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My dad died several years ago from cancer. One night when I was sitting up with him, he told me that he wsa scared and wasn't sure how to die and this thought popped into me head: when someone dies and is resuscitated, they often speak of seeing this beautiful light, and it is often thought that this light is something external drawing them away from this world. But, I think it is the love breaking out of our bodies and taking us to God and all the people we love - connecting us forever.

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breathtaking. thank you for that image.

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So beautiful! I'm crying, they're good tears.

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Me too!!!

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Thank you so much, Nadia🙏

My husband, who was also a recovering alcoholic, died pretty suddenly at age 75 of cardiac arrest just 6 weeks ago. Truly I can say that after being with him for 50 years(most if it in AlAnon), I am hard pressed to even remember his shortcomings, which often in this life felt very challenging!

The outpouring of love at the funeral…all the people that showed up who had been recipients of his giving away his recovery, was such a testimony me that God truly does us the weak, the sick, the diseased and dysfunctional to carry out His kingdom here on earth. I saw the rest of the story and I am totally sure that our God is nothing but total Grace, Mercy & Abundance!

I love your preaching 🙌🏼

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Melanie, I am so sorry you lost him. And I have seen how those with long-term recovery are celebrated at their funerals. It's profound. It ends up that just trying to be of service adds up to a lot of lives being touched.

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Your comment that the blood of the Lamb doesn’t clean only *lightly* stained garments is a keeper! As we discussed Thanksgiving dinner this week, my son said it hasn’t been the same for him since his mom died of cancer 5 years ago. Yet he cooks his mom’s recipes for his sister and me each November, and our tiny family remembers, and little by little we become something new. I imagine that in heaven she knows that we’re taken care of, and she can finally sit down with us and enjoy the meal.

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Thank you for this utterly beautiful sermon. As an Army chaplain who now works at Arlington National Cemetery, I am "caught" by something about the story of every person for whom I conduct a burial service. Some people were Army spouses, some were Soldiers who did heroic things, some served simply and then moved on to civilian life. Some had happier lives than others. But everyone has something about who they were that sticks out in my mind and I treasure it. I have started a journal with a couple sentences about every service I do, as a sort of spiritual discipline.

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Thank you for acknowledging the complicated grief. That’s a whole spiritual journey.

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Wow! I know I said (after your beautiful, wonderful, inspiring “Godspell in Prison”) it would be enough for the world…but, you did it again with this sermon(I need a thesaurus to avoid saying the same words: beautiful, moving, kind…wonderful…). Wish I could encounter you in person in this life, but hopefully somehow in that promised setting of Isaiah with All the saints. Meanwhile I will try to honor and recognize all the saints I have met in the past and into present. Love and peace to you Nadia, and thank you, Bob Kantner

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As always Nadia, you touch something in me.

I was particularly struck by grieving parents whom you have complicated feelings about. At 72 I think it is time to contemplate that more.; (-:)

And most of all: "And its difficult to grieve someone who we still carry guilt over not treating as well as we could have"...,Amen.

Thank you Nadia. Love, Tom

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By the way, Nadia, St. Drogo is also the Patron Saint of Coffee. I have his image hanging over my alter of the coffee pot where I. put my hands together every morning in gratitude.

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That is awesome! I'm going to have to get that!

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Saint Drogo! I love coffee and am excited to hear it has a saint! Thank you for sharing.

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Remembering my dear wife, who passed three years ago this very day. "The point of love is not that it wins, but that it loves." --Street

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Per usual, am late to the party. Really glad I got here. Nadia, I value your words I wholeheartedly believe they are Spirit - breathed. “The opposite of fundamentalism is humility”?? Gorgeous! But this message? this one takes the cake…

Just yesterday, I had a REAL conversation with my mother - one in which we looked at each other with truth, respect, forgiveness. I’ve been thinking about your words about freedom from childhood trauma, humility, and now, this. I’m so grateful I was graced with that conversation, and for a community that understands complicated everything. Thank you.

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My Mom … and her cooking which is how she showed her love. I kept her at arm’s length to my dying regret. Love ya Mom, see you again, God willing❤️

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Thank you for capturing the complexity of this day! This spoke to me: “It’s unavoidable that at some point the fabric of our hearts will snag on the rough side of other people. And it can make grief pretty swirly and not so basic. And the rougher parts of us will snag the hearts of those we love and even when we don’t mean to, we may hurt them. And when we die the grief they feel will be complicated too.” It all works out for each of us! This, I believe! Breathing it all in...with love.

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Dear Pastor Nadia, I am the adoptive mother of 7. I chose my kids and worked hard to be their mother. Some of them have special needs but we always expected (hoped) they’d make it. Recently we lost our 6 year old (suddenly and unexpectedly)….7 years after our 8 month old died, almost to the day. I feel like I don’t understand anything about god, but your words always bring me comfort. I subscribed just in the hopes of you actually seeing this, and knowing how much your pastoring means to me

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My godfather was a professor of Theology in Germany and a great Lutheran in the tradition of „religion engagé“. I had in his eyes always very naiv imaginations of god and the afterlife. He was born in Nazi Germani and suffered as a child from the war abd became a anti-fascist activist and was friends with many jewish scholars and artists like Yehuda Bacon. Looking at the Schoa, there was no simple yes to teachings of the church anymore. Everyone conscious here in Germany asked the question: Where was god in Auschwitz. So my image that life might go on just like they tell us in a childrens book was a sign to him of me being intellectually simple and not rather intelligent. I was very suffering from this image which was by the way adopted by my family. As life goes on he got cancer and after years of fighting he was already in dementia due to the tumors growing in his brain. Nonetheless one evening very late - and he was the old dchool professor who you would never caIl after 6 pm - saw his number in my display. I was sure I would now get the message he had died. But it was himelf with a thin voice asking me about - mm well you said something there about how things would go on ... mmm maybe I will just trust you and your special signs or so. He closed telling me of the carreers of his 5 children. A few days later I got the message that he passed away. His daughter was there and told that she could tell that he had seen „the light“ when he was passing. I was kind of proud of my achievement which was obviously to comfort a man dying who associated with death mortaliti didpite all of the sermons he gave over his years as a pastors and despite the scientific books he wrote about the life of Jesus. And maybe not despite but in a way because of that? - which sounds contradictional. Now, to be honest: I am not really sure if I still believe in these images I was marked as dumb for any more. I wonder who I will call when I feel its time...

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Oh, please! Call! The first person who comes to mind.! You are loved Be-loved!

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Thank You. I will!

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I think you will know

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thank you!

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Nadia, you have an astonishing gift of combining the sacred and the profane in one sermon. Your super-weird saints cracked me up. Brava!!

Unlike you (speaking as another recovering alcoholic) I don't care if I can drink in Heaven. Well, perhaps I'd like the freedom to drink some champagne to celebrate. Because I'm having a wild party the day I arrive at Heaven's Gates. I can't wait to hug my dachshunds (Rest in Play) Gunda I, from childhood, and Gunda II, her namesake. (Gunda, a female name of Scandinavian origin, means "Warrior Maiden," a good description of both of them.)

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Amen! And may I be on the hospitality committee also?

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Me, too! Love this!

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