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Thursday, October 11, 2018

How Wings Grow



How Wings Grow.

"I can't even say his name" she whispers. She is alone. She is naked. Hot tears roll down her face landing in the bath water. The echos of her sobbing heart bounce off the bathroom walls and cut her ears like knives. She is breathless, broken, left behind. 

"You know what you must do" her angels reply. 

She dips further down into the bath submerging her head. Here it is quiet. She lets the hot salty water rinse through her ears and brush through her hair. If she could only hold her breath longer and stay under forever. Unwillingly she emerges and catches her breath.

"You know what you must do" the message is repeated, this time in a gentler voice.

She squeezes her eyes shut. Her body is tense. If she doesn't do this now, she never will. It feels as though it will kill her, but the alternative is a lifelong sentence of misery. She musters up every ounce of herself and begins. 

Her lips quiver with vulnerability. Her lungs pull in just enough air. His name is reverently spoken followed by words that will finally set her free. It fills the space around her in a silky whisper only angels can understand. 

"I forgive you." 

The hardest part of forgiveness is not pretty. It is not showy or some gallant event that you would later brag about. It is messy, filled with snot and sweat and much resistance. It is private, gruesome, and raw. And it is necessary. I will never forget a message I heard from my angels once teaching me that I could not hold a grievance and peace from God in my heart at the same time. When the ultimatum was given, I chose God. I continue to choose my connection to Him over anything else. This is Mysticism at its finest. You might feel scared, hurt, defensive and spiteful. You might think of cursing or seeking revenge. But the heart of the Mystic knows what she must do to stay magical. She must continue unbinding herself from hate. It is a process, and depending on the wound she might make several attempts before it is complete. Each time a Mystic forgives, her wings grow a little taller. Those hard conversations with God in the dark give birth to the brightest lights. If you are struggling with a grievance in your heart,  I will tell you the same thing my angels tell me all of the time, "You know what you must do." 

From my wing tips to yours. 





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