Proof of Heaven?

Our Lady of Loretto Medal (AquinasandMore.com)

Faith

It would be hard to share all these aviation related experiences without sharing some of the foundational aspects of my spiritual life. So I thought I might share a few formative experiences from my life and maybe loosely tie them to my aviation career. Disclaimer: This is my blog and get to write what I want so if it's not your bag, that's fine.

Sacred Heart Church, Ft. Dodge, Ia (CatholicGlobe.org image)

I have always considered myself a person of the Christian faith. I was baptized a Catholic in December, 1965 and with the exception of kindergarten and first grade, spend my entire school life in a catholic school. I participated in the sacraments and was an altar boy all the way through high school. In 4th grade, at Corpus Christi school, I checked out all the Lives of the Saints books and read them, cover to cover. Our family went on pilgrimages and even went to see the pope when he visited Iowa in 1978, at Living History Farms in Des Moines. I was a strong believer in the power of prayer and I had a special affinity for the holy rosary. I enjoyed the meditative quality of the rosary and several members of our family had the chains in their rosary turn to actual gold, according to a local Fort Dodge jeweler.

Black Magic Voodoo Doll (Ancientpoint.com)

Like Watching the Exorcist

When I was in middle school at Sacred Heart, a local priest, Father Murray, had recently returned from missionary work in deepest Africa. I will never forget the incredible stories he told us about lengths he had to go to circumvent the black magic and curses placed upon the Christians and other people he ministered to there. After hearing his testimony, the spiritual realm moved from something you see in a movie to reality for me.

Medugorje Today (http://pda.medjugorje.ws)

In the mid  '80's my father had made two pilgrimages to Međugorje, in the country which was then communist-controlled Yugoslavia. He had witnessed miracles there as well as apparitions. My father brought back rosaries blessed by the priests. Just a few days before I wrote this (April 2013) I gave my Međugorje rosary to my youngest son. My father recounted one case in particular that I remember. A man was possessed so people prayed over him causing him to vomit what looked like gallons of blood on the church steps, returning him back to complete normalcy.

A Voice

 In June 1989, right after I had finished army helicopter flight school, and before I had to report to my first duty assignment with the 101st Airborne Division at Fort Campbell, I took some leave and visited my family in Iowa. My dad took us to a Royals baseball game in Kansas City and planned a fishing trip to Lake Michigan, off the Wisconsin coast. Initially, we stayed in Manitowoc, Wisconsin and I caught a 29lb lake trout which we had mounted. But my dad, never a patient person when it came to unsuccessfully guided sportsman trips, decided to hire a 40' Boston whaler out of Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. To this day, never have I caught so much salmon. We had 45lbs of it smoked and enjoyed it every Sunday of football season until it was gone. The other 200lbs we had flash frozen and brought it back in a huge cooler full of dry ice.

While on that trip, our boat captain had a set of cabins on his property and we stayed in one for a nominal fee. I am not exactly sure on which night this occurred but it was probably near the final night in Sturgeon Bay. One evening, while my dad snored soundly and little Stephen, only 10 years old, slept peacefully, a voice like none I had ever heard in my life woke me up. In the Bible you will see quotes about angels and such where they say, "...and with a voice like a trumpet...," In this case the voice was loud, and real and sounded hauntingly melodious in fact, there is no way to describe the sound. It was like nothing I had ever heard. It woke me up and I sat bolt upright. "Prepare yourself for the coming of the mother of God!" What?? Dad, did you hear that? Wake up!!! Stevie? Did you hear that? Nobody had heard it but me, but it was as loud as a stereo system.When I asked my dad what he thought it meant all he could say, beyond the obvious message, was a quote from the bible that I will paraphrase, "...young men will dream dreams and old men will see visions."

Two Saints Suffering

Ok, so I got the "young men" part and apparently the "old men" part was about to happen next. In 1990, while deployed in support of operation Desert Shield, my dads mother, my grandma Vera, passed away. My brother and I, both stationed in Saudi Arabia for the prelude to Desert Storm, were not allowed emergency leave for the funeral and so our parents and my grandfather buried my grandmother. After I returned from combat in April 1991, maybe within 2 weeks, I came down with an undiagnosable intestinal disease. I lost about 20 lbs, had uncontrollable diarrhea and vomiting. Nothing could relieve my misery. Eventually my body got the upper hand and my symptoms subsided.

Just days after my illness subsided, we took a trip from Ft Campbell Kentucky back to Fort Dodge Iowa, my hometown. Along for the ride on this trip was my oldest son, Michael, who was only a couple months old. We sat outside on the deck of our family home and decided to pose for a 4 generation photo with myself, my son, my father and grandfather. I still looked sick and thin, and my grandfather was only a year away from his passing of a heart attack.

(David Tappe photo)

Over the previous 6 years my grandfather had been caring for my grandmother, who had been severely crippled by a stroke. She went to Des Moines for a heart bypass operation and due to an internal failure of the heart-lung machine, a massive amount of oxygen was introduced into her brain, killing a large amount of tissue. After the operation doctors advised my grandfather to pull the plug on her respirator, telling him she will be forever crippled and uncommunicative after the stroke. I don't know whether it was his faith or his anger at the their unforgivable mistake, but my grandfather said hell no, and get out of her room.

Vera had lost the use of all of her limbs, could not communicate, nor could she control her bodily functions. He brought her home, and with the help of various home health aides, he cared for the only love of his life for the next 6 years. During that time she began to speak. Her dentures were out, and it was hard for me to understand her at times, but it was my grandmother alright. As more time went by her communication got better and better. She never recovered the ability to use her limbs but she could converse, and her mind was all there until her passing in 1990.

A Vision

My father spent a lot of time checking up on my widowed grandfather, now home alone with his faithful dog, Zachariah. During these many visits Grandpa Albert told my dad he had seen visions, while sitting at the side of his bed, the same bed where he had cared for Vera. He told my dad that a spiritual window opened up in his bedroom wall, ringed by a mist, and there was a young and beautiful Vera, sitting on a chair with a couple babies in her lap, radiant light shining in. Grandpa never told my dad the first part of his conversation with Vera, saying that it was private. Knowing my grandpa, an incredible jokster, I totally get the jist. But as he conversed with her further, he asked who were the two babies. She told him they were miscarriages she had suffered and that they had no names. Vera and Albert decided to name them Joseph and Mary. Two other, older children accompanied her; babies lost after they were born, Roger and Patricia. Behind them he was shown a veritable sea of babies. An astonished Albert asked her what are all those babies doing here. She said they had died due to abortions. (This makes sense to me. My grandmother was a staunch pro life supporter and activist. As soon as Roe v. Wade was initiated by the supreme court, she helped form a local right to life organization. I remember helping her with parade floats and handing out flyers).

For my grandfather, already a person of faith, seeing these visions only solidified his view that his time was coming to an end and a wonderful place awaited him on the other side. Slowly over the next 18 months he declined in health, though still able to take care of himself and maintain his household. He passed away in his home in 1992, at the age of 72. My broken-hearted father gave the eulogy at Sacred Heart church in Fort Dodge.

For Me and My House...

Where is all this going? I don't know. But for me, these anecdotes, and many more personal experiences of my family and loved ones, tell me beyond doubt that there is a God and he is good. I am willing to stand up and say what I believe because I believe it to be true. Based both on my own personal experiences and the years I've spent educating myself on truth, religions and the very hard-knock school of life. It's taken me my whole life to get to this point. Somewhere along the way a very good priest told me to question everything about my faith and then go find the truth. I am still on that journey. Hand in hand with this journey are my efforts to form a better prayer life.

Proof of Heaven (Eben Alexander)

My goal is a closer personal relationship with God. Recently, I read the book, Proof of Heaven, by Dr. Eben Alexander. I found this book incredibly helpful and I must say, believable. Dr. Alexander paints a picture of a vast and infinite God, who is also incredibly personal and available to us all. The major premise? Pure simplicity. God is love. Sounds simple and a little cliche, right? But the more you think on the truth of it, the more sense it makes. We are so used to being spoon fed ideas and soundbites, we forget you are actually supposed the THINK. Think, meditate, pray. Close out the noise of the world, and put your gray matter to work. I find that hard to do. My brain moves at a lightning pace as I try to solve every problem presented to me, through the course of the day....until, that is, I realized it's a cruel joke of the devil. There is no end to the problems of the day! You can bury yourself in minutiae every single day, throwing yourself into bed exhausted, and never utter one prayer under your breath! Add sleep and repeat, ad infinitum.

As the old saying goes, there are no atheists in a fox hole. Despite flying helicopters for years, in various combat zones and other high risk arenas, I carried a pretty weak spirituality with me. Even still, faced with uncertain outcomes, or in the middle of an emergency like in my last post, I always found time for a prayer. Thus far, my prayers have always been answered. My plan is to keep growing my relationship with God and bring him along on my flights and just maybe, I will allow him to show me the fight plan he has in store for me.