Many years ago, I felt lost in my life.  I felt alienated from my husband, my kids, my parents, my friends, even myself.  Sometimes I could see my part in the problem, but more often than not, I saw others to blame. I knew I didn’t want to live this way, so I sought help through a hypnotherapist, Christina.  When I met her, she sparkled, and I thought, “I want some of that joy.”  She looked happy and peaceful from the inside out.

We began to discuss my childhood. I grew up in a violent, alcoholic, often frightening  home and like many other children of alcoholics, I don’t really remember much.  I have very few memories.  Since my childhood was so unsafe, Christina suggested we find a spiritual mother for me through hypnotherapy.  This was all very new to me.  I thought, “Spiritual Mother, What?  Don’t I have a Mother?  How could that help?”  Fortunately, I was so desperately unhappy, I was willing to try anything.

Christina began guiding me through a very relaxing visual meditation, finally leading me into a meadow.  In the back of my mind, I was thinking, “I wonder if this works?  I hope someone shows up.”  I was even a little scared that maybe no one would come.  Then, out of the woods, there she was.  Floating towards me.  Bursting with joy.  Arms flung wide.  There before me was Mother Mary in Blue.  Blue veil, blue dress.  So beautiful.

In my head I heard her say, “I have always been here with you.  I’ve just been waiting for you to see me.  I love you.”  Tears streamed down my face and as I felt her words, I thought: “I am so not worthy.  Doesn’t she have places to be?  Isn’t she needed somewhere else?  I’m not important enough.”  And, “I was raised by two atheists and Mary is my spiritual mother?  Wow.”

I couldn’t stop crying.  Her unconditional love, her absolute adoration of me, her child, was overpowering and life-giving.

After the session ended, I kept seeing the experience in my head over and over, awed by the whole session.  What did it mean?  Later, sitting in my office at home, still contemplating the afternoon, I looked up and saw the picture.  I giggled.  The framed picture my mom had given me before the birth of our first child stared back at me.  More giggling escaped my lips and then a burning in my throat.  Hot, stinging tears fill my eyes.

I had always wondered at the content of the picture.  As a child, we never went to church.  My mother didn’t believe in God, calling herself a recovering Catholic.  I read my name in the corner of the picture: Kelly, 1975.  I was five years old when I drew the scene.

There, from the frame, smiling broadly at me, is my Mother Mary, floating next to a very happy baby with the word “joy” croakily written above.  Both their faces sparkle!  Glittery star beams touch their heads.  I look into the blue eyes of the Mary I drew as a child and I hear, very clearly, from deep within, “I have always been here with you.  I have been waiting for you to see me.  I love you.”   Finally, I know it.  Mary has been here, next to me, loving me unconditionally, always.  I felt peace at last.  I was never alone.  I am never alone.

Today I see images of Mary everywhere.  I am constantly reminded of her presence and love in my daily life.  I feel her unconditional love for all of us.  Friends and clients have told me their own “Mary” stories.  I am grateful for the stories, because, sometimes I feel a little lost again.  Life is joyful, but also remarkably stressful.  The new stories and images remind me, again and again, of the love that surrounds me always, even in the dark of night.

Maybe you are feeling lost and alone.  Today, I can tell you with absolute faith, you are not alone.  I am grateful to be able to help others discover this truth.  Right next to you is spirit.  Cheering you on.  Loving you…waiting for you to see.  Waiting to lift you up.  So, ask - knock.  The door will open for you.