The last couple months have been tough on my mother. She was hospitalized for complications derived from a bout of Dengue fever, which she contracted in India. The fever excerbated her aging bones which apparently have gone from kinda soft to they can barely support your body anymore. Latest of her trials was the development of rheumatoid arthritis not only in her joints, but in her lungs.
She and I discussed her health. At first I am ashamed to admit I was rather punitive, blaming her for a life of martyrdom, caring for others more than herself. Then it occured to me that while she has truly forfeited her health for the well being of family, friends and possibly her mistaken perception of God's expectations, she was admirably poised to learn the lesson of self love. So I've taken it upon myself to walk her down a path of self celebration, the first time she might have done so in 65 years. This is not so easily done with a woman who believes "Only God can heal me." Yeah, right.
My friend Lourdes, a healer of remarkable power gave me exercises and rituals to perform to assist Mom on her journey. Yesterday I shared these with Mom, along with a prayer she requested. Having grown up fundamentally Christian I have always accessed prayers. But they were the prayers of my elders, long wind-blown affairs that mourned the weaknesses of men and the supremity of an almighty God. That's not how I pray anymore. My communings are more along the lines of acknowledging my own spark of divinity and sharing myself with the universe, whomever might be listening at that moment. And so I prayed for my mother, asking the angels and healer guides to systemically remove pain and return her body into a state of health. Mom's not used to my freewheeling prayers which can be lyrical and downright fun.
She called this morning to tell me she feels better.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment