Angels in the Super Shuttle

Swing low, sweet chariot. Coming for to carry me home.  A band of angels coming after me. Coming for to carry me home.

When I was three, my parents decided to get divorced.  We were living in California at the time, and my dad moved to Council Grove, Kansas, to accept his first job as an ordained minister.  This began the chapter in my life of Winter Breaks and Summers with my Dad in Kansas, and the rest of the time with my Mom in California.

Sometimes the transitions were very difficult and I would scream and cry in confusion and defiance towards all the changes and separations.   At times, I felt very lonely. Yet, I was never alone.

Angels.

One night when I was 4 or 5, I was laying in my bed in Kansas feeling a bit dark and sad.  I felt a presence of light and love next to my bed and I heard the words, "Forgive them.  It's not their fault. It's not your fault.  It just is."

So I did.  Thank you, angels.

Around age 7 or 8,  I begged my dad to let me wake up for a meteor shower that was scheduled for 2:15 A.M. He said no, due to the timing of the event.  I asked my angels to "Please, please, PLEASE wake me up in time to see the magic."  I sat up in bed at 2:12.

Thank you angels.

I was never truly alone.  I had my angels.  They helped me through much of my childhood.  I talked with them, laughed with them, shared secrets about my crush on Will, the seventh grader who could sing like an angel.

Then, around 4th grade, I stopped hearing them or seeing their light.  Until last weekend, I didn't understand why they had abandoned me. 

This weekend, at my Spiritual Psychology program, I uncovered a deep, dark memory of being about 8 years old and feeling like I had done something horribly wrong to another child.  Instead of recognizing the experience as a learning moment, normal experimentation, and "not that big of a deal", I decided I was awful, a monster even. 

At 8 years old I concluded that my humanness could not be trusted, that my touch was dangerous, and I was a bad person.   My whole life, I thought the angels left me because I was so awful.

I decided to embark on an incredibly deep experience of self-forgiveness.  I shared my story with a safe, loving listener and I recognized all the judgments and limiting beliefs that surfaced from this short moment in time.

I went back to the 8 year old child and held her, telling her she did not do anything wrong or bad.  She is a beautiful, loving, spirit.  She is always safe, always loved, always protected.  And I believed it.  I re-framed the whole experience as part of my life's curriculum and an experience that was necessary for my healing, growth, and spiritual evolution.

Through this healing process, I have come to embrace mySelf, my inner 8 year old, and my Divinity, and most of all my GORGEOUS, PRECIOUS HUMANNESS in a whole new way.  I truly feel reborn, baptized in the spirit, and washed clean. I trust my physical body and my healing touch again.  I feel my inner and outer beauty like a graceful bird who is spreading her wings for the first time.

At one point during this process, I looked up at the sky and said, "God, do you forgive me?"  I heard rolling laughter and the answer that came touched me to the core.  "Of course, if that was really my job, I would forgive you.  But, how can I forgive, when I do not judge?  You need to forgive yourself.  You are the one who chose the judgment."

So I did.  And when I felt the forgiveness wash over me like a white light or crystal river, I saw my heart, large, shining and full of Love.  Yet, there was a bit of dirt, darkening a part of my heart.  Then, I heard a flutter, and a pair of wings flashed into my vision and washed off the dirt.  My heart was clean.

Thank you Angels.

It was in that moment that I heard them, their music.  In that moment, I felt their light and warmth.  "We have never left you. Not for one moment. You chose not to see or hear us.  We celebrate this homecoming with you, Beloved."

Swing low, sweet chariot. Coming for to carry me home.  A band of angels coming after me. Coming for to carry me home.

This morning, at 5am, I stepped into my Chariot.  The Super Shuttle taking me to LAX.  As I opened the door to the van, I was greeted by an amazing love-filled face. 

This beautiful woman and I struck up a conversation.  We connected on a deep soul level.    What is your life's work?" I asked her.

"I practice the art of healing touch, Reiki." she responded.  I felt my heart warm as I looked into her eyes.

"And I communicate with angels," she said.

She handed me her card.

It read:  Leah Sherman, Healing Touch Practicioner, Certified Angel

A band of angels coming after me, coming for to carry me home.