I will never forget the time I saw an Angel standing by my daughter’s crib. I was half asleep when my newborn started crying. Because I kept her crib in my room, all I had to do was stand up, take a few steps, pick her up and bring her back to bed with me to nurse her. But I was in such a deep healing sleep after hemorrhaging during the birth, that it took me a few minutes to pull myself out of it. When I finally sat up on the edge of the bed, I was shocked wide awake when I saw an Angel bending over my daughter’s crib.
Usually, if I am going to see an Angel, I see them with my mind’s eye. If I pray, for example, with my eyes closed, I will see Angels with my third eye, like a movie in my mind. In dim lighting, I can sometimes see energy fields and light beings with my physical eyes. This Angel appeared to me very clearly, outlined in yellow-white light. She was tall and strong looking. She had long golden ringlets like hair flowing down her upper body. She was bent over my baby, but I could not see her hands down in the crib, because when I jumped up, she disappeared. I am sure she was still there, but I could not see her.
I was blown away by how such a powerful Angel’s only assignment, was to be completely devoted to my baby. I also, felt so guilty for not jumping up to help my crying daughter right away. My admiration for the power in that angelic presence, took the job of motherhood to a whole new level. Now, the job of getting up in the night, to nurse and burp a baby, seemed to be an honor.
From about ten years old to 16 years old, my family moved to a magical farm on Lilidale Road in West Virginia. During that time, I loved to serve my family. When my mom challenged us to see who could be the most Christ-like, I won, hands-down, among my three other siblings. My family of six, lived off the land, so I felt like Laura in The Little House on the Prairie books. I also read every word of a thick book about how the Amish ran their farms and households. I couldn’t wait to read a little each night in bed. The books had an orderly feel to them, like life was nice and neat, and everything was in place. This felt very grounding to me. The books described my real life, with my hippy parents, who had left society to live off the land. We tilled, planted, weeded, harvested, canned and froze vegetables and fruits for winter. The books I read, made my everyday existence seem so magical as I did endless chores. I made butter, cream, yogurt, granola, and bread to feed the family.
When I was ten years old, my baby sister would cry in her crib, in the late evenings. I would slip in through the cracked door, lean over the crib, and sing to her as I rubbed her back until she fell asleep. As a child, serving made me very happy and fulfilled.
However, when I was 30 years old, tending to an acre-sized garden and a large farmhouse with two small children felt overwhelming. I remember my parents worked as a team, but my husband, would unexpectedly blow up in a rage and storm out if I asked him to help me hang up a shelf, or fix the broken mailbox. I felt stranded in the middle of endless fields in West Virginia, with a tense man who could not communicate in words. He only communicated one thing—he wanted more babies. Deprived of love and support, I knew I had to find a way to regain my health and happiness on my own.
Because a new baby is all-consuming, I had to make a game out of serving if I was ever to regain my health and energy. So, I put my new career as an energy healer on hold for a few months, and played a game that I made up. I would take turns doing something for the baby, something for me, and then, something for my homeschooled kindergartener. I would repeat this pattern over and over again, all day long. It created a momentum that carried me through the day.
I would change the baby’s diaper, get myself a drink, then teach my six-year-old daughter a fun little school lesson. I’d nurse and burp the baby, make and eat some food, then, color with my older daughter for a few minutes. Then, I’d put the baby down to sleep, change my shirt that smelled of sour milk, get something to drink, and read a book to my oldest. And around and around we would go.
Instead of continuously giving until there was nothing left of me, my game brought in many little receiving moments throughout the day. By the evening, I had taken care of myself. I had eaten, I was hydrated, and I had showered—all things that new mothers have no time for.
My game of taking turns, added a rhythm to the endless sea of motherhood. It was fun to think of what would I do on my next turn, so it kept me on my toes. My oldest daughter would also plan what she would need, or want to do, on her next turn. She was very patient with her new sibling because she knew her turn was coming.
Motherhood can be very ungrounding with it’s lack of adult contact and it’s repetitive tasks. Most moms are pretty spaced out when they are stuck at home for days upon days. As an energy healer, I would notice that the moms lived in a floating bubble of energy that had no grounding roots. This was from their isolated world where they nurtured and held children, instead of using their goal-oriented and aggressive energy. As a mom of a new baby, usually at the end of the day, I would wonder, “How did it get this late already?” and “What did I do today?” and “Why is the living room a mess, when I just cleaned it?” My game helped me to stay grounded and in a good mood even though I had no other human contact all day, living way out on a single lane country road.
Many moms let their light grow dim and then feel like they have lost themselves. To keep your spirit alive and bright, you have to connect to the Divine Light. The energy field is made of energy, or light. This high frequency circulates through your body and electromagnetic field, making you feel happy and healthy. It’s like oxygen for the lungs and body—you have to constantly breathe it in. We have to pull energy into ourselves through the vortexes of the energy field to sustain the bubble, or it will go flat, like it’s dehydrated or depleted.
But how to find time to fill with light when all you are thinking about is poopy diapers, spit up, and breast milk? To make sure I kept Divine Light flowing through me, I sang, prayed, and meditated every time I rocked the baby to sleep. I would sit in a rocking chair by the crib or stand and sway with the baby while I sang and prayed out loud.
When she was awake, I would sit on the toy room floor and meditate and journal. She would crawl over my crossed legs while my other daughter played. As I sat with the kids, I would visualize and journal. The energy in the toy room became pure yellow-white light and the Angels would pour in around us from my meditations. I filled the room with music from big speakers and saturated the space with God’s presence. The kids were flooded with this calm power and peace.
Through my career as an energy healer, I just roll my eyes when moms tell me, “You don’t know what it’s like in my house. There is no place or time for me to meditate. I am constantly interrupted.” I learned very quickly to come in and out of meditation and journaling with ease, because as a mom, of course, you get interrupted every couple of minutes. To this day, I don’t think anything of a disruption when I am meditating or visualizing. I just pick up where I left off. If you have little ones at home, you can meditate many times a day in small amounts. We have to let go of the idea that we need a chunk of time alone to be with God, because when you have children in your life, that’s not realistic. So, do your spiritual practice with them all around you. Let them see and feel you bring the power of the Mystery into yourself and into your home.
On some level, this feeling and memory of you pulling in light will be with them forever. They will naturally take care of themselves on all levels as if it is engrained in them. As adults, they will yearn for that feeling of balance, and seek it out. By taking care of your own energy through motherhood, you naturally teach your children how to maintain their own light and happiness.