I have never considered myself a religious person, but rather a spiritual one. Nevertheless, I have had the pleasure of knowing angels who walk among us. They are the protectors of children, the carriers of light, and like a moth drawn to a flame, we are drawn to them. These earthbound angels offer us healing when we are suffering, patience in times of resistance, guidance when we struggle to find balance, and empathy when we feel misunderstood. They are the Matriarchs and Patriarchs of our soul family.
However, there is something truly unique about the divine feminine spirit of the Earth. I, myself come from a long line of strong females. We are fierce warrior women who have struggled to overcome conditions that most would crumble beneath. But you will never hear our battle cries, for we fight fearlessly in the valley of darkness with grace and wisdom, rod and staff defunct.
“For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are naked and open to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account” (Hebrews 4:12-13).
My maternal grandmother often spoke of God and all His glorious wisdom. But, I could never wrap my head around her beliefs; therefore I always rebelled and rejected her knowledge about life and divinity. But there was something so profound in her that I was much too blind to see… then. I have never once witnessed my grandmother angered, boastful or envious, or even perturbed. I have never witnessed her in a state of lack, even when her material resources were completely depleted. I have only witnessed her overflowing with radiance, full of joy and hope with unwavering faith. Her calmness, stillness, presence and peaceful nature can all be attributed to her belief that no matter where this life might take her, Spirit would always protect her and guide her pathway. It is such a great honor and blessing to walk this earth, following her footsteps as a guide.
I have seen my Mother endure some of the toughest hardships I have ever witnessed in my life. There have even been times that those circumstances seemed to get the best of her. Times when her spirit was drowning in depths of despair, but somehow, she always resurfaced, even if battered and bruised. She is resilient and strong in ways that I can only hope to have inherited. And even when she questions her own tenacity, I see the strength of her soul shining from beneath the rubble she feels buried under.
Perhaps one of the deepest blows my mother has suffered was the loss of my grandmother. I can still sense the tragic sadness in my Mother’s heart, her longing to see that sweet smile once more, to hear her laughter and loving encouragement, to feel the warmth of her embrace one last time. I’m not sure that anything could ever prepare us for losing the ones who gave us life itself.
My heart bleeds for her! Seeing the pain residing in her deep brown eyes has spawned a hankering in me to show her the world through the brown eyes she has gifted to me, and I will try with everything in me to do so. For I perceive this chaotic world through the rose-tinted lenses I inherited from the soul of an angel, my grandmother. And I feel I need to remind my mother that I was created from the very best parts of two of the most amazing women ever to have existed in this realm. I have never viewed my grandmother’s absence of form as a loss. How can I when I can feel her spirit in the fragmented energy that surrounds me, and in the warmth of the light that illuminates my world, and even within the very essence of all that I am? She walks with me always, Just as she does with all of the women in my family. She is our angel.
Dena M. Daigle