“Go sit down and listen,” said the voice of intuition.
Resistance.
“But I have things to do,” I responded, though it was futile because I’m always going to listen to a nudge so clear.
It had something to do with money and resources, I knew it. I picked up the journal I had written in just this morning with “Money, in a good way” written across the front. Money and resources, the topics I revisit, the topics so close to home. I made my way to my purple cushion, my dog took her place at my knees.
I was immediately taken to the naval. My attention guided gently but directly to breathe with the naval, and my digestion immediately responded with a gurgles and sounds.
Regulating the breath, I became aware that I was called to the naval point as the point of connection of the umbilicus.
An awareness of my mother came soon after. I was breathing into the connection with her - a woman I don’t have a relationship with and I’m not sure I ever really knew. I was taken to a memory of a photo I had seen once of her and kept (though I’m not sure if I had permission) because it was so beautiful and not how I knew her. She was a young teacher, in a fall jacket on a blustery day, on a playground surrounded by running children and her hair was blowing around her smiling face.
My mother loved children. I’m just not sure she loved her own first born, me. Not truly, anyway. It’s complicated. So it was significant as I smiled with the memory of the picture and tears fell down my cheeks.
Something was healing.
A year ago, in a family constellations session, it was finally named outright that there had been a theme of sacrifice through the generations. Mothers and daughters. My own first daughter was adopted. My mother sacrificed me, she let things happen. It was related to resources, money, and wealth. In a bad way.
In the vision, what I’d now call a healing or integration, we overlapped. Not all the animosity was gone, but something was concluding. I have not been able to explain the energetics or the soul contract details, but I have known that somehow, in the sacrificing, my mother has had my resources. She has had what belonged to me, and this was a part of why I have struggled. But how does one even put that to words?
Back to the umbilicus. Back to the naval and through, to a vision of my daughter, two days old. In the hospital, dressed in the outfit I’d bought for her to wear to go home with her new parents. A white onesie with little rose buds on it.
In the vision, I was able to feel the softness of the cotton, the roundness of her belly, the fullness of her arms, and again I cried and cried. So long it’s been since I sat with that memory. I could feel her as if it was that day. So round, so full, at nine pounds three ounces. So amazing and wise.
And she said today, guiding me from somewhere, “What would you do for your children?”
Anything.
“What would you give them?”
Anything.
And I cried more and I’m crying now because there is so much I would like to give my son now. I would like to have the resources to take us all away for a beach vacation and watch my son bond with his sister in the way he longs to. I would like to give them the world.
“You have.”
And I feel what I know, that a mother naturally gives. A mother naturally gives anything she has to give.
In placing my daughter for adoption, sending her in roses and prayers and faith (even giving her the name), I gave her the chance to maintain her innocence. I didn’t know it then, the extent of the protection. I saved her from certain inheritances in our lineage. I put her outside of it.
I was in her family’s kitchen one time when she was a late teenager, and she was talking about a friend who had been sexually abused. She said how sad it was, and there, seeing her wrapped in the large, safe walls of her family home, shocked that this would ever happen to anyone, I realized how far she’d been from harm. How safe. How protected - the whole way through. Praise God.
Innocence preserved.
“You would give your children anything.”
It’s true.
She showed me how pure the intention of my heart. Even though there’s so much I wish I would have done differently or could do differently still.
The curse, the curses, they stopped with me.
If that’s the only legacy I ever leave, it will be enough.
But she wasn’t done. She had more for me.
This morning, I pulled a card. A practice I just recently have gone back to as a gentle engagement with the sacred. And the card I’d pulled was “The Rose Garden: Innocence, Forgiveness, Be Gentle With Yourself.”
A rose garden. Her onesie I’d picked out especially for that day, so many years ago. A breadcrumb laid between our souls.
She told me to speak, now, what I would have in my garden. What I would give myself. It’s time for it to come to bloom. I don’t need to struggle, I don’t need to sacrifice myself or shame myself for what more I wish I could have done for my children.
No longer suffering through the lineage of sacrifice. Allowing my garden to fill in, I carefully spoke, but I didn’t hold back. I named the beach vacation, the joy, the ease, and more.
She let me see it all, all that is in store.
It wasn’t about the stuff. It was about the fullness of the garden. The last feeling was such deep and abiding love pouring into my crown, the feeling of being loved well. Replenished.
Back through the naval point now, we weave. Say it with me, please.
May all lineages be restored to the true heart of the Mother.
May all innocence be protected.
May all resources be returned to their rightful owner and may all beings be sovereign.
In a good way.
In a good way.
In a good way.
May the Rose Garden be restored. May all rose buds come to their rightful bloom.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
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