Come stroll with me through the Winter Wonderland…

Sometimes the sun IS breaking through right around the corner…just a little further.

Sometimes it is where you choose to put your attention. Do you focus on the brilliance bursting at the edges of your life or the browning grass beneath your step?

I just got home from a Women’s Spirituality Retreat.  I am always amazed at the gifts I receive during this weekend once a year.  I think my favorite part was my date with God… 

 Most days, I wake at 5 am.  No matter the time I go to bed, my eyes spring open at five and usually, I am fully awake bounding from bed to my office – my mind flooded with ideas…But this past weekend, I didn’t bring my work with me on retreat.  Instead of working at five, I crept from my room (as to not wake my sleeping roommate) and went to me main meeting area where there were these huge windows over looking the Rocky Mountains. 

 It was quiet.  Only me.  I plopped down in front of the windows in a comfy chair with a book and knitting in hand – just in case.  I looked out the window into the darkness beyond.  There were clouds in the sky, yet there was single star twinkling, calling to me, reminding me to whom I belong…

 Without conscious thinking I began to pray aloud, over and over repeating my gratitude for my life, my family, my work, my clients…and most importantly knowing God.  Suddenly I was a child again, tears streaming down my face – not from sadness, but release, even joy to be here in this moment. 

 In my mind, I heard the voice, tender and fatherly, “This is our time, our date…me and you, my beloved child.”  Warmth spread through my body and I noticed the faint glow of sunrise beckoning from just behind the powerful mountains.  Aaaahhh, this was our time and I settled even more deeply into my chair as to watch God’s glorious spectacle unfold.

 The sky, very slowly, began to brighten and the clouds became brilliant with orange, pink, red, purple, yellow…I pulled my chair even closer to the windows – to get a better view, and that is when I noticed the floating, glittering snow flakes…I was reminded that sometimes your have to change your position to see all the glittering magic before you.  Grateful tears again.

 I was surprised at how slowly the sunrise blossomed.  Again I was reminded about time…Time is man’s invention, but with God, it is without measure.  I had slipped into God’s time, grace – moment’s stretching into hours…We had all the time in the world.

 I sat transfixed, blessed and humble.  I watched the clouds change from orange to yellow to purple…on and on the abundant colors flooded my vision.  What surprised me most was when the sun finally did come up, most of the other colors disappeared.  The clouds turned almost a steel gray, drained of their vibrant colors.  The colors had gone home, returned again to from which they came – the fiery sun. 

 I was reminded to enjoy the journey even before the prize.  And I heard the tender voice again, “This is our time, my beloved. Come, rest in me any time. I am always here.  I am here.” 

 I bowed my head, humbled by the love that poured out for me, always.  Love born not because I did something special, or achieved something great, but because, I am.  Simply.  Purely.  Divinely.  I am. 

In the night, under the tenderness of the dark, you can find me resting in the palm of God’s hand.  I found my way here years ago.  I came crawling out of my despair, longing to feel loved.  What I first thought was an empty promise, lead to my grace.

As a child I was taught there is no God, only me.  I would find my way with no shelter from the storm, just me, alone and not surprisingly, frightened out of my mind.  I became an over-stressed, anxiety prone adult completely unsatisfied from within.  However, on the outside, the persona the world saw, I was fine – I had a lot of friends, a boyfriend, a good education.  My whole life lay before me and I felt lost and alone.

One Sunday, I don’t even remember why, I found my way alone to a church.  It was a beautiful church.  Pure New England style – a tall, white steeple with a giant bell, stained glass windows and filled with warm pine pews.  The minister was new, just filling in while the regular pastor who was on sabbatical.  The new minister was a woman.

She was a petite lady with a helmet of short, gray hair and sparkling eyes behind thick, black rims.  She used to be nun years ago, but left to have a family.  Immediately I felt a kinship to this woman who took the road less traveled.  Starting down one path only to shock the world by turning around and going in the opposite direction.

I’m not sure what the service was about that Sunday, but I remember I wept throughout.  I couldn’t stop.  I just felt like somewhere inside I came home.  As the pastor spoke, she silently invited each one of us to know God not only by the words she uttered, but by her very presence.  This woman was peace – a beacon calling to a new life.

I do remember she spoke of a loving God who was with you always.  The words were a balm for my wounds and I could feel myself calm from the inside.  I breathed again.  Then we sang hymns, ones I had never heard before and suddenly I was singing the words, “Resting in the palm of God’s Hand,” and I was.

In that moment, I understood – I am never alone.  I looked at the shining faces around me and saw pure joy.  “Joy,” not pleasure derived from buying or attaining something, but joy – the glorious simmering of your soul in the fullness of life.  This was a place for me, resting in the palm of God’s hand.

Today I still use this imagery over and over whenever I feel lost, or out of balance.  Sometimes, as you grow up, you discover you have to release certain beliefs you were taught as a child.  I know this lesson of “There is no God, you have to do it all,” was taught to me with the best of intentions – survival.   However, it crippled my life and I became obsessed with control or truly, the illusion of control.

Fortunately, I changed my belief and allowed myself to feel supported by an abundant and loving God.  So now, in the dark of night, you can find me resting in the palm of God’s hand.  Maybe one day I will see you there too.

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.