I was communing with the trees this morning, and we spoke of the ancestors. (Yes, I talk with trees like the character in my first novel, Grandfather Poplar.) Trees hold their kindred in spirit as dearly as we do. Their memories remain in the trees that still live. We all retain the collective memory of our kin anchored deep within. The trees acknowledge the ones who came before and still think of them as living beings. Death is merely a passage, yet they treasure each moment of life and remain as long as they can, serving their purpose, living their light. Trees stay connected fully to their ancestors in spirit. Their kinship remains unbroken.
I often pray for the ancestors and try to live in a way that will honor them and their legacy and heal the family line of suffering. I believe our prayers can create a sacred space to extend pure love and grace through all the realms. May we relinquish all that we and our ancestors have held of trauma, fear, loss, and pain. May we unburden the ancestral lines for ourselves and for those who come before and after us.
In my heart and soul, I feel strongly that a moment of pure love reverberates through time and space and passes through all boundaries. We can send love into the past, present, and future and beyond the veil to all our kin and dear ones who are gone from the physical world. They feel our every memory and all the love we send.
Several years ago, my first cousin’s wife restored some black-and-white photos of the Henderson clan from over a century ago. I never met many of them because they died before I was born. I was thrilled by the photos and felt such an outpouring of love for every one of them. On the night I received the photos, they all came to life in a dream, and we had a most joyful celebration. The ones whom I never met were so happy to see and know me, and I was overjoyed to meet them and to reunite with those I had known and loved.
Trust that even now your loved ones in spirit are sending you love.
© copyright Lillian D. Henderson