Mild illness forced me to slow down this past week. I didn't really appreciate the slowing down, to be honest, but it did cause me to spend more time contemplating this fifth Christmas season since my son, Perry's, physical death. I have a special Spirt message below to share, but first, here is an excerpt from a post I wrote last night on the Rachel Pearson Spirit Messenger Facebook page:
So if you are reading this in disbelief that you will ever be happy again, please know that I once shared your same disbelief. And I truly experience joy with the holidays, once again. When I do experience the holiday joy now, it is all the sweeter because I will never forget my disbelief that this joy would ever be possible. I feel gratitude every time I feel the joy. I am living the wonder of my own Christmas miracle.
This is my 100 percent truth, yet I can still long for Perry's physical presence, more so during the holiday season. I am in awe that both emotional experiences can exist together. This does make for an emotional season for me, but there are more pleasant than unpleasant emotions I experience throughout it now.
I woke up this morning thinking of all the brave folks/souls I have met this year who are living through their first holidays without the physical presence of their loved ones, knowing firsthand how difficult these days can be. Then I received the download (below) from Spirit to share with you. If I had to assign a theme to Spirit's message, it would be HOPE. May you feel the presence of your loved ones in spirit as close as they really are, as you read these words and throughout the 2020 holiday season...
There is a season for everything, this you have heard. But we tell you there are various seasons of grief. You may need to cry this minute, and by doing so, you experience joy in the next minute. Or you may need to cry this day, and by doing so, you experience joy in the next day. Your cries may clear your heart and mind for the next minute, or your cries may exhaust you for the entire day... There are various seasons.
We want you to know that your tears sow joy that you will reap in the morrow. Your tears are fertilizing the ground from which you will bear more fruit because of them. You may thank your tears, yet this is not something you will want to do when you are in a season of mourning. This would be akin to thanking the rain while you are living through a flood and have not yet seen the sun.
But we tell you this... If you allow yourself to accept and not resist whatever you presently feel, there will come a time when you will see the sun again, and it will shine upon you for longer than your tears were shed. We tell you that one day you will be able to thank your tears, for you will look back and see where your tears fertilized your soul for joy. You will see where your tears fertilized the ground for you to bear more fruit which will feed yourself and others... and this will bring you even more joy.
Take heart, Dear Ones, in this heavy season of rain, of mourning, of heavy grief. This nostalgic season which you call the holidays yields more rain, downpours of the heart. Take heart and know that this downpour may be relentless in the moment, but it is for a season. You may see this, but only if you give yourself grace and space. You may need to carve this space out of your calendar or plans. Prepare your bed for respite. Tend to your heart when you feel its weight. Cry. Retreat if you must to cry. But give yourself this. And grant yourself the space to recover, to mend.
Do this and know that you will reap joy in the morrow, not due to the passage of time, but because you tended to the tender soil of your heart. Maybe in the morrow or maybe you won't notice the healing until the next season of nostalgia is upon you. But trust you will see this. You will reap the lightness and you will marvel in hindsight. You will reap this lightness if you now tend to your heart as you would tend to an ailing friend, having no expectations and placing no undue burdens upon yourself. Care for your heart as you would care for a precious babe.
Resist comparing yourself to another to determine what season of grief you are in. Nor do we want you to judge your own tears, saying "I will never," this or that. It would be more healing for you to seek an understanding of the pain from which the tears came than it would be to judge your pain.
It is also unwise to use the passage of time as a measuring stick to judge what season you are in. Let your heart reveal to you what it needs, in every minute. Allow for this. And resist bringing your future worry into your present moment, for you add to your grief when you do so. Give mind to these thoughts, and give no extra thought to judgment. Resist judgment and comparison and future projection, for these thoughts create pain for you. We do not wish you more pain. We wish healing for you.
Of course, one must also know when it is time to move out of the crying bed, even if for a moment, and not add to one's sorrow by not doing so. This requires getting to know your thoughts and emotions and guarding the company you keep, but first and foremost, the company your mind keeps. This is an inner task, akin to how one must discern for his or her self the time for which physical exercise will benefit the body more than rest, and then when it is again the best time for rest. When one masters this discernment, one masters all that is necessary for healing.
Take heart that we know when you are in this nostalgic season. We know when you hear the Christmas bells and they bring you merriment. When know when you hear the Christmas bells and they bring you sorrow. We know when you hear the Christmas bells and they bring your both merriment and sorrow. We are here, with you, for it all.
Like the mist you see that forms as your breath exhales the winter air, we are here.
You are loved, Beloved. Now take these words unto your heart and go love yourself as we love you.
Be unto yourself the love we have for you, and you will feel us all the nearer.
We couldn't hold you dearer.
Merry Christmas, my Love,
Spirit and Rachel