I'd like to say I have a habit of journaling, but I don't. I have a habit of writing when answers and ideas, thoughts and insight, under the surface began making their way to the surface of my awareness, from my soul. What this feels like to me is a connection to my higher self, my soul, and it is in communion, connection with God/Spirit/heaven, reminding me of what I know to be true. At times, such as in this entry, I notice that I receive new information, unfamiliar thoughts, as the words come out. This is a very special and personal entry that I'm sharing in its messy entirety for the purpose of sharing with you what this is like for me... to encourage you in your own writing when things begin to bubble under the surface. You may be surprised at the connection you have, while you write or when you look back over your words!
I had no thoughts of Easter or Christ on my mind when I began to write this entry, which made this even more special to me. I am in awe and have much gratitude for the way God comforts me/us, affirms us on our path, and answers the questions we have that we may not even know we have. I couldn't let Easter pass without sharing this with you. May the promise of Resurrection bring you peace and comfort, today and always. As I type this, I am hearing, "He who has begun a good work in you..."
3/17/2018
(What had been brought to mind as I began to write this entry was an awkward (and a bit hurtful) social situation I had recently found myself in that made me feel a bit put on the spot, or under a spotlight.)
There are things difficult to put into words in casual conversation. The chasm is often too wide between me and another. I don't fault the other, I don't look down upon the other. Instead, I see in another parts of who I once was. I tell my story and I know people pity me. They would rather pity me or call me crazy than have to question their own beliefs. And there are even some who are more content to consider me to be deceived by evil than they are to question the fine print of their own beliefs.
What I don't say to them is "I haven't lost my mind, I have found my soul." Or, "I am closer to my son now in many ways. He is closer to me." They wouldn't understand, the chasm too wide between us. Not because I'm now delusional. Not because my son's passing drove me to insanity. Not because my son's soul is "stuck" here with me. Not because I'm in denial. Not because...
My flesh misses his touch, his voice, his smile. His smile he hid for the camera but it lives in my memory and in my heart. My eyes miss meeting his. My arms long to hold him. My flesh misses his hug.
But there was more to him. There is more to me.
We are closer, uninhibited by physical bodies and circumstances and schedules and geography.
This is where we meet and in this place nothing is held back, no self-protective mechanisms. There no longer exists a human need for me to protect him. I let my guard down and we just are. Together.
This is where we meet, where we are always together. He is here and I am there. Now.
But why did he die? Did he have to die? Would he have died in another way? Was this planned to the hour, to the day?
These are Friday, and Saturday questions, but my soul has reached Sunday. I no longer have a need for Friday and its earthly questions, nor Saturday and its new questions.
(Post-entry/edit: Do I have questions? Yes. Do they consume me? Do they produce within me a a perceived need, or even a passionate desire, to have them answered? No. I received, and will continue to receive, the answers I need, in perfect timing.)
There is human suffering, but a Resurrection Sunday that is greater.
I have no need for Friday. I have no burning desire for Saturday's questions. I have met Sunday, I can't go back.
When we meet Sunday, we don't need Friday. Friday serves a purpose - to bring us to Saturday, to bring us to Sunday.
If I hadn't experienced my own Friday, I would never have experienced my own, personal Sunday.
Like others, I have asked Friday questions.
I've lived in the anguish of Friday. I have felt Friday in every fiber of my being. My son died. How did he die? What happened? No, he wasn't supposed to die! God, you have forsaken me! You have forsaken my son! You have forsaken my family! More cries of pain than questions.
Friday led me to Saturday:
Was this planned to the day, to the hour? Would he have died another way? What is his soul's purpose? What is he doing now? Saturday brought me many answers, and more searching. Saturday was full of comfort and highs and wonder and letting go and healing and awe... Saturday brought me back to experiencing God's love and experiencing heaven, and connection with my son!
But, truth be told, Saturday doesn't answer all of our questions. Saturday can also be an exhausting place to stay. Quiet surrender must take place before the sun can set on our Saturday.
Saturday led me to Sunday.
Saturday led me to Sunday!
Sunday, my dear one, is where there is no longer need for the questions. Sunday is wonderful and glorious, and when the awe of it all wears off... there is peace. On Sunday, the mind no longer needs the answers, because the soul knows. When we meet Sunday, the soul begins to lead the way.
Living in Sunday, I do have questions:
What will feed my soul today?
How can I serve from my soul today?
Friday served its purpose. The pain led me to Saturday. Saturday served its purpose.
There are answers that cannot be understood by human thought process, do you see?
We can't humanly explain the Resurrection of Christ, but we know that heaven is among us.
We don't meet heaven here by finding the missing piece of the puzzle, nor the x factor in the equation.
We meet heaven here through love and compassion. Sunday brings us full circle to a place of living in both wonder of the mysteries of heaven, and in love with those beside us in the flesh. New eyes to see the heavens are magnificent, only if they bring us back to see those sitting beside us.
His feet were bare here, but he emits gold rays like gold points in a crown.
He was rejected by his own, but he shines brighter than the sun.
He was ridiculed, but he shines brighter than the sun.
He is misrepresented here, his words used to gain power, his words twisted and words spoken by others have been assigned to him. The power of his words have been closed shut within the book.
He welcomes all, all are welcome into his presence. All are welcomed home.