I awoke this morning to the sound of my son vomiting on the floor next to my bed. My husband nursed him for an hour before I took over. I set him up on the couch with a pillow and blankie, Saltines, a cup of water, and a tupperware container. It’s just after noontime now, and he’s thrown up into that container about six more times. Poor baby.
I asked him if I could do a little Reiki (a Japanese practice of healing hands) on him, and he weakly nodded his head while he stretched his body long on the couch. I said my invocation aloud: “I invoke the divine light of the creative source within. I am a clear and perfect channel. I am light. I am love.” A few ritual steps later, I was laying my warm hands on his head, beginning the healing practice.
His dark eyes raised to mine and silently said, “Thank you for helping me, Momma.” I smiled and slowly moved my hands down his body, resting on his chest, his quickened heartbeat slowing under the weight of my palms. I watched his veins pulse to the rhythm of his heart and repeated my invocation, pausing on the phrase “creative light within.”
I’ve uttered those words during healings plenty of times, believing that I am the channel for something divine that lives outside of myself, imagining a gorgeous light funneling into my body through my crown chakra to strengthen my energy and inspire healing. As if divine energy comes to me because I call for it. As if I am inviting it for a boost of strength.
Feeling my son’s heart beat under my hands, I suddenly realized that I am the source. I am the divine. God is whole within me. I don’t invite energy into my body; the power is not outside of myself. I don’t invoke it from the great beyond. I release it through my own ego’s surrender. The creative source is within me and my chakras are the portals that connect my energy to the those in the universe who are available to me. Like my baby boy.
I set my ego aside so that the purest light and love within me (that exists within each of us), could shine and connect and heal. I touched my forehead to his and whispered, “You are sick for me today. To teach me this lesson. And I’m so grateful.” My throat felt tight and my ears pulsed as tears started to burn my eyes. “I’ve learned the lesson, buddy. You don’t have to be sick anymore. No more throwing up.”
I sat and reflected for a moment, thinking about all the lessons kids teach parents, thinking about the sacrifices they make for us so we can learn the power of love. I imagined my son and I as two souls long before our birth, planning our journey together, him saying, “I’ll feel this pain so you can learn, because I love you.”
Our children are our greatest teachers. Today I’m understanding this old saying in a whole new light.
From mine to yours,