Living Between Laughter and Letting Go

Today I had somewhat severe pain in my chest, side, and back, and it made breathing difficult. I took a pain reliever and hoped the pain would subside. As I was taking my nightly walk, I talked with God, stating that I would be absolutely resigned to His will—if it was His will to take me home. I believe I was completely honest with Him.

My pain subsided after a few days, and now I can breathe, cough, yawn, or sneeze without experiencing too much discomfort. This likely means the pain wasn’t cancer-related, which suggests I’m going to hang around a little while longer. I’m relieved, although I can’t say I know the full truth of it. I’m also somewhat disappointed to still be here.

One good habit—or rather, virtue—I’m seriously practicing is letting go of my desires. Just before I fall asleep, I talk with God and say:

“God, if You want to take me tonight, I will bow down to Thy will. And if You want to keep me here for whatever length of time, I will bow down to Thy will.”

It feels so good and comforting to let ALL my affairs rest in His hands, since He is my guide and refuge.

I’ve already bought my coffin, burial plot, headstone (with the inscription carved in, save for the end date), and I even have my burial shroud and the required Baha’i burial ring. The ring bears the inscription revealed by Baha’u’llah:

I came forth from God, and return unto Him, detached from all save Him, holding fast to His Name, the Merciful, the Compassionate.

This phrase symbolizes the soul’s journey: its origin, its reliance on God, and its ultimate return to Him. The ring is an essential element of Bahá’í burial practices, signifying spiritual detachment and trust in God during the soul’s transition to the next world.

According to Bahá’í law, the body—after being washed and while prayers are recited—is to be wrapped in white cotton or silk shroud, and nothing else. While obligatory practices include the burial ring and the Prayer for the Dead, other customs, like applying rose water, may be observed based on cultural preferences or personal choice.

The reason for this long explanation is this: like the saying goes, “I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go.” I’m prepared—but it seems God doesn’t think I’m quite qualified for the journey yet. That said, I do have one concern: food and medicine have expiration dates. I’m wondering if my coffin does too—and if it does, and it expires, can I get a refund?

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day in my adopted country, the United States. It’s a national celebration marked by traditional meals—turkey, stuffing, pies—and cherished time with family and friends. It’s a happy day that reminds us, at least once a year, to be thankful for the blessings God has bestowed on us.

Where I live, there will be a small celebration with traditional food and some joyful fellowship among the residents.

I’m noticing something strange about life here: it feels both slow and fast. A new neighbor recently moved in. Her husband is a patient in the nursing section. Not long after she arrived, I heard she was hospitalized and in serious condition. The crisis was sudden and unexpected. I hoped she would recover—but a few days later, she passed into the next world.

Another dear friend, my brother David, was also recently hospitalized for two days. I didn’t even know it. I hope he’s not suffering.

I am so excited today—my heart is exploding with joy.

One of my angels (caregivers) and I were heading to my eye doctor, but we arrived too late. She went inside to check in while I waited in the SUV. Because of my shrinking height and difficulty climbing stairs or moving quickly, I delayed us. The office has a 25-minute grace policy, and we missed it.

She came back to tell me they’d rescheduled for next week. I was ready to leave and hoped to find someone who could return with me. I didn’t want to get upset—I’m working on not reacting to people or situations with frustration.

As we processed the disappointment, a man approached the SUV and knocked on the window. I recognized him—it was my beloved eye doctor! He was on his way out, but when he saw me, he asked if I had another appointment. Moments later, he invited us back into the building so he could personally see me.

I’ve been seeing him for years. I tease him mercilessly—and he seems to enjoy it. Out of pure love and generosity, he sacrificed his time to treat me. He told me he loves me. And I know he means it.

As I’ve said many times, I should’ve been dead six months ago. But here I am—shakily alive and still teasing my doctor! I believe God has opened my heart and eyes, not only to love others, but to feel their love in return.

When the visit ended and we returned to the front desk to sort out insurance paperwork, we met a tall, kind, African-American gentleman. He made eye contact with my friend and came over to us. Instantly, we felt a deep spiritual connection. We stood there talking—about God, about life. It felt like we’d known each other our whole lives.

We exchanged names, phone numbers, and emails. He asked if he could visit us—and before the month ends, he wants to take us to a restaurant to break bread together. Of course, we said yes. I gave him a few Bahá’í healing and prayer cards. Right there in the office, as the staff were leaving for the day, we said a prayer together. Then we continued our uplifting conversation outside.

He shared that he’s recently retired from the military and had a life-threatening emergency. One morning he awoke with a severe anxiety attack and went to the ER. It turned out he had an undiagnosed aortic aneurysm. Had he not gone in, he would’ve died within the hour.

We also shared my story—my ongoing cancer—and together we reflected on the goodness of God. This may have been one of the best days of my life. Praise be to God.

I even recited part of this Hidden Word from Baha’u’llah:

My calamity is My providence, outwardly it is fire and vengeance, but inwardly it is light and mercy.

How can anyone survive a life-threatening crisis and not believe in the loving hand of the Creator?

I’m tired from lack of sleep, but I’m so excited I doubt I’ll be able to rest tonight.

Later that evening, after we went to a Greek restaurant and had dessert first—my Oreo Blizzard, her peanut one—we enjoyed a simple dinner of lentil soup: the food of queens!

Back home, one of the caregivers, who had been upset due to stress at work, said she needed prayer. She came to my room and the three of us prayed together.

She told me that when she’s overwhelmed, she feels drawn to pray with me—that I help her calm down.

It gladdens my heart deeply. People know I am a Bahá’í, and yet they come to me for comfort and connection to the divine. Every night I ardently pray to be a channel of His grace. To think that someone like me—once a committed denier of God—could now be a source of spiritual comfort, however small, is a miracle in itself.

A beautiful Bahá’í prayer for gratitude, revealed by Abdu’l-Baha:

O Thou kind Lord! I am grateful for the blessings Thou hast bestowed upon me, and I thank Thee for Thy bounty and favor. Confer upon me Thy tender mercy and bestow upon me Thy loving-kindness. Permit me to dedicate myself to Thy service. Cause me to speak out Thy praise and illumine my heart with the light of Thy love. Strengthen me in obedience to Thy commandments and enable me to observe Thy laws. Thou art the All-Bountiful, the Almighty, the Merciful, the Compassionate.

My brother David is back in his room. I hope to visit him in a day or two. I tried to stop by this evening, but he was busy with his ministerial work. I was told he’s okay. I pray for his continued healing.