September 26, 2021
This time last year, my sister Jean died. God did not create her to be a writer, but He gave this man wonderful words that she would have echoed.
The author of Les Miserables, Victor Hugo, was more that 80 years old when he wrote this:
Within my soul, I feel the evidence of my future life...I am like a forest that has been cut down more than once, yet the new growth has more life than ever.
People say that the soul is nothing but the effect of our bodily powers at work. If that were true, then why is my soul becoming brighter as my body begins to fail? Winter may be filling my head, but eternal spring rises from my heart....And the closer I come to the end of my journey, the more clearly I hear the immortal symphonies of eternal worlds inviting me to come. It is awe-inspiring, yet profoundly simple.”
