Tooth and ENT Doctor

By Pam Peters-Pries Why do we remember the dead? We remember simply because we loved them, and we long to see them again. We remember because we can't help it. We remember the dead because we know that we will also die. We confront the mystery of the end of life and wonder what it was like for those we loved and what it will be like for us. What will it be like to be in heaven, to be with God? To be free of pain and sorrow? Will we see our parents, our spouse, our friends who have gone before us? Will we be able to look down and keep an eye on those who are dear to us, or watch them gather around our own casket and listen to them tell stories about us? We remember the dead to honor their lives and to learn how to live. To demonstrate that although they no longer walk with us, sit with us or talk with us, the impact of their lives on ours is not forgotten, nor is it finished. We remember the dead, their lives, the goodbyes we shared or wish we had shared. W...

It's the end of October and the tradition of remembering those who have gone before us is here again. Come to think of it, there are many of them this 2009. My uncle finished his race of life this year. So did Cory Aquino, Michael Jackson, Farah Fawcett and Kim Dae Jung to name a few. And, who would forget the flock who moved on through several forces of nature that manifested this year? Indeed, I think 2009 will be one of the "deadest" time in history. But it's not something that we should be sad about. Let us be reminded that each of us has a purpose in this life, each race to run, each life to live. Once it's done, it's the end of the line. We move on. It may be hard to grasp the rationale behind it but let us not waste time comprehending something we will never understand. Only God knows! As we remember then those who died this year and in the past, let us look also into our lives and see how far we've ran our race and how effective are we in f...

I would like to tell you a story. It is a true story, because it is about me. I was born in 1930 in Germany to a very orthodox Jewish family. We kept all the holy days, my mother kept a kosher kitchen, and we didn't have much to do with gentiles. Germany was not a good place to be for a Jew in the '30s and '40s, and in time, my family was arrested and sent to Buchenwald, where my father and mother were killed. In Buchenwald, I completely lost my faith, for I could not believe that there could be a God who would let such a thing happen, especially to His People. The allies liberated Buchenwald before the Nazis came for me, and I was passed from one charitable agency to another until eventually I was adopted by a very kind and loving Christian family. They tried very hard to make me feel wanted, but they spoke no German and I spoke no English, They were Christians and I was a Jew, and there was no way for them to know how deeply my experiences had affected me. I had l...