought to absorb the news from Mandeville, Jamaica…

"On Saturday 6th November, Joseph Darius Burrows left his home to get Kentucky Fried Chicken for his wife and family.  He never returned…" 

"Someone got him, cleaned out his bank account, and killed him.  His body was found on the side of the road, one mile out of Mandeville with a blunt force trauma injury to his head and a broken left hand…

"He was gone, leaving behind a distraught University community, frightened Bahamians there, and a father asking God, why his only son had been taken…" 

My God, My God…and the heavens answered not.

As John Lennon might put the thought…"When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me speaking words of wisdom, Let it be."