Sunday, March 10, 2013
Ours is not to question, but to accept that everything has a purpose, a reason, and we are to "go with the flow".
About ten years ago, a poem came through me, as though I wasn't writing it. I've since learned it is called creative inspiration and it is my higher self writing through me. The poem was from the point of view of a little girl in heaven looking down and speaking to her grieving parents. At the time, I thought how strange, how different the poem was. It was not light and funny like what I normally wrote for children -- this one was very sad, but it did go in my first book. It would be five years before I found out the purpose of the poem.
I was hired to do a school visit several states away. Seven schools would be brought by bus to a central school where I was to do five presentations per day for three days. It was a wonderful time -- the teachers and children were really into the presentations, even reciting the poetry right along with me.
About a week later, after I returned home, I received a phone call from the librarian at the central school. She said one of the second graders had been killed in a car crash. Her mother and little brother were still in the hospital.
She said after the school visit, the little girl read that poem to anyone who would listen, saying that the little girl in the poem was her -- she was going to be the angel. I was speechless. I thanked the librarian and asked if I could have their address to send a card to the family.
A week later, I got another phone call from the librarian. She had attended the service at the funeral home for the little girl and the whole town had come to show their support. She wanted me to know that as each visitor arrived, they were given a pink sheet of paper with the poem and the story the little girl had told everyone -- that she was the little girl in the poem.
The little girl's parents called a couple of days later to ask my permission to have the poem etched beside an angel on their daughter's gravestone.
Letter From Heaven
Mommy, Daddy, how I miss you
and I know you're missing me.
There are windows here in Heaven.
Every day I look and see
my toys all in the toy box
and my dolls up on the shelf.
I can't pull them in my wagon now
nor hold them to myself.
My little rocker's empty.
I know your arms feel empty, too.
I can see the sadness in your face,
Mommy, Daddy, I love you.
My music box is silent
but I don't have to hear it play.
Mommy, Daddy, it's not needed now.
Angels here sing every day.
Please don't worry that I'm lonely.
There are children everywhere.
We are all His little angels
and there's so much love up here.
Mommy, Daddy please don't cry for me.
Heaven's such a lovely place!
God says you did your very best
and your love shows in my face.
Mommy, Daddy when you need me
just look up and say a prayer.
I will see you through the windows
and I'll hear your voice up here.
Posted by CJ Parrish Kempf Heck at 8:09 AM