Relying solely on body language to meet her needs, Suzy realizes, once again, how frustrating the first few years of life on Earth can be. It’s easy to underestimate the difficulty for both child and parent. Thankfully, like childbirth, the discomforts are quickly forgotten once the love begins.
Relying on tears to communicate feels more difficult in this incarnation than in past lives. Perhaps because Don and Helen hold tremendous sorrow, Suzy resists adding to their burden. She feels Helen and Don’s tension when she begins to cry, but they are not mind readers, and there simply is no other way to let them know of her discomfort.
She recalls her impatience in reaching the point of verbal communication in her previous incarnations and that patience, in general, has been a tough challenge for her throughout time. She carries from lifetime to lifetime an extremely vivid imagination and clear visions of what can be, which is a gift and a curse at the same time when things aren’t moving along quickly enough for her liking.
Suzy yearns to sit on the ocean’s shore, listen to the waves, and chat with God, sharing her concerns and joys. She would speak of Don and Helen’s alcohol consumption, the anger and sorrow it seems to conjure. Oh, and she would tell God about Jack’s visit. They would slap their knees in glee, celebrating the healing accomplished by the visit. Jack's stopover was a moment of divine intervention, a time when the Angels worked tirelessly to bring healing and comfort to Suzy's family. They would acknowledge how hard the Angels must have worked in manifesting such a remarkable feat. And, of course, she would also ask God when her friends might be arriving.
Suzy wonders for the first time since birth why she hasn’t been able to visit with God and the Angels since she’s been here on Earth. It seems unnatural, yet some part of her psyche understands it isn’t possible in the human form. And as hard as she tries to remember why, she can’t. At least she has her memories and can call on them for guidance. But a deep knowing has been tugging at her heartstrings, an urgency of sorts, reminding her that she will soon enter the time of forgetting. This is a phase in the spiritual journey where the memories of the divine realm start to fade, and to stay connected to God and the Angels, she will need to depend on her imagination.
It seemed so easy when she decided to incarnate, but as she’s learned in her many lifetimes before, it’s a task to be sure. Suzy's resilience shines through, as she vows to make the most of her gift of memory while it prevails.
God cries softly listening to Suzy’s thoughts, which is not uncommon when one of the heavenly children has entered the human form and is slowly settling into their mortality. This period of “release” is as brutal as ever. No matter the number of times God has practiced letting go, the pain never lessens.
Trusting in their spiritual connection, and knowing Suzy’s strength, God takes a deep breath and releases her to the journey she has chosen, shining light on the part of her that cannot break.1
As Helen lifts Suzy from her crib, Suzy notices a smile on Helen’s lips and comfort in her arms for the first time.
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I heard this phrase in one of Ordinary Elephant’s songs, “the part of me that cannot break.” Isn’t it lovely? Seven words that convey such promise for each of us.
Another great installment in this series, Sue. The way you're threading Tales and Lessons and Life and Love together is making for a magnificent tapestry. See you next week!
Thank you for taking us on this journey with you. This is the book you were born to write. 💞