Another Uplifting Mom Visitation: 

Painting My Sky with Stars Once More

 

        I had been feeling very stressed and depressed and all that kind of shtuff.  Into the evening, I rediscovered the original CD album cover, Enya’s Paint the Sky with Stars, with all its attendant memories of an incident that happened a few years ago, when I was thinking deeply of my mother who passed in 2001.  Rediscovering this cover definitely boosted my spirits, and with this still fresh in my mind, I soon went to bed.

        The next day, almost before the oppressive thoughts took me under again, I performed a fun, often helpful little ritual of picking up a book anywhere in reaching distance and reading at random.   The book that came to hand was The Bridge Over the River [See J. Wetzel, transl.].  I opened it and read: 

 

Let go of your doubts and brooding – it hinders your flight.  After you have raised yourselves above the depressing miasma of your earth you will be able to comprehend what would be today a vain attempt of understanding for you.

     Have confidence – it is I, your Brother [MY brother or Mother?], who is guiding you.  Do not seek for explanations, but harken to the echo within you, which will reveal everything  true and sublime in you.  When you have found the echo, then bow your head in humility before the incomprehensible.

     I have gone ahead of you and am smoothing the way for you.

     My hands are blessing you in hours of worry.  I pray for you in hours of doubt.

     I help you also with my love whenever you seem to stumble, and I am leading you on to eternity, toward peace.

     Our Father [/Mother/Beloved] is waiting.  A wreath is being woven from the blossoms of your prayers and your love, to embellish the portals of eternity when the way to glory shall be opened for you.

 

         Echo, indeed!  In fact, the ‘echo’ from the previous night was still singing in my heart, and I was pretty convinced this angel I had called my mother was paying a wonderful visit.  Every sentence spoke directly to my previous and present ruminations.  Not only that, but every word in this spoke directly to what I had been thinking/feeling.  Echoes and reverberations . . directly into my heart.

        I couldn’t help but feel this as a visitation from Mom -- or possibly my brother who died in 1985 -- but I had been thinking of Mom a lot recently.  Even so, I was doubly startled when I then noticed the date of this journal entry:  November 10 [1915].  November 10 is my mother’s graduation date, the day she finally graduated from this earthly life.

 

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