Thursday, June 15, 2023

Overcoming Fear, Little by Little: An Angel Message

Last night a thunderstorm woke me from a restful sleep.  Lightning flashes, heavy rains, high wind.  Thoughts and prayers turned to the birds and animals, all life, with gratitude to His angels for protection.  I recited Psalm 91 in my head, and soon a long-forgotten hymn wafted in, a memory from childhood.  "Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, calling to you and to me... Come home...come home... ye who are weary come home."  The soothing melody calmed my anxious nerves.  And, I envisioned waking up the next morning to the dawn of a new day, enjoying a bowl of oatmeal in the sun-room.  Thankful, the storm had passed...

And, what a wonder early this morning, Elliot and I talked about how the high winds had toppled over a large urn with a tall artificial tree, making a mess, strewing pebbles all over the porch floor.  In contrast, the hanging baskets of  dainty white geraniums and lacy vinca outside our bedroom window were still suspended on the garden pole without a single blossom ruffled.    

My throat was dry and I began making a clucking noise.  Hei-Hei sprang up on the bed as if he recognized the language.  "It's a turkey cluck!  I realized, as the cat gave me the strangest look. Getting out of bed, Elliot spotted the return of the turkeys! Only this time he counted twelve.  The family was safe and sound. To celebrate their safe passage through the storm, I hurried out the back door with a cup of cracked corn and tossed it on the grass before they arrived.  

It worked.  

Hei-Hei- sprawled out on the porch, watching the happy brood of 12  peck away at the corn.  God is good.  Not only were we safely delivered through the storm, but prayers were answered for the wild turkeys and our sandhill crane family.    

One more thing...

During the storm I thought about the tiniest lizard I'd ever seen. How would he fare, alone in the heavy rain and wind.  I'd seen him early that evening while watering the geraniums in their clay pots. A sudden rustle of leaves caught my attention.  A newborn lizard scurried up a geranium stem.  Near the top, he hung on tight as if the full red blossom were his umbrella.  Such a cute little creature, no bigger than my finger nail, I grabbed my camera.

The baby lizard stayed still as my eyes drank in how precious was this tiny little creation.   In that moment, I realized how much I'd changed.  Over the years, my dreadful fear of lizards had turned to love, and I marveled at how this tiny creature had suddenly appeared, out of nowhere to teach me that little things are big things to me. 

Lizards represent dream-time, a letting go of old fears to embrace a new beginning.  And, later this morning, as I walked by the pots of red geraniums on the wrought iron bench, I called out to the little fellow. I think Elliot thought I'd lost it.  But the baby lizard was there.  He peeked out from a geranium, safe and sound, ready to begin a new day.

I'm so grateful to believe in angels and receive the protection and blessings of their heavenly vision to see all things through a lens of divine love.  Faith grows in a garden.

 Love and peace,

Rae Karen