All in the Family

I walk into the room, nothing unusual about this day, well up until this point. My children are strewn across the living room engulfed in their activities. I notice my youngest child sitting ever so still in the recliner, I look at them. they look back, but behind their eyes is a depth of mystery. This look is not outside of the norm for this child but the glint of what lies beneath is. Suddenly they announce, in the chopped and unclear speech of a toddler that they have a grandfather named John.

I stand very still; I watch the corner of their lips turn up in a smile. They look proud of themselves, like they just divulged information that will lead us to treasure or now, perhaps looking back maybe it was pride of finally being able to vocalize the realization.

I stand perfectly still. Starring at my child as I measure my reply, the thoughts race through my head. I know they have a great grandfather named John; I had never met the man but know the stories all the same.  I’ve seen photos, but my children had not. I look this beautiful soul in the eyes, fearful of the reply and simply say “Yes, but how do you know?”.

It was then I swear I felt the room tip, a pang of nausea enters my body as my child raised their pudgy hand to their face and placed a single finger on their lips and in the lowest hushed tone I have never again heard simply said “shh”.

Now, I ask you, the non-assuming reader what does a parent do in a moment that their child confessed to having knowledge of a man long ago dead? Stand there in shock or fear, I suppose most would. Call a Priest, I mean any worthy horror movie usually starts in similar fashion. That isn’t what I did, well not exactly.  I stood there in fear, dread overwhelmed every depth of my person. Let me be clear, I stood there in fear but not because I thought some ghoulish, low level negative entity took over my home.  I stood there in fear because I now had to face the realization that my child had abilities I long ago prayed would never be passed down.

Looking back, it was this conversation, 100’s that followed, that lead me into depths and reflections too long to share here and set ablaze to my desire of understanding myself. It’s weird how Spirit gets us to reluctantly cave, give in, to finally accept our calling isn’t it? Now, aware and trusting of my spiritual calling and journey I look back and really feel impressed to tell you, it does not have to be this hard! Granted, as a child I did not have an outlet to understand my experience, but I certainly could have listened when another one of my children, several years before asked an unseen Spirit to hold them. I didn’t handle that one so well, but that’s a story for another day and topic.

The point I am not so clearly making as I digress and distract with other aspects of my journey is that Spirit is always there guiding you or not so gently pushing you to where you need to be. You can ignore them; you can rationalize the signs and find excuses. If that is your approach, I guarantee you will still eventually find yourself face to face with the inevitable wondering why you didn’t just listen the first time. So, what are you running from?

Thank you for taking time to read this blog. I am here, sending you inspiration, insight, and strength for what lies ahead in your own self-discovery and connection with Spirit. I hope somewhere between the lines of what I share and don’t fully say you find inspiration and revelations about yourself and your own journey. Please, if so inspired leave a comment. Your feedback will help me better generate topics suited to you, the reader.