Beauty from the Ashes

phoenix, a phoenix rising
The phoenix rising from the ashes.

I AM like a Phoenix, rising from the ashes. I’m living through spirit; not my body.

I wish everyone could feel this way; turning wrongs into rights, pain into peace, despair into joy. I live in the moment; not the past, and I try my best to not ever worry about what is to come tomorrow. That is called “faith.” It’s one of many lessons that we have taken on; here on this dense; 3D Earth.

Being able to live from spirit; not the body required a great deal of work. To be honest, I’m not sure if we are ever completely finished. I just know that I have a beautiful life that is full of gratitude for lessons learned and the grace of the Father. I would NEVER trade my life for anyone else’s, or change even one thing that has happened in it. Each one was a lesson in patience and tremendous spiritual growth.

I like many of you started out in my youth attending some kind of “religious” instruction. In my case; Christian. I’m glad I stuck with it as long as I did. There is something to say for standing our ground; no matter the trials or persecutions these “religious” institutions may inflict upon us.

My guides like to use scripture to validate many of my discussions with people. For example; this morning, I was talking to my boyfriend, Chris who is a “born-again Christian.” We were watching a Christian movie on TV, and, like every day, I just can’t help but to interject something pertinent, from my own “beliefs.”

During the discussion, I said something to the effect of, …like in Mathew 15:12 for example.” Now keep in mind, I don’t have ANY of the biblical chapters memorized. I then said to Chris, “Maybe I should look it up!” Sure enough, I looked it up in the Bible, and it was EXACTLY what we were discussing. That is how easy life can be; IF we live through spirit; not the body.

Now here is a 50 year old lesson my Mom had to learn, because she was fighting living through spirit; instead, she was living through the body.

Back in the 60’s my family didn’t have a lot of money. Dad was a carpenter and had to take work where he could find it; sometimes in another town. Mom was a “stay at home-Mom.” She was always there for my brother and I. She was very thrifty; a gardener, a seamstress, and woman that could “do it all.” At the time, my family didn’t have the “money” to tithe, so Mom tithed by “teaching” in Sunday school.

It was her first year teaching, you know, just like Jesus; he was a teacher too. Some time passed, and everything appeared to be going great until, she saw an article in the newspaper. The “church” had made the decision to list the amounts of money that each family tithed in their church, and my Mom was at the bottom of the list: #264 – Louise Moore.

Can I hear anyone say, “OMG!” Well, that was my Mom’s very last appearance as a parishioner, at any church for the remainder of her Christian life.

Leaving a very bitter taste in her mouth, she trudged onward. About the same time, my neighbors; the Schulze’s, with four daughters and a son, were attending another church.

One day, I had a question about a tiny little felt book that Mary had in a box in the attic where we would play. It represented Joseph’s Coat of many colors. The youngest daughter; Ellen told her Mom about the interest I had in it. Mrs. Schultz, also being very thrifty, grabbed the nearest piece of paper and wrote a note. Ellen bounced down the road and handed it to my Mom.

The next day, my Mom told me that I could NEVER go play with them again. The only friends I had for miles were gone; I crashed and burned! The rug was totally pulled out from under me and I now had no friends. It was just me, myself, and I; out in the middle of rural Western NY State.

All of my life, I wondered what was on the note that was so terrible, for my Mom to persecute me and the entire family that I loved. Now, fast forward 50 years.

As the years passed, I would always think fondly of the Schultz family; especially Mrs. Schultz. When I moved home in 2006 for my husband Roger’s healthcare, I thought I’d pay a visit to Mrs. Schultz. Mr. Schulze had passed several years prior, the girls had all moved away, leaving just her in the “big farm house” and Tom in the smaller one. Every time I would look across that long field between our houses, my heart would just sing to me; I love you Mrs. Schulze!

One day, I hopped on my bike, and road down the road. I walked in her old farmhouse’s mudroom, and knocked on the kitchen door, and heard; “Come in!” Not, “Who’s there?” But, “Come in!” This was the woman I remembered; strong and confident.

She didn’t see me out the window as I approached, so I totally caught her off guard. You should have seen the look on her face of utter joy! We had a lovely chat for about an hour. She told me to come back anytime, and I did just that the next week. I told my Mom about our visits and she got a terrible look on her face; but I didn’t let that deter me, I kept up the visits.

On one occasion, I told Mrs. Schulze that if it wasn’t for her, I would have never gone to church and stuck with it. I just felt so driven to attend. I then asked her what happened between her and my Mom, to make my Mom so angry at her.

She told me her version of the story. Apparently, Ellen did see how interested I was in the little book, and Mrs. Schulze did grab the nearest piece of paper to write a lovely letter to my Mom. However, being “thrifty” like my Mom, the piece of paper on the top of her recycled paper was the bulletin from her church.

The innocent note from a 5 year old child, was totally misinterpreted by my Mom. Mom just “assumed” that Mrs. Schulze was the one wanting me to go to church. She “assumed” that Mrs. Schulze “felt” that my Mom was a terrible Mom and Christian; by not taking me to church. I guess that is where, when you “assume” you make an “ass” out of “u” and “me” was derived.

For 50 years these two women did not utter a word to one another over a completely innocent misunderstanding. My mouth nearly fell open. My Mom was persecuted by her own church and just assumed that all Christians were the same. I believe this is called, “judgment.” This is a fine example why judgment should be left up to Father/Mother/God.

I marched home that day and told my Mom, Mrs. Schulze’s version of what happened; she felt terrible. Mrs. Schulze was writing a letter for a 5 year old and her terrible “sin” was to “save a tree” by writing on a church bulletin. I think that I, felt as terrible as my Mom.

By that time, my Mom was bed-bound and 82. I told Mrs. Schulze, who was now 88 that she should come say hi to my Mom, and she did just that too. Each week that old lady, as she liked to be called; literally hunched over at a 90 degree stance, walked down the road, to sit at my Mom bedside, until her death; for nearly 6 months.

Forgiveness is a beautiful thing to see indeed. Judgment turned to forgiveness? It’s like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

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