When someone is going through an illness, death, break up, or general hard time, I will hold them in a space of Love and Wholeness and I will send healing energy their way. It is something I do naturally and consciously. And, when loved ones ask for energetic support, I impart it. Willingly.
I have had the experience of being called into hospitals in the middle of the night because a friend’s loved one was in renal failure and the kidneys respond really well to energy work. I have been called into the space of death and dying so that I could support the living and the dying. I have held sacred space in hospitals, waiting rooms, churches, office buildings, and parks. I feel very honored to be called to serve humanity in such a way.
Recently, a friend of mine posted this picture on Facebook:
The caption on the picture read: Yeah well anyone who wants to borrow my truck in the future will have to look elsewhere. 🙁 I will be out of Hospital once the doctor is done checking me out.
I didn’t see this picture when he originally posted it, but when he tagged me and my best friend in one of the comments, directly requesting that she and I send healing energy his way, I did see it.
When I pulled up the post, I nearly fainted because, you see, back in January, 2013, my best friends’ daughter, son-in-law, unborn grandson, and 5 grand-dogs were all killed in a horrible accident. They were driving a red pickup truck that was smashed to smithereens, much like the above truck was.
Tears sprang to my eyes as I remembered the images from that day, as I remembered the horror and the heartbreak. As I remembered my best friend calling me immediately when she heard and the only thing that she could choke out was, “Angie! They’re dead! They are ALL! DEAD! Kel and Garrett and Sage… they’re dead… the dogs…” and then she dropped the phone and I could hear her sobbing.
I sat there, staring at the picture for a few moments, the past crossing over the present and I felt sick with worry and fear. I hadn’t actually absorbed that the caption read that my friend was okay because, in my mind’s eye, all I could see was that damn red truck. All I could see was the shattered glass, the destroyed red truck, and the memories from 2013.
When I regained my composure and reminded myself it was 2014, I scrolled through the posts that were beginning to collect in the thread following the picture. People were really freaked out and I added my comments to the growing list. From the bottom of my heart, I wrote:
I am sending love and healing energy your way, Michael. Thank you for requesting. I am so glad you walked away in one piece. Wondering… this is a really big Universal 2’x4’… any idea what direction the Universe wants you to head now?
I closed my eyes and pictured Michael, holding him in a space of love and healing and strength. I kept dancing around the images of Kel and Garrett and Sage, trying to remember that I was in 2014, not 2013. I was so sad, all over again, that they were gone and, at the same time, relieved that Michael was alive.
I breathed deep and then my Messenger notified me that I had a private message. Seeing that it was from Michael, I felt my heart drop, wondering what horrible news would be uncovered.
The message read:
APRIL FOOLS SUCKA !!!!
I stared at the screen, unable to process what I was reading. I couldn’t quite grasp it because I was in this tender, vulnerable space of hurting for the loss of my loved ones and having that experience cross over what was happening in the moment. I breathed deep, tears spilling down my face – why I was crying, I don’t know, but I was.
Then I got good and pissed!
I was angry that he had pulled such a horrible prank. I was angry because I had been scared. I was angry because he had purposely called out me and my best friend – whose daughter’s entire family had been killed in that accident in a red pick up truck – to make sure we had seen his wicked prank. I was angry because it seemed really cruel.
I had no idea what to say to him. So I said nothing.
Later on, I interacted with him and asked permission to share this experience because it had impacted me so adversely. Then I asked if our friend had responded, adding, “Something tells me that a banged up red truck with a shattered windshield and crushed front end would not be a funny April fools joke for her.”
He admitted at that point that he hadn’t even given it a thought, that it had never crossed his mind. He said that it was only in hindsight that he could see that it had been in poor taste. He never apologized though. And I was left with this seed of anger and hurt.
Every one of us at one time or another has had the opportunity to experience the taste of our own shoes. We’ve said something that sounded funny in our head, but when it was hanging over the crowd like an angry thunderstorm waiting to burst, we could see the error of our ways. We’ve chosen to prank someone, only to discover we hit on one of their tender nerves or we’ve teased somebody and later discover that it scarred them for life.
When you discover that you have caused another pain, you have the opportunity to be accountable for your actions. While it is everyone’s choice how they respond to their own emotions, it is your choice to be clear about inflicting pain on others. If you discover you’ve been unintentionally cruel, take accountability for it and apologize. See if there is something that can be done to mend the wound you opened up.
If you are the person on the other end of the prank – the one who is now feeling gullible for falling for the hoax or angry because your good nature was trampled on, you also have a choice. How will you respond? Are you going to hold a grudge? Are you going to yell? Are you going to forgive and move on?
Forgiving is the surest way to a speedy recovery. Whether or not the other person has been accountable for the pain they’ve caused, whether or not they have said they’re sorry, you still have the choice to forgive. That forgiveness is not for them; it is for you – for giving you freedom.
So what did I do with my anger? Well… I danced ferociously to some awesome drum music and then I wrote an article about it. Writing is how I process things that I don’t want to get lodged deep inside.
And, now that this article is done, the anger has dissipated and all that is left is an aching tenderness of the memories of Kelsey’s death that were brought to the surface inadvertently by someone who was simply playing fun. I’m hoping that the image of that red truck will soon evaporate. It is still tormenting me when I close my eyes.
© Angie K. Millgate 4/1/14
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