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Christmas in July?

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This short story from The Michael Saga, “Star of Hope,” offers respite from the chaos and despair of the daily news. Michael Browne and Melody Childress, two of 144,000 incarnated angels, find themselves in the midst of a world filled with turmoil and despair. The year after they find each other, as Christmas approaches, Michael and Melody ache to fulfill their mission and restore peace and hope to humanity. They reach out to their leaders, Archangels Metatron and Michael, and work together to shift the world.

If you need to feel uplifted in any season of the year, this story may help! I chose to write a story free from conflict. While the characters refer to the troubles in the world, the story focuses entirely on rising beyond fear and restoring hope.

Full description of The Michael Saga:

The Michael Saga tells the story of angels who have incarnated on Earth in order to bring healing and enlightenment to the world. They descend into matter without the gift of remembering their origins in order to experience life from a truly human perspective. Their arrival in the world of form is arranged to ensure that each of them will have reached adulthood by the time they are most needed. Early in the first book of the series, 20-something Michael Browne and Melody Childress, emissaries from the orders of Archangels Michael and Metatron, begin the journey of recalling and reawakening to their assignments. When they find each other, an immediate sense of recognition and connection leads them to discover together the gifts and the costs of being incarnated angels.

The first book in the series, Gathering of Angels, brings together the 12 leaders of the 144,000 incarnated angels with their mentors, the 12 archangels, atop Glastonbury Tor in the darkest time of the year. Once the 12 find one another, their true work begins: saving the planet and renewing the plan of light for all life.

As the series progresses, readers will come to know all 12 of these leaders among the angels born to Earth as well as the 12 archangels who watch over them. Each incarnated angel experiences awakening, challenges, and loss, and all are transformed on the human level by the path they must walk. As the shadows gather around the world, seeking to diminish the light and forestall the period of enlightenment and grace that could result from the service of these incarnated angels and their heavenly counterparts, all 144,000 will need to rise into service and live the light to its utmost.

These angelic beings embarked on this mission will full awareness of the difficulties they would face when the moment arose that they must heed the call to service. Yet life appears considerably easier while in the octaves of light than it does once in the earthly realm in the midst of all the chaos, emotion, and dissonance. Now, as humans, these incarnated angels must discover the means for living divinely and create the blueprint for others to do the same. Will they be able to rise into their gifts, align with their deepest truths, and illuminate a world seemingly lost in shadow? Join Michael, Melody, Yas, Alistair, Anaishe, and the others as they learn to see in the darkness, to rise above its pull, and reach the state needed to invite all humanity to claim their birthright of love, freedom, peace, and illumined consciousness.

As they learn to become more fully the beings of light they are while maintaining their human aspect, many angelic gifts will unfold. For readers who embrace this journey profoundly, the books in the series may serve as a means to regain buried wisdom, to embrace a deeper understanding of the angelic realm, to unlock esoteric truths, and to awaken hidden pathways to a higher reality. Through the experiences of these characters, readers may find paths to healing and to enhanced connection to the angels.

Imagine you are an angel who is offered the great duty and honor of incarnating on Earth, but you are told you have to release all knowledge of your life beyond the physical world in order to evolve as a human. You accept this assignment knowing you will have help. A full legion of 144,000 is born into the world of form along with you, and all of you must drink from the fountain of forgetfulness. The leaders of your kindred of light, all the archangels of the 12 tribes of Creation, watch over you as you learn to be human. But one day, when the time is right, you must remember what it means to be divine. And you must share that understanding with all the world.

Diana’s Books

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Do you believe that worlds exist beyond this one? Do you long to step into another realm, to experience another perspective? If so, you’re welcome here.

The novels of Diana Henderson focus on a reality that lies just outside our own—a world in which humans can communicate with trees, nature beings, spirit guides, and angels. Characters often stumble into the mysteries of the hidden realms in these books. In Grandfather Poplar, the title tree speaks to Melissa to get her to stop annoying him. In The Michael Saga, the world awakens because of a persistent sound, but for a few brave incarnated angels, that resonance is a call to service and a trigger to begin their mission.

The characters in these books walk between the worlds. As they learn, dear reader, you are invited to discover as well and to awaken the truths that lie hidden deep within your own soul. 

Archangel Book of Days: A Year of Daily Inspiration and Blessings is a nonfiction, inspirational book is now available in both e-book and paperback on Amazon and through other online booksellers. The e-book version contains a bonus of 15 pieces of Diana’s ascension art.

Saying Goodbye

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It’s been a tough year for us. My nephew died suddenly in February, and my eldest sister, Susan, died in May. We shared a lifetime of precious moments. This poem is for my beloved sister whom I’ll remember and love all my days.

Bring the Rain

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As of mid-April 2026, 82 counties in North Carolina are classified as severe drought. I invite anyone who is willing to meditate with my rain bringer art and pray, intend, and/or envision rain in our area and all others in need of assistance.

To My Dear Nephew Steven

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This is a particularly sad poem. As I mourn the passing of my nephew, these days find me steeped in sorrow that needs expression. Sometimes writing or creating art allows sadness to dissipate and helps us transmute what otherwise might overwhelm the psyche.

Let us remember love’s refrain
Echoing time and time again
Walk with me in the pouring rain
Until we wash away all the pain
Let go the dreams that have been slain
Cleansing the tears and bloody stains
Suture the sorrow’s open veins
Releasing aches that yet remain
Both the sublime and the profane
Walk in the sunlight free of chains

—Diana Henderson
© 2026 Lillian D. Henderson

A Plea to Save the Forests

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The following is an excerpt from Grandfather Poplar. In an effort to save her favorite forest, main character Melissa writes to the county commissioners. This is a passage from her letter.

© copyright 2005 Lillian D. Henderson

Playing alone, many times I was the only human witness to the forest wonders: flying squirrels leaping from limb to limb, opossums carrying their babies on their bellies, young wrens taking their first flights, deer pausing to drink at the stream in early morning, the water flowing slowly as it glinted with sunlight amid the reflections of the trees. I’ve seen rainbows kiss the treetops and sunsets blazing through the forest in fiery hues. I’ve looked on as countless butterflies danced together in the summer. I’ve watched falling leaves in autumn glowing brightly beneath the waning sun as they spiraled to the forest floor, sprouting blossoms in the spring and summer that scented the air with sweetness, tendrils of sunlit spider webs fluttering in the wind, robins pecking the ground for juicy grub worms, hawks gliding high in search of prey. I’ve seen what seemed like a thousand starlings descend upon the trees and then suddenly ascend at once, murmuring against a cloudless sky. Once when I was younger, a red fox walking upwind from me came within five feet before he caught my scent and stood stunned and motionless for just a second before high-tailing it in the other direction.

I remember the time before Christmas when I was eight. My daddy took us out in the woods to cut down a small cedar. But he finally changed his mind because I cried and pleaded the whole way, begging him relentlessly not to kill one of my tree friends. That’s how I feel about them, you see. They are my friends—every tree, every animal, every rock, every insect and arachnid (except maybe mosquitoes and ticks), every fern, mushroom, or weed in those woods. Just like I’ve witnessed the quiet miracles of nature there, they’ve looked on as I grew and became the person I am now. They’ve stood beside me while I argued with my brother, while I cried about something someone said or did to me, while I complained about school or chores. They’ve inspired me, supported me, listened to me, shaded me in the heat and sheltered me in the rain.

Melissa’s feelings about trees and forests express my own. I have lived alongside trees all my life and have loved them always. Please join me in caring for the trees and saving the forests. Contact government officials and implore them to save our national forests and to maintain the Roadless Rule that keeps the wild places from harm (if already rescinded, please contact to reinstitute it). Without the trees, humans will not survive for long. The forests are this planet’s lungs. We need them to live.

The Magic of Forests

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Something happens when I stand beneath the trees in our wee forest here on the land. The poplars, pines, sweetgums, and other trees emit an energy that literally soothes the senses. I shift from whatever state of mind I’m experiencing into one of serenity. Peace washes over me. The magic of the forest comforts me and aligns me with the truth of my heart. It happens every time.

I know many people love the ocean for this same wondrous capacity, but for me the forest always beckons and never disappoints. Perhaps my kinship with the trees makes this especially noticeable for me. I only know I feel more in harmony beneath the canopy of trees than anywhere else in the world.

In my 68th spring upon this good earth, I still feel wonder at the beauty around me and grace among the trees.

Unwelcome Dream

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I awakened today weeping. My chest heaved from sobs that brought me out of the dream.

When I was a child, I had a favorite hickory tree whom I often climbed. Although her lowest limbs were a good six feet off the ground, I managed to shinny up so I could hang upside down from those sturdy branches. This jovial tree never seemed to mind that she was my personal monkey bars. In my dream, this tree had grown tall and mighty, but her life was being threatened. Many of my other childhood tree friends were already gone in the dream.

I climbed high in her branches, chained myself to her, and began to shout to those who waited to take her life that I would not let them. I pleaded with them as a crowd of neighbors gathered, and soon someone called the news station. As I spoke passionately to the people there, I could not hold back the tears. I began to sob uncontrollably. This yanked me out of the dream, my chest still heaving as I held my hand over my heart.

The trees of the world are crying out to us as surely as the ones who wept as our neighbors cleared the land all those years ago when I was overwhelmed with the understanding that I had to write Grandfather Poplar (see blog at https://grandfatherpoplar.com/2015/12/08/65/). It’s time to save our friends who offer us so much. 💚🌳🌲

Grandfather Poplar, the novel, is available on Amazon at http://bit.ly/GrandfatherP.

Memories at Dusk

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My favorite part of summer days was always dusk. As a kid that time meant our work in the garden followed by stringing beans and shucking corn was well behind us, our bellies were full of the food we farmed, and we could sit on PawPaw and MawMaw’s back porch listening to the katydids and crickets calling to each other as the sun set behind the forest I so loved. On lucky evenings, a cooling breeze wandered among the flora touching our skin with its soothing notes of scented jasmine, and the air dripped sweetness into the song of the oncoming night. Our walk this evening echoed with memories of what once was as we let the stillness of the moonlight wash over our psyches and embraced the passing of another day. ~ Diana Henderson

Nightfall

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I went outside at dusk, and as usual the evening spoke to me as it softly knelt to kiss the Earth.

As the crickets sing to one another in their evening chorus,
A lone bird wings his way home,
And the silken moon illumines a clouded canopy.
Starless yet serene,
The shroud of gray blue ushers in the night.

copyright 2017 Lillian D. Henderson

Broken Beloved

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This one may be sad but these words found my heart on Sunday afternoon when I saw this beautiful, broken-winged swallowtail. 💛🦋

Beloved, broken wingèd one,
Though your life nears its end,
Still you flit among the flowers
And dance upon the wind.
You shall not count the hours
That remain beneath the sun
But in sweetness each moment spend
Until the journey’s done.

copyright 2017 Diana Henderson

 

Dream Journeys

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Last night I dreamed I was a condor soaring over the Andes. When I awakened, the feeling of flight remained like the whisper touch of moonlight shimmering through the senses. And somewhere quietly sustained at the edges of my consciousness, the brushing of wings.

In Grandfather Poplar, dreams are often more than they seem. Melissa’s “sleep travels” with her spirit guide frequently reveal important truths or provide insight into past and future events.

Adahy and Melissa went far afield in this journey. He transported her consciousness all the way to South America to fly with what he called the *ghost bird. Although condors fly only in the daylight, using the thermals to lift to the heights, the spirit of Condor can take wing at any time, and it was in oneness that avian elemental essence that Melissa headed for the heavens.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time Melissa experienced soaring. The red-tail hawks who nest in GrandPop’s crown shared their flight with her on more than one occasion. But never before had she flown to such heights in a place of majesty and wonder.

Dreams can shape our waking reality, which in turn can shift our dreams. But which is more real, after all?

 

 

*Human beings use the name “ghost bird” to describe the elusive ivory-billed woodpecker, but Adahy says that it is meant for the condor.

Lost in the woods

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There’s a stretch of road on my way to and from the office that goes by a nature preserve. The overlighting consciousness of that forest, which some call its Deva, spreads her energy outward to encompass the whole area. Even the subdivisions nearby are filled and surrounded with long-standing trees—all of whom were once a part of her forest—and her energetic boundaries still extend through those places that echo with the memory of life before the world invaded her sanctuary.

My husband and I call this place “the zone,” because as we drive through the area we may well forget where we are. Such is the strength of presence of this forest Deva.

After work I often like to sojourn in those woods and walk along the creekside trails or wander up the bluffs, and the Deva always welcomes me as one who holds her dear. Although this preserve is small now compared to the vastness of the forest long ago, the presence of elemental consciousness and the invisible dwellers of the woodland abound in this place as purely as it ever did.

Sometimes I get lost in the woods. Not literally, of course, for I know those pathways well, but I let go of the world of man there and allow myself to step outside of time and simply be. Sometimes my consciousness drifts on the stream or soars to the treetops or sinks into the earth beneath me. When I make my way back to the car, minutes or hours may have passed without my notice, and I am renewed beyond measure in the sense of my true self.

I invite you to go to the forest and lose track of time. Become one with clouds and stones and trees. Listen to the singing water and the laughing breeze and remember who you are.

Transcendent Spring

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April and May are two of my favorite months of the year. Warmth rules the day, and the nights blanket us in coolness perfect for snuggling under covers. Honeysuckle perfume graces the senses as it wafts in through open windows, and the world feels new and fresh. Potent possibilities abound in the spring energy. The sunlight feels like liquid warmth spreading across my skin. What a wonder is this Earth on such days as these!

It’s a time of great inspiration for someone with an ear for nature’s song and an inclination to share it. So here’s a poem for the spring.

I know nothing more transcendent on Mother Earth
Than this glorious, resplendent springtime rebirth.
The wind carries freely the hum of honey bees,
And scents of sweet blossoms travel on every breeze.
Caressing my senses with the sun’s brilliant rays,
Spring dissolves all pretenses from bleak winter days
And transports my psyche to a realm of pure light,
Lifting me brightly into fantasies of flight.
Mother Earth strums her chords in my favorite song
That hums into my consciousness all the day long:
“I am the wind, the water, the sunlight, the trees;
“I am,” she sings to me, “the life in all of these.”
Her lyrics and her tune I shall forever hear
And on this fair afternoon hold them ever dear.

© 2016 L. Diana Henderson

Grandfather Poplar, the novel, is available as an e-book on Amazon.com.

Ode to Honeysuckle

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honeysuckle1Even on a rainy day, it’s easy to find beauty in nature. Sitting outside for a while under these rain-laden skies, the honeysuckle reminded me of so often awakening to their scent in the springs and summers of my childhood and adolescence. I hope you enjoy my “Ode to Honeysuckle.”

Still glistening from spring rains,
Your scent a sweet refrain
That beckons my soul to dream
Of dewdrops and sunbeams.
Your fragrance fills my senses,
Seeps past my defenses,
An echo from long ago
Of summer morning’s glow—
Asleep with open windows
In a peaceful repose
Till lingering yellow rays
Wakened me to the day.

© 2016 L. D. Henderson
GrandfatherPoplar.com
Grandfather Poplar, the novel, is available as an e-book on Amazon.com; here’s the link: http://bit.ly/GrandfatherP.

Purple Raindrops

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Ppoem

When I took this photo of the wisteria hanging in the woods, I thought they looked rather like violet raindrops. I knew that I would write a poem to accompany them at some point. I only wish it hadn’t been prompted by the occasion of the death of a musical genius and beautiful soul that I have long admired. I have been a fan of Prince since the early 1980s and will continue to treasure his brilliant music  for all my days. This one is for him and for all who loved him….

Purple Raindrops

Wisteria blossoms purple raindrops—
Those cascading ethereal blooms
Hang luxuriantly in the forest
Emanating their fragrant perfume.

On any other day they would call me
To wander in silent reverie,
But today I won’t accede to their plea;
I’ll sit here shaded by this poplar tree.

Rapt and awed, I’ll listen to your music
And ever amazing silken voice
That has transported me so many times—
Tunes that invite my heart to rejoice.

I’ll thank you for a thousand perfect rhymes,
For the songs that caused my soul to sing,
And pray you fly home to a realm sublime
To serenade the eternal spring.

© 2016 L. D. Henderson

Wild Woods of Spring

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wisteriawildCRSurrender to the savage song of the wild
Abandon the adult and become the child
From nature’s lustrous garden no more exiled
By her every flora I am beguiled.

It’s time to leave behind all grown-up complaint
With childlike liberties once more to acquaint
Each part of my soul awash in nature’s paint
Stripping the structures, releasing all restraint.

Winter’s somnolent repose has come and gone
Splendid Spring sits freshly coifed upon her throne
New adventures and creations now to spawn
Wild woods await exploration of worlds unknown.

© 2016 L. Diana Henderson

My novel, Grandfather Poplar, is available at bit.ly/GrandfatherP.
Like on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/GrandfatherPoplar.
Follow on Twitter at https://twitter.com/GrandPop333 (@GrandPop333).

Ode to Butterfly

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When I was a child, my mother went to college and majored in education. She was given an assignment to create two children’s books. One of those books was about me and my love of butterflies, which continues to this day. These amazing insects go through such a transformation in their life cycle and become the beautiful creatures that bring delight to our lives.

This spring morning our yard was filled with butterflies grazing on the Washington hawthorn trees, and I captured this photo of one of them, which in turn inspired the following ode.

Wingèd I arise from my retreat;
Into newfound freedom now I fly.
I shall drink the nectar wild and sweet
And dance beneath boundless blue of sky.

Oh, wondrous world soaked in solar light,
Let me bathe in those beams and climb so high,
For once I crawled and now am given flight
So shall I kiss the ground below good-bye.

On lilting winds to waft until twilight,
To flutter amid air’s filmy caress,
To sup upon the sunshine of delight;
With transformation all the world to bless.

Wherever I go spirits soon shall rise
And springtime glories only multiply.
So shall I navigate the silken skies,
For I am the one known as butterfly.

© 2016 L. Diana Henderson

My novel, Grandfather Poplar, is available on Amazon.com.

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Follow on Twitter at https://twitter.com/GrandPop333 (@GrandPop333).

Magenta Rays

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Magenta rays filtered through the trees
Reflect in your waters of pure peace;
Here in the woodland I swim the seas
Of earthly wonders that never cease.
Pines above supply a silken screen
For each ray that wafts into this dream;
Its solar song lighting your sweet green
In soft hues that glimmer in your stream.
Here I live in your serenity
Bathed in your soundless, soothing light;
Here I claim my true identity
In this place that beckons me to flight.
All illusion now I leave behind;
Each step into your depths the world unwinds.
Here in your embrace no more confined,
Spirit merges with my heart and mind.
And I am one with you beyond time
In this paradise, this sacred shrine,
Among clouds and trees and Earth sublime,
As light and love and grace forever shine.

© 2016 L. Diana Henderson
Grandfather Poplar, the novel, is on sale at http://bit.ly/GrandfatherP.
Follow on Twitter at twitter.com/GrandPop333.
Like us on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/GrandfatherPoplar/.