Meditation holds many surprises for me.
I’ve discussed these surprises with spiritual teachers over the years. Each one, in his or her own manner and example, reminds me of the importance, protection and power of prayer. I ask for help from the Source that is acting in my highest interest. To me, that is God and God’s many, many helpers.
I have had a series of experiences in which I envisioned the presence of angels delivering virtues. They would each leave a gift that supported the message they had been asked to deliver. For example, one angel came into my ‘imagination’ bearing the “Creativity” banner. She talked with me about writing, gently reminding me that it was important that I share my life with others. Before she left, she gave me a miniature, gold pen with three indecipherable engraved letters. I expected they would be my initials. When I looked more closely, I saw G-O-D.
Each session would typically leave me with much to contemplate. After ‘creativity”, I neglected my meditation for a long stretch of time.
When I next sat, my “home spot” was taking time to transform from darkness to its usual glory. I waited longer than usual. Unsure of how long to stay, I felt compelled to pour love on the neglected place. Suddenly I noticed movement out beyond the rock wall. Someone was approaching, but not in the way the angels usually appeared. The figure wore a dark robe or blanket. It was hooded. Fear gripped me. I reassured myself that I could simply come out of my meditation if this proved too scary. The figure was now closer, walking unhurriedly. My heart was still pounding, but the gentleness assured me that I was safe. Curiosity replaced fear.
The man stopped a few yards from me. He smiled with indescribably loving eyes from inside the hood. Who was this person? He pushed back the hood. I felt a sudden blast of energy. His presence overwhelmed me. My heart raced with sudden recognition. Those eyes could only belong to one person. Jesus.
Love emanated from this figure and transformed my breathing. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the beauty of his face. Then I remembered my nakedness. Shame overwhelmed me. I tried covering myself, “Please forgive my nakedness. I swim to get here. Usually it’s angels…”
With the Angels I loved my nakedness. With Jesus, I felt dirty and unworthy. I glanced down and noticed I had brown blotches all over my body. “Oh, my gawd, I’m filthy!” I tried rubbing a mark from my arm, but it would not disappear. I was dumbstruck.
Jesus pulled his hands from the inside of his abundant sleeves. He held a sponge in one hand, “That’s why I’m here,” he said and came towards me with a gesture of wanting to sponge the splotch from my arm.
“Why you, Jesus? Why are you here this time?”
“Why not me? he answered.
“I thought you’d only visit holy people,” I shrunk back.
“The last shall be first and the first shall be last. Come here and let me cleanse these stains.” He gently took my arm, exhaled on the sponge and began to wipe the smears off my body.
“Welcome home. We’ve been waiting for you.” he said as he continued to sponge me.
“Who’s “we”?” I asked.
“The whole corporation. The corporation of angels. We’re all waiting for you so we can help you with this writing. It’s time to write,” he explained.
“Is that what I am to do? Really?”
“Write about this event. From there, you’ll know what you are to do. You’ll know then – clearly. You have all the support you need. You have a help mate who will make certain this is done. He loves you very deeply. Although he does not express himself the way you do, he does love you. And he knows you love him.”
Jesus breathed on the sponge again and wiped beneath my shoulder blade. “There,” he said, “now I will go.” He paused, “But first, you like receiving these little gifts that the angels leave you, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do”, I admitted.
“Good. Here’s the gift for today,” and he handed me two entwined golden rings. “You don’t have to search for their meaning, it will come. You are to display them in an obvious place to remind yourself of your covenant with God. The covenant is your commitment to do this writing, your promise to write.”
“Like the little, gold pen?” I asked. I loved to write, but doubt smothered any flicker of courage, paralyzed my creative longings, threatened to expose me to ridicule.
Something flashed. Jesus saw that I found a missed spot. He grinned and said, “You can keep the sponge.” “Good,” I said, “I’ll need it. There’s a spot behind my knee,”
He tossed the sponge to me. I caught it, breathed on it and began wiping the spot. It was not disappearing. I tried again, but to no avail.
“Need some help?” Jesus took the sponge from me, breathed on it and the smudge disappeared. “God is God and not we ourselves.”
After a graceful nod that did not quite hide his smile, he pulled up his hood and strolled off towards the horizon.
The rings, a covenant, a sponge, a promise, a cleansing, a confirmation of support, and clear direction. Did I need anything else to get on with the job?