They come in threes...

It seems that the old saying that "Everything happens in threes" has come true for this year, as we account the deaths of Osama bin Laden, Muammar Gadaffi and most recently Kim Jong Il. I really must wonder, what were their last thoughts? What were they thinking about as far as what the end would be for them, and the end of all things past that?

Did they ever ask themselves "What have I done?"? Did they ever wonder if there was something more?

I can't help but wonder now. I feel no joy at their passing, and no real sadness either. I feel no joy because to wish death on another and rejoice in it is to rejoice in something apart from God, which is what death is (even as He entered it on the Cross, we still shouldn't wish it on anyone). And I feel no sadness because I know that, whatever happened, justice, Divine, complete and perfect, has come to pass upon them.

And that's where those questions above come from - if any of them flicked into their minds, it was God, calling them in the midst of His longing for them. And a part of me hopes, in spite of all they did, they heard the call. The miracles of God are His alone to fathom, and who but Him knows what grace and mercy He might give us.

All I know in the end is this - their time has now ended, and they have passed from this world. They have no assurance of salvation as they had not trodden the path that was laid in the form of the Catholic Church. That is all I know, and all I can say. All else is mere possibility and conjecture, as what would a man know of the full Will of God?

I also note that Christopher Hitchens has died. I don't list him with the above three as Hitchens was an avowed atheist, and I honestly and truly get the feeling, he would have pondered those questions, and ignored any that suggested God. I don't list him with them as he was also a man of principle and something of a wit, however, partial and misguided his views on religion may have been. He had plenty of guts, especially in his confrontation with Islamofascism (his term), and in the many political positions he took that were and are unpopular, but no less right for them.

So I shall leave us with another reminder of our mortality with a poingnant piece from On Her Majesty's Secret Service, the song where James and Tracy fall in love, and whose theme plays when she is tragically murdered. We have all the time in the world.