Kim Michelle Hewitt
Fear not my Child…
Lemon cake was Patunia’s favourite and Proteas certainly always made her smile. The way that each individual part of the flower is formed to perfection and how it fits in and yet seems too advanced for this world somehow.
She greeted her friend with glee. Lia was handing out small gifts to all her friends, all of which chatted and giggled amongst themselves. A delightful air of enthusiasm filled the sunny back porch where snacks and enjoyment continued to flow.
In this celebration time there had been much to say and on leaving Patunia felt a warm happiness and overall general excitement for the week ahead. She glanced down at the little wooden umbrella; Lia had given her, as her personal gift. She remembered the words her friend had used, “Because you can weather every storm”. This was so applicable to Patunia’s life, which in fact had felt like many storms amongst many happy times.
Patutia day dreamed back over a specific period in her life where storms were all she really had encountered. Thinking back to times she would sit on the beach watching the waves roll in and out absorbed by the magnitude and expansion of water, by the greatness that was presented before her, ever reminding her, that all is really well, always. Her mind drifted to elightened times when all her dreams came true and smiled at how this too is possible with the right dose of imagination, a scoop of intention, a pinch of attention, and of course, a measure of faith. The little wooden umbrella was in fact triggering many a thought for Patunia and she smiled as she lay on the green freshly cut grass looking up at the sky through the branches of palm trees.
In the days that followed she found herself being interviewed by a large organisation, of which she was delighted. She found that love in all forms came knocking and she found that remaining grateful was a key to unlock any potential obstacle and conquer it.
Finding the peace in aloneness had been a great challenge at this time for most, yet Patunia was no stranger to aloneness and isolation. It seemed to always take her back in memory to happier times. Playing ball on the crooked pathway leading to the squeaky garden gate at her Grandma’s house, the smell of flapjacks coming from the kitchen and boiled sugar sweets kept high up out of reach in the wooden safe cupboard. She would think of Everleen and Jane, chatting together, in their own language, on their grass mats, smoking long beaded pipes in the afternoon sunshine. To eating sweet and sour grapes from the grape vine, climbing the mulberry tree escaping to her wooden hide away, where dolls and teddies had kept her company. Of her ‘stage’, which in fact was the old cement slab in the back garden amongst the lanky pawpaw trees. To all her make believe audience, who cheered and clapped after each of her performances. Her thoughts would amble to fresh fruit salad, the smell of garden roses, to the safety of her Grandma’s story time and the harmonious sound of garden birds. Drifting through these childhood memories and adventures, Patunia would often stop and ask herself the questions. “What had covered me through it all?” “What had been my overall protection?” “What had pushed me to venture, what had encouraged me to leap?” Now, as she looked at the little wooden umbrella, she knew the answer.
Lemon cake was Patunia’s favourite and Proteas certainly always made her smile. The way that each individual part of the flower is formed to perfection and how it fits in and yet seems too advanced for this world somehow.
She greeted her friend with glee. Lia was handing out small gifts to all her friends, all of which chatted and giggled amongst themselves. A delightful air of enthusiasm filled the sunny back porch where snacks and enjoyment continued to flow.
In this celebration time there had been much to say and on leaving Patunia felt a warm happiness and overall general excitement for the week ahead. She glanced down at the little wooden umbrella; Lia had given her, as her personal gift. She remembered the words her friend had used, “Because you can weather every storm”. This was so applicable to Patunia’s life, which in fact had felt like many storms amongst many happy times.
Patutia day dreamed back over a specific period in her life where storms were all she really had encountered. Thinking back to times she would sit on the beach watching the waves roll in and out absorbed by the magnitude and expansion of water, by the greatness that was presented before her, ever reminding her, that all is really well, always. Her mind drifted to elightened times when all her dreams came true and smiled at how this too is possible with the right dose of imagination, a scoop of intention, a pinch of attention, and of course, a measure of faith. The little wooden umbrella was in fact triggering many a thought for Patunia and she smiled as she lay on the green freshly cut grass looking up at the sky through the branches of palm trees.
In the days that followed she found herself being interviewed by a large organisation, of which she was delighted. She found that love in all forms came knocking and she found that remaining grateful was a key to unlock any potential obstacle and conquer it.
Finding the peace in aloneness had been a great challenge at this time for most, yet Patunia was no stranger to aloneness and isolation. It seemed to always take her back in memory to happier times. Playing ball on the crooked pathway leading to the squeaky garden gate at her Grandma’s house, the smell of flapjacks coming from the kitchen and boiled sugar sweets kept high up out of reach in the wooden safe cupboard. She would think of Everleen and Jane, chatting together, in their own language, on their grass mats, smoking long beaded pipes in the afternoon sunshine. To eating sweet and sour grapes from the grape vine, climbing the mulberry tree escaping to her wooden hide away, where dolls and teddies had kept her company. Of her ‘stage’, which in fact was the old cement slab in the back garden amongst the lanky pawpaw trees. To all her make believe audience, who cheered and clapped after each of her performances. Her thoughts would amble to fresh fruit salad, the smell of garden roses, to the safety of her Grandma’s story time and the harmonious sound of garden birds. Drifting through these childhood memories and adventures, Patunia would often stop and ask herself the questions. “What had covered me through it all?” “What had been my overall protection?” “What had pushed me to venture, what had encouraged me to leap?” Now, as she looked at the little wooden umbrella, she knew the answer.
It was in fact Grace, Grace that had been there all along. Grace that had held her hand when there was no-one else, Grace that had her covered even when she did not think so and Grace that had pulled her through each trying situation. The Grace of all that is, the Grace of all that was and all that ever will be. That Grace that held her close and that Grace that kept her going. That Grace that cheered in celebration with each small step, ever gently forcing her to try and try again, to expand, experience, to unfold, to grow.
Lia’s gift was much more than just the little wooden umbrella. She had given Patunia the graceful opportunity of adventure into a more conscious approach to past experiences, with more understanding in the overall umbrella of life. Grace, the umbrella of her life, through every storm through every cloud, through every rainbow and every sunshine. Ever held, ever being encouraged, ever supported, ever loved. As it is, as it was and as it is to come.
Written with Thanks to my dear friend TvR
Kim Michelle Hewitt
Lia’s gift was much more than just the little wooden umbrella. She had given Patunia the graceful opportunity of adventure into a more conscious approach to past experiences, with more understanding in the overall umbrella of life. Grace, the umbrella of her life, through every storm through every cloud, through every rainbow and every sunshine. Ever held, ever being encouraged, ever supported, ever loved. As it is, as it was and as it is to come.
Written with Thanks to my dear friend TvR
Kim Michelle Hewitt
Perspective…
“What a beautiful kitten” I said to my daughter, “but we really can’t take in another cat. We already have two and with our family going separate ways in the future, how will another cat fit in?”
This kitten brought not only joy and understanding but guidance with much bigger lessons of courage that I could ever imagine.
It was a Monday like any other, my business prospects were slim, I was really so tired of trying, looking for clients, hoping and wishing, and in my heart of hearts, I felt the bitter odd idea of death. ‘What was the point’, I said to myself. I had left a corporate world with a large income, to forge ahead on what I believed was my life path. Journeying ultimately, to a place of peace and some understanding, in what seemed to be a mixed up and unconscious mind of people. Yet, here I was feeling as low as anything I could imagine and unable to even earn a small amount of money, to pay the bills.
I started the Monday like any other, moving about the usual chores and mundane tasks. Luna ran in and rubbed herself up against my leg, her early morning ‘hello’ ‘I am still here’ greeting. I must have ignored her to some degree, being caught up in my mind with thoughts racing backwards and forwards, feeling totally overwhelmed.
“What a beautiful kitten” I said to my daughter, “but we really can’t take in another cat. We already have two and with our family going separate ways in the future, how will another cat fit in?”
This kitten brought not only joy and understanding but guidance with much bigger lessons of courage that I could ever imagine.
It was a Monday like any other, my business prospects were slim, I was really so tired of trying, looking for clients, hoping and wishing, and in my heart of hearts, I felt the bitter odd idea of death. ‘What was the point’, I said to myself. I had left a corporate world with a large income, to forge ahead on what I believed was my life path. Journeying ultimately, to a place of peace and some understanding, in what seemed to be a mixed up and unconscious mind of people. Yet, here I was feeling as low as anything I could imagine and unable to even earn a small amount of money, to pay the bills.
I started the Monday like any other, moving about the usual chores and mundane tasks. Luna ran in and rubbed herself up against my leg, her early morning ‘hello’ ‘I am still here’ greeting. I must have ignored her to some degree, being caught up in my mind with thoughts racing backwards and forwards, feeling totally overwhelmed.
Then I heard it, a shrill that filled the morning air. At first I had no idea what it was, but as I ran out of our front gate and into the street, the neighbour was coming towards me, “the cat’s leg” she cried! Her voice piercing my soul.
I looked across at their house. Panic and sadness rose in my chest. Luna was in fact hanging from the grey steal barred fence spike. She was writhing and squirming in absolute agony and her eyes were wide with fear. I felt the blood drain from my face. The spike had pierced through her groin area and out through her small body. It was in those moments that I made a decision between life or death, a decision between her life or death, and my life or death.
As I made the choice of life, I looked to the heavens screaming for help. It was a strange feeling that came over me, almost as if encased in a bubble of protection. I tried once, then a second time managing to lift the kitten off of the barbed spike. I felt the life slowly drifting from her.
A month came and went. She was still in lockdown at the vet. The kindest place she could be in her condition, all the while healing and recovering. Due to her skin being weak and the position of her wound, healing had to occur from the empty cavity, the nothingness. It had to occur from the inside, out.
I looked across at their house. Panic and sadness rose in my chest. Luna was in fact hanging from the grey steal barred fence spike. She was writhing and squirming in absolute agony and her eyes were wide with fear. I felt the blood drain from my face. The spike had pierced through her groin area and out through her small body. It was in those moments that I made a decision between life or death, a decision between her life or death, and my life or death.
As I made the choice of life, I looked to the heavens screaming for help. It was a strange feeling that came over me, almost as if encased in a bubble of protection. I tried once, then a second time managing to lift the kitten off of the barbed spike. I felt the life slowly drifting from her.
A month came and went. She was still in lockdown at the vet. The kindest place she could be in her condition, all the while healing and recovering. Due to her skin being weak and the position of her wound, healing had to occur from the empty cavity, the nothingness. It had to occur from the inside, out.
As I watched this miracle, at the way nature was bringing back new from where there seemed to be emptiness. I felt the same conscious happenings within me. I felt life and true life begin to grow deep within my being. Each day as I watched this miraculous healing, I too felt the change, the realization that new life can spring from devastation, that new opportunities can arise from a seemingly traumatic occurrence, and that hope and faith remain eternal everlasting necessities.
Over the 8 month healing process, love and attention were paramount in Luna’s life. Today, I watch in awe and amazement at how she jumps, climbs and plays with ease, this from a kitten expected never to walk again, never to climb and certainly never to jump. My heart always does an extra leap of excitement when I come home and see her waiting for me. Not only did she give me hope, she taught me trust and above all courage. Sometimes not to just leap without looking deeper for more understanding, sometimes to take that extra leap of faith in spite of the fear. In our world where feeling overwhelmed may tear us down, making us feel small, remembering that we are part of, and one with, the greater consciousness that forms mountains, seas, organizes worlds and controls galaxies. We are those beings that have conscious attachment to all that is, we are not limited. In essence we are awareness and choice and we can choose life and life abundant.
As our world around us seems to be falling apart, we can take a new perspective. Seeing it as a breakthrough to new life, newness, a more conscious way forward, where we are asked to leave behind that which no longer serves our soul, that which no longer serves our greater good and that which no longer serves mankind. In fact, we are asked to ‘become’ the beings we were always meant to be, as the new unfolds, starting from the inside out.
Over the 8 month healing process, love and attention were paramount in Luna’s life. Today, I watch in awe and amazement at how she jumps, climbs and plays with ease, this from a kitten expected never to walk again, never to climb and certainly never to jump. My heart always does an extra leap of excitement when I come home and see her waiting for me. Not only did she give me hope, she taught me trust and above all courage. Sometimes not to just leap without looking deeper for more understanding, sometimes to take that extra leap of faith in spite of the fear. In our world where feeling overwhelmed may tear us down, making us feel small, remembering that we are part of, and one with, the greater consciousness that forms mountains, seas, organizes worlds and controls galaxies. We are those beings that have conscious attachment to all that is, we are not limited. In essence we are awareness and choice and we can choose life and life abundant.
As our world around us seems to be falling apart, we can take a new perspective. Seeing it as a breakthrough to new life, newness, a more conscious way forward, where we are asked to leave behind that which no longer serves our soul, that which no longer serves our greater good and that which no longer serves mankind. In fact, we are asked to ‘become’ the beings we were always meant to be, as the new unfolds, starting from the inside out.
