THE HEALER GETS HEALING

This is the story I shared during our online community meeting, Beautiful YOU on Feb 5, 2024.

Yesterday I was noodling around Facebook and I got a FB call.  Since I am a newbie to social media, I am clumsy trying to work Facebook. I have only had a few calls on it.  I didn’t know you could make calls on it until just recently.

The call popped up, but as fast as it showed up, it hung up.

 Even though it seemed most likely a mistake, I felt certain it was intentional. 

It was someone I haven’t seen or spoken to in over 20 years.  And it was 4am. 

Both of those reasons were why I believed it was a call made on purpose.

Since I had missed the call, I sent a DM. 

I timidly asked if she meant to call me.  She replied Yes. 

I asked if she wanted me to talk.  She said, it was random and late.  I told her I am more owl than human, so 4am is a perfect time for a chat.

She called me.

My beautiful second cousin called me.  I heard her voice, that nearly made me melt.  She is all grown up. 

I remember her mostly as a darling little angel.  The smile of a cherub.  She is the daughter of my cousin, who herself, was my little living baby doll.  Her mom was a baby when I was just six or so, and I couldn’t get enough of carrying her around like she was my own baby. 

Now here I was talking to my cousin’s first born, now, a wife and a mother. 

She and her younger sister came over often when they were little.  She and my eldest son, Aaron are just 2 years apart in age.  Her sister and my son Ethyn are the same age.  My son Eli was a baby at the time.  The girls and their golden curls were my little boys’ best friends. 

Both our families moved away from Florida.  I moved to Arizona.  Her family moved to the Carolinas. 

The years passed and we all grew apart.  That happens, whether we mean it or not.  Life moves on and unfortunately, we let time become our distance.  It’s shameful and preventable, but it happens.

I began with a quick, “Hey Kaylea.”

I was very aware that my cousin on the phone had just experienced the most painful event any person on the planet could.  Her baby died on December 29th last year.  He was just 6 months old.  It was completely unexpected.

I don’t know all the details.  That doesn’t much matter, anyway.  I didn’t ask.  It was, after all, 4am. 

You don’t start a conversation with someone you haven’t talked to in two decades at 4am, whose baby just died with, “What’s up?”.

I gently asked, “How are you?”

It seemed trite to ask the most asked question our culture asks robotically.  We ask this question daily, not as an actual question, but as gratuity.  We mostly ask, not because we truly wonder how the person is fairing in life, but because it’s easier to say than, “I’m not really interested in your life right now, I just wanted to give you a polite hello.”  Unfortunately, we have turned the most powerful way to invite someone to open up and share their truth, into a passe remark that is hollow and impersonal.

We have practiced being a fraud daily, asking a question we do not intend to stick around long enough to get a real answer.  And we answer the question as fake as we ask it.

It isn’t the question that’s the issue.  It’s the answer that is. 

We convinced ourselves that we don’t have the time to tell the truth.  We don’t believe anyone wants to hear it either.  And mostly, we don’t want to hear it come out of our own mouth.

So, “How are you?” has become redundant.  Its power unplugged.  Sad and completely reversable.

There is no other way to begin at 4am, with a member of your family you haven’t sent a birthday card to since she was in kindergarten, who now sits on the other side of a Facebook call, wanting to talk to you.

I asked, “How are you?”.  I really wanted to know.

She whispered: “Eh.”  I thought it was a good answer.  It was the truth. 

Before I realized, it was after 6am.

There was no chit chat between us.  We went all in. 

I was surprised to hear her country twang, that made me smile from ear to ear.  My kind of girl.

I found out that we have extremely similar personalities.  We are both frank, upfront and no BS.

We talked about the toughest thing to talk about.  Pain.

And she surprisingly brought up mine.  My pain. 

As we walked down memory lane together, she brought up many painful things that I experienced:  the unexpected death of my first husband to cancer, his drug addiction and infidelity.  She didn’t know all the details.  She remembered him, after all he was a really fun loving guy, and she had heard he had abandoned her cousins, but she didn’t know what happened.

She also brought up my childhood sexual abuse by my father.  She asked me about it, which was something none of my family does.  I know they don’t ask or mention it because they don’t know how. 

But here was my sweet little angel cousin putting it right out on the table.  My pain completely exposed. 

I loved it.  It was so freeing.  And in her kick ass country accent, she said the most meaningful thing she could have said.  Something so unexpected I nearly choked up.

“That was not right.  That was not ok.  That was unfair.  It should never have happened to you.”

Now, I believe that my entire extended family feels the same as she does, but they haven’t said it.  They don’t know how and I get that.

But, sometimes the best thing to do is NOT be quiet.

What I heard from my formerly estranged baby girl second cousin, who probably called me for my help, was, “I got you.” 

What I felt was, “I am standing up for you.”

WOW. 

Healing happening. 

In that moment, though I have been doing healing work for decades in my life work, I felt the holy spirit of healing wash over me.

I felt the power of love and protection stand in front of me, in the form of a brave and bold warrior, spear and all, and her name is Kaylea. 

I felt her spirit saying to the world of my enemies, “Don’t you dare F with her or you will have to get past me!”

I thanked Kaylea for saying that.  For using her words to fight for me.

Here was this woman, a young mother grieving the loss of her child that changed her life only a matter of months ago, calling out my pain and piercing it with her power.

I doubt she will know the magnitude her words meant to me.  There aren’t words big enough to express how her spirit touched mine.  It wasn’t just words of encouragement. 

It was words spoken in war. 

Sometimes we need to feel the weight of war to find our power.  Our pain is real.  Our anger is real.  Our battle is real.

We must muster the warrior within ourselves to fight pain.  There is no fending off here.  You don’t win a war pretending you aren’t in one.

You must get in its face and fight. 

Fight for your right to be heard.

Fight for your right to be pissed.

Fight for your right to let God know that you are mad as hell.

Fight for your right to damn unfairness.

Fight for your right to be free.

Then, you know that you were heard.

You know that you went to war, and you fought the good fight.

You can’t beat unfair, but you can go to hell, and come back better.

You can tell God how you feel, mad at Him, even.  He won’t hold it against you. 

In fact, I think God hopes you will vent to Him.  He wants to know you care enough to let Him in, mad as hell, He gets it.

Then, and I believe, only then, will you win.

Kaylea is at war.  She is smack in the middle of pain.  She is angry and she has a right to be. 

She will need to allow herself permission to be stark raving mad. 

But then, she will have to learn to let it go, so she can be free.

Kaylea’s Baby Rhett will be missed.  His death, totally unfair.

But, Kaylea herself, answered her own question she first asked me.

“Why did God take my baby from me?”

My only answer was, “I don’t believe he was taken from you, Kaylea.”

Kaylea said that Rhett was born on the day her stepsister died, another unexpected death. 

She kept saying that over and over.  “Why did God take him away, when he came on the day she died?”

She said it was unfair.

She also repeated over and over,” He was loved while he was here.  He only knew love while he was here.  He was with his family, sleeping between his mommy and daddy, when he died.  He knew nothing but love.”

I finally said, “Kaylea, didn’t your baby come on the day you and your family needed comfort?  Didn’t Rhett come when your family needed to believe in love?  Didn’t he give love back to you and your family, while he was here?”. 

“Maybe he came to love and be loved, and he did what he came to do.”

I don’t have an answer to why.  I don’t know what happens after we die.

I can only see what we have while we are here.

This is what I see:

Six months of pure love. 

Six months of comfort, joy, and a life of bliss.

Six months of hugs, cuddles, and kisses.

Six months of giggles, toothless smiles and pulling hair and fingers with the grasp of a vice grip that only babies can do.

Six months of memories that will last a lifetime.

I know Kaylea is on a healing journey.  It is not a fast one, nor short one.  It will last a lifetime.

I know because I am on it too.  You don’t get off this train.  But it’s not a trip to hell.  There’s a visit from time to time, I’m not going to lie.  But it’s not a one-way ticket.  You leave faster once you learn how.

It’s unfair, Kaylea.  You are right about that.

But unfair is what gives us a secret advantage, if we accept it as a power, not just pain.

Our pain doesn’t have to be suffering.  It has power within it. 

Kaylea is a fireball.  She called herself the rebel, and I believe her.  Like her older second cousin she was on the call with, she is bad ass.  I am so proud of her. 

She has an amazing love story.  She spotted her then future husband from a zip line.  She even spoke their union into existence, telling her friend she would marry him if she didn’t already have a boyfriend at the time.  And no surprise, once the chance opened up, Kaylea married the man she called into her future while flying through the air! 

Kaylea and her husband have a 2-year-old son named Jude.  This baby’s smile is contagious. He is what you feel when you fall in love.  I haven’t met him in person, but just a simple photo of him causes your heart to overflow with sweet love.

There is no replacement for Rhett.  But there is nothing missing when there is love.  It’s not surprising to me that Kaylea has Jude.  I don’t know if Kaylea meant to name her first born after one of the most famous songs in the world, but when I think of the song, “Hey Jude” I think of her beautiful baby boy. 

“Hey Jude” is a love song and a call to action.  The song is from a friend to a friend, giving him permission to love and a charge to make sad things better. 

The song is about how to love; we have to go for it, let it into our hearts, feel the pain love brings, but don’t carry it around on our shoulders; then let go of the pain and begin to make your life better.

Baby Jude is here to make his family better.  Baby Jude makes a sad song better.  Baby Jude is the love that his mommy needs to let into her heart, that will make her better.  Baby Jude is not afraid to love because he is love. 

And for me, my dear second cousin, gave me the gift of her love.  She spoke truth over me. 

She called out, my pain.  She lovingly reprimanded my family members who didn’t step up for me, which helped me release them from my buried resentment.  She covered me. 

She did it without knowing. 

She made me better.   Thank you, cousin.

I love you, Kaylea.  You are so beautiful. 

I wrote this the day I spoke to Kaylea.  I wrote through the tears of pain, tears of grief and loss.  But also tears of joy and healing.  Tears of love. 

As I wrote about Kaylea and Baby Rhett and her sweet Jude, I felt the pain turn into power. 

I know it might be hard to see it, but trust me, Kaylea’s pain has purpose.  Her story is a love story. 

This story, right here in this moment, is a love story. 

And me sharing my moment with Kaylea, with you, is now part of my love story too.

Kaylea is living her love story and it is only the beginning of her hero’s journey.

A story of a young mother at war.  A sister of an addict, war.  A daughter of a divorce, war.  A mother of a 2-year-old, who will live his life knowing that his baby brother died before he got to know him, war. 

A living son who will be shadowed by his brother’s death, war. 

All wars Kaylea must fight to the death.  She must kill her anger at death and betrayal and depression, and defend her right to forgive, let go, bless and release, breathe, and love more deeply than ever before.

Now this story is part of your love story, too.  It is an overcomer story.  A hero’s story.  And its’ only just begun.