When the storms come in the spring and I begin to feel afraid of them, I remember a night when I was still a child. My youngest brother had just been born only a couple of weeks before, when a grandmotherly woman named Mrs. Goodchild came to stay with us because my mother was in the hospital. Something was dreadfully wrong with her, and as a child my youthful imagination was in total control of my emotions. The gentle and very kind Mrs. Goodchild tried to calm my fears, but nothing could make the tears and panic subside as I sobbed alone barely catching my breath in the darkness of my room. My thoughts were bringing feelings that I wanted to die too if that is what was happening to my loving mother. Then suddenly, in the corner of my darkened room stood a powerful glowing figure. My swollen watery eyes tried desperately to focus. What was being imparted to me, an extremely frightened, confused, and sad child, somehow quickly created an incredible calm and feeling of assurance that everything was going to be alright. Whoever it was, whatever was said to me, all the feelings of fear had disappeared. No longer did I need to worry about my mother. I knew everything was going to be perfectly alright and unbelievably, before I knew it, I fell sound asleep. I don’t remember what happened the next day, but my Mother soon returned home from the hospital and she is still very much a part of my life.
When I was only 10 years old, my memory of something coming to comfort me, was so indescribable, but also one of the most memorable moments of my young life. How could those moments in my room have calmed me if it were not a real event?
Now I can tell myself, everything is going to be OK. The long scary nights will come to an end. Someone is still watching over me. I smile at the thought and sing my Hallelujah’s again as I imagine a chorus of angels joining me. Imagination can be a very scary thing, or bring the heavenly angels to my side.
When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high, and don’t be afraid of the dark.
At the end of the Storm is a golden Sky and the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart and you will never walk alone.
The painting above is of a street in Dublin, Ireland at night. I am putting together a workshop for Artists, Writers, and Explorers this May to Ireland. If you are interested in joining me on this journey to the land of the Irish contact me. Only a few spaces left!