Oops, I posted this yesterday not knowing Patrick was going to post, so changed the visibility to “draft” the moment I noticed and, as you can see, (duh) am reposting it now.
Yesterday, Rune and I had a wonderful time taking our granddaughter, Arleen, to the Houston Zoo. A few mishaps. First, unbeknownst to us, that was the only free day for the nearby museum so the zoo area was, well, a zoo. Second, the minute we got there, the skies opened up. I looked at the radar on my iPhone and noticed that there was only one little cell and it happened to be right on top of us. That’s okay. I figured we’re waterproof, so we loaded Arley in the stroller, grabbed a couple of umbrellas and trekked from Timbuktoo to the zoo. Two hours of waterlogged fun was enough, and we decided to call it quits, slogged to the car, and hoisted a slightly wilted little flower into the carseat.
Despite her half-mast eyelids, Arleen asked who would be home when we got there. We went through the usual suspects, human and nonhuman, each followed by squeals of delight. When I mentioned that Erik would be there, she said, “No, he’s not going to be there, because he’s in Heaven.” So I said, “Yes, Arleen, he is, but Heaven is right on top of us. It’s everywhere. Erik might just be sitting right next to you.” She looks suspiciously to the seat beside her and then asks, “Well, why can’t I see him?” I knew this wasn’t going to work, but stay with me, folks. I said, “Because Erik is vibrating so fast, our eyes can’t keep up with him.” Then I wiggled my hand as fast as I could keeping my wrist loose and asked her, “Can you see each finger?” Excitedly, she said, “No, I can’t!” I replied,”But you know my fingers are there. And even though you can’t see Erik, he still might be right next to you or even giving you a great big hug.” She smiled.
This morning, we were watching the hummingbirds at the feeder and we revisited our same conversation. “Arleen, look how fast those hummingbirds are flying! Do they have wings?” She giggles and says, “Yes, Mimi!” “Can you see them,” I ask? “No,” she answers. But we all know those tiny hummingbird wings, my Erik, our loved ones are all here. Home is all around us.
It makes me wonder if one can watch the rapid beating of a hummingbird’s wings and train the eye to see the wing instead of the mere gossamer-like flutter. If we can do that, can we learn to see spirits the way Jamie can?
My point is, not seeing our loved ones all has to do with vibrational frequencies and the gap between ours and theres. I’m sure if our souls were vibrating at the same time as those hummingbird wings, they’d look like there were standing still. We’d be able to see every beautiful green feather in high definition. Crystal clear, opalescent. Still. I guess we’ll eventually find that this all comes down to physics, however dry and boring that might sound. Until then, we must rely on faith.
By the way, we already have thirteen people signed up for the grieving parent session which is way too much, so we’d like to divide it into two groups. To make the other group happen, we need some more peeps to consider it. Any takers? Remember, it can be so healing for you to communicate with your child, but it’s so very personal and up to you. In any case, the first group is a go, and the second group will be on hold until five more people sign up!
