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Bill Achor's Writings

December, 1985

Created in unified collaboration of William E. Achor, Philip Thomas, and Roberta Ann Wilson
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October 12th, 2012
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-- William E. Achor
   Minister
   Science of Spirituality --



Hello, dear friend:


It is my joy to share with you my love . . . and the things I find that may contribute to harmony and understanding for all.


I have a special gift for you at this Christmas time . . . the accompanying  "Mom's Story".

It is not truly my gift, but the gift given by Carol Sue and her mother; which I now share with you.

May it have as much meaning for you as it did for me.


Love,


Bill
William E. Achor


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         


















































MOM'S STORY 

by 

Carol Sue Kluck  



Carol Sue, the compose of this true story this letter La Miranda, California with her husband, Ray. Linda and Martin, who are referred to in the letter, of the children.  Carol Sue's mother, Mabel, lived with them for several years . . . Until her death. 




MOM'S  STORY   


10/17/1899 12/1/1984  


Dear Mom and ALL Her  Family and Friends,

All your life you wanted to help people.  So I'm writing this letter to share your story with our loved ones, past and future, known and unknown.

When you were a little girl you wanted to help by being a teacher. When you grew up, you graduated from Cornell University, became a Home Economics teacher and loved it so much you felt the pay was an added bonus.  After you got married and stop teaching, your desire to help people took the form of volunteering for a social service agency, advising people on how to prepare nutritious meals for less cost and how to better manage their money. In later years you used your vast knowledge and library in nutrition to legally help anyone who was sick.  And now, Mom, I want to help you give your last gift by writing your story. 

This story began on Oct. 17, 1899.  You were the first born of Arthur in Mabel Bruckner.  Not long after your birth a brother, Robert, was born.  This was to be your mother's last child because a few months later she passed on.  Through her letters you knew your mother, a uniquely, beautifully loving young woman.  What I remember best from her letters is that rather than wanting simply to enjoy the great love between herself and Arthur, she wrote in one of her letters to him that after they were married she hoped to open their home to share the overflowing joy and happiness that was theirs.  Even though your father's mother moved in to take care of her two baby grandchildren, and I never heard anything but the kindest and most appreciative words about her from you, you never got over the loss you felt at not having known your mother.  I think you felt there could not be a loving, caring God when such things happen. 

In August 1929 you married my father.  You never had the slightest doubt that you had married the dearest, sweetest, most wonderful man in the world. 

Even though you had not had the experience of being loved by your mother but for so very short a time, with all your heart you wanted the other side of that experience to be a mother.  Your first baby, a boy, died shortly after his birth.  After almost dying during your pregnancy, I was born on 9/14/33. 

But this little girl was not to be part of the beautiful kind of relationship you felt you missed with your mother.  This little girl totally adored her father and as she grew up and until he died in September 1949, this never changed.  You told me with pleasure how this little girl and three years of age, marched back and forth pronouncing that she loved her daddy.  But there must have been some hurt too.  With pride and pleasure you kept a book of things this little girl of your said, but she never said,    "I love you, Mommy". 

On the day that you left this plane a friend of yours shared with me that you had felt God either couldn't exist or didn't care, or He would not have let your young mother die.  So very early for you, guilt and fear appeared and grew.  Fear and guilt breed more fear and guilt, some projected out, some kept in.  And Mom, history repeats itself. 

When I count up the months, it is about nine months (interestingly) since you gave up, dear Mom, and let your mind cloud over.  I came home after riding with Ray one week and realized because of your dry lips that you had not been drinking enough much less eating enough.  So that started my taking care of you.  I'd always said that I would not do that.  You always said that you felt the most sympathy for blind people and what happened was that most of the time your eyes or perhaps your mind did not register what it saw.  At that time you would let yourself see something such as my glasses or Ray standing on the stairs.  I began to wonder if it is not what we fear that comes upon us but that we fear what we know at some level is going to come upon us. I thought of how extremely fastidious you had been all your life. Was that because the end was to be so opposite? 

Dear Mom, during those last months I got more and more frightened and you did too, although at times I felt you were surprisingly calm.  I remember once when things were so bad and you said, "Aren't I foxy?"  I felt you so much didn't want us in this situation that you were willing to make things bad enough that you could overcome your fear of death. This was a fear you denied but I felt that was precisely because it was so great.  How else could one feel who believe that God, if He existed, had no caring for his children?  I tried to explain to you, Mom, that if God intervened between our thoughts and their results, He would be tampering with a basic law of cause and effect; the most fundamental law there is.  God would not be helping us if he depreciated the power of our own thinking.  But I guess what you experienced seemed more real than an idea.  During this time two things meant so much to you. One was Shirley McClain's book, Out On A Limb. I read a chapter a day to you. You love to hear what "the actress" said and something miraculous happened your mind was alert, questioning and responsive during the reading of this one book.

Another miraculous thing was that as your mind slipped away so did several of your long-term physical problems.  In the end, you who so wanted to help people with their physical problems, helped in the true way; by showing that thought is cause. 

The other thing you loved and had me read over and over was a letter from your nephew, Conrad.  Here it is once more, Mom: 

Dear Aunt Mabel,                                                                                                             May 9, 1984

Virginia tells me you're "failing", which I presume means you're dying. 
Your passing
I want you to know that in my book you're passing the grade with flying colors.  Your radical ways have been an inspiration to me to never stop questioning and re-examining basic assumptions in life. 

And now you are showing the way again, into the moment of death where we will all join you in due time.   Ah I relish the thought of arriving at death's door and fearlessly opening in entering into the unknowable cosmic destiny of realms undreamt of in this frail condition we call life. 

I imagine death being much like birth . . . a transition, sometimes gradual, sometimes fast into new experience and new challenge, new pain and new joy. 

Some of us didn't want to be born and some of us couldn't wait. Eagerly we savored with full quiet attention every moment of birth . . . and now likewise, in the moment of death eagerly savoring with full quiet attention every moment of this blessed event. 

Let us pray together and realize the unity that is always present between us all, in life and in death . . . we  are never alone . . . we are all one.

Love, Conrad Isecke




The months wore on,  Mom, and I began to wonder if you with keeping yourself in this terrible condition because of this lack of love between us and I felt I could not will love and that we were just stuck. But that didn't mean that I didn't want to help you; I wanted to help you. Even if my fear in the situation made it appear to both of us that this was not always true.  

Well Mom, help came, not by accident, when a friend loaned me a book by Nevville. Because of it I wrote a  "message" to you which I frequently sent from my heart to your heart.  The message got into both our minds that you were aware of God's love and felt peace and forgiveness.  That you look forward to being with your loved ones and knew what a joyous homecoming it would be.  And perhaps most important, that I cared for you, dear Mom. 

Things slowly started to change. Ray also felt the peace replacing fear. And I slowly began to feel the love that had been buried all those years.

The day before you made your transition you said that I didn't love you and I wanted so much to have you, and to me, understand.  I remember taking hold of both your hands and a story came. You loved it want to be told again.  

Here once more is the story.  Your story, my story, everyone's story. 

Once upon a time we knew we were the beloved children of God, created in his likeness as spirit and we were happy and free.  But one day we fell asleep and got caught up in a dream that we were a body.  And we became frightened.  And fear brought all kinds of unhappy results. And guilt was born. Identifying with our bodies, we dreamed the cruelest dream of all that we could lose those we love.  And sometimes our fear and guilt and resulting unhappy dreams got so strong that it clouded over our love.  And I told you, Mom, that this had happened to you and me.  The problem is fear and guilt.  All those other things that we think are causes are results. 

I told you about the law.  The law that says, "And everything that seems to happen to you, you asked for,  and received as you have asked". I said the law works, Mom.  Just like if you were to jump out of the window, your body would go down even though you wanted it to go up.  You laughed at that. 

When we feel fear and guilt, we do not love ourselves. So we do not ask for and receive happy dreams. We ask our brothers or ourselves to provide these unhappy experiences and guilt is reinforced. 

So the problem is our lack of love for ourselves with its resulting unhappy experiences. And the answer is to truly love ourselves and so ask for and receive happy dreams. 

Dear Mom, you said this was so hard to understand and so hard to love yourself.  I agreed that it seemed to be hard. But that a little child could understand it. You don't need a great intellect. You don't need the millions of words in books or the millions of words that have been said.  Then I counted the words needed and there were only seven.  "Love yourself and want good for yourself."  I told you that when you do this you have lit a candle in this dark world.  It's the way to light your candle. If we want to really help we will let people know that loving themselves isn't the self-centered thing their egos told them it was.  If we no longer asked our brothers to participate with us in guilt producing experiences, where would be the guilt?  If we remembered we are not a body, where would be the fear? If love is letting go of fear and guilt, we can light up our planet.  Mom, I told you that you could go to dad with a gift in your hands. That even dad, the most loving person we and many of the people knew, did not truly love himself.  Remember the law?  Would you bring any unhappy dreams to yourself if you felt no guilt? All dad's love, so freely given, did not result in our loving ourselves. We must know the truth.  This is a dream.  A dream in which we are the cause of our experience. Mom, I think you had not felt you were going with a gift, and the dawning of the idea that you had a gift in your hands was perhaps the flame that lit a candle. 

That day, Mom, you went back and forth. One time you'd say, "I love you Mabel".  But then later you'd say you didn't.  But then finally it was as if the feeling had really gone in and you even added to it. I was delighted with your addition and told you so.  You said,  "I love you, Mabel for a change". What a wonderful change after all these years. And I happily added that we wanted good things to happen for a change.     

The next day you ask me if you were in the Spirit World.   Silly me, I looked with my eyes and said no; instead of asking what you saw or felt. 

But physically, you seemed much worse. For the first time you could hardly swallow your food. In despair I wondered if now that you knew I loved you, you had just switched from that unhappy emotional situation to this unhappy physical situation.  A nightmare.  In fear, I cried out to Jesus, to please help us, to not let you slowly strangle. That new thought, that prayer of my heart was answered. Because that night, Nov. 30, 1984, my dear loved mother, you made the transition to the Spirit World in the gentlest way possible. You just fell asleep. And you went with your gift in your hands for all your loved ones: Your message of how to light their candles until one day the whole universe will be light and the children of God, every last one of them, will be reunited with their Father. 

When I discovered you had left your body, I knelt on the floor beside you, held your hand and discovered that what I thought would be very fearful was not fearful at all. What I felt was the love and through my tears I told you that you didn't have to have a body like that one anymore; that you could have a new, young body, say like it was when you were 29, the year you were when you married dad just in case you hadn't found that out yet. Later that morning when I phoned a friend she said the spiritual entity she had been in contact with, refers to what we call death as a change in costume. This entity sent a message through my friend to me that said you were doing fine and progressing on your journey. It ended with, "I love you, Susie". My friend had never heard me called Susie. Your name for me. 

I felt happiness that day when I found that I kept thinking of you at your homecoming in your new young costume. But I also kept crying and telling you I didn't want to spoil your party with my tears. Then I realized that for you who went so many years not experiencing my love, perhaps this was a gift. That night I experienced that all your loved ones were singing Happy Birthday To You and I joined in the joyous song. 

The next day we went to Disneyland so Marty could videotape Linda in the Christmas show. It had been so many years since you had done much that was fun. I wonder now if it may have been because you did not think you deserved fun. I wanted so much for it to be true that you really could experience Disneyland with us. So I asked the Holy Spirit through the Miracle Cards if you could. What I drew was, "Miracles occur naturally as expressions of love".  How delighted I was that day that each time you came into my mind, you were in your new young costume. Then later I became aware of Dad being with us and then your brother, Robert. You were so proud of Linda as Dale (the chipmunk) and Sneezy. And so happy to be sharing it with Dad and Robert. That day that could have been so sad, was so happy, Mom. It was as if time had rolled backwards and it was outside time and space and you and I were friends and close and happy and had not yet started this dream to learn the meaning of love and forgiveness. 

Help us keep our candles lit, Mom. Help me, when I falter and let my candles flicker dimly, to remember you, to remember what we came here to learn. Help me to keep it lit and to share with others, your story so that your life will help others to light their candles by loving themselves, for a change and wanting good for themselves, for a change. 

From your daughter, with love. 

P. S. Your story got shared, Mom, at Forgiveness Day at the Anaheim Convention Center. And there were many who were moved to tears and shared with me that your story meant much to them. Your gift has begun, Mom. I know that you know this, dear Mom, because one of my friends, a little shaken, shared that she had seen you sitting beside me on the stage. 

A new day is beginning. 
A new day has been born. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   


I am grateful to my good friend, Carol Sue, for writing this letter. . .and for her permission to print it. It is a beautiful unique example of Karmic debts and the overcoming the transcending - of these karmic patterns.    It is presented here just as Carol Sue wrote it ; with only minor editing mostly spellings and some punctuations. 

W. E. Achor 

Minister,   S.O.S.