Embracing Venus

I was just five minutes into the meditation and deeply relaxed when I saw a bright light shining down from above. It was a short beam, and then it slowly grew in length as it descended from the sky between an opening in the clouds. I saw a huge gray sky, dotted with clouds of gray splotched white. I tried to identify where exactly it was coming from, but all I could tell was that it was coming from the highest point in the sky. Was it coming from heaven? The light was making its way slowly and directly toward me. I watched it as it stretched slowly from its origin and made its way toward me. I was sitting on a grassy knoll in a beautiful field of lush grass with tall trees surrounding the perimeter. I was all alone, but I felt peaceful. I wasn't sure if the day was turning to dusk or if the day was taking on a gray sky. I could see the light coming my way was clear and bright. I was transfixed. As the beam of light came even closer, I could see it was a beautiful blend of soft, muted yellow and bright white. It had become a thick, dense shard of light. When it reached about two feet from me, just above but directly in front of my body, it hovered. Strangely, I wasn't afraid; I was interested and intrigued. I took one more look up, and my eyes followed the beam to the end of the light. Then the light began to change shape. It was no longer a straight ray of light; it began to transform into the slender arm of a woman. As I stared at the end of the arm, I saw a hand. It was the petite, soft, white hand of a woman. The hand came closer to me, and when it was just a few inches away, the hand opened. Instinctively, I reached up and placed my hand in hers. As soon as I did, her hand responded, and gently but firmly, she wrapped her hand around mine. Her hand felt warm and comforting. Then I felt myself being pulled up from where I was sitting. I was moving upward ever so slowly as I hung onto this woman's hand. As I felt myself lifting off the earth and being pulled encouragingly up toward the sky, I felt no fear and marveled at the strength of this hand in mine. Then I realized that it felt cool, soft, and somehow familiar. I felt like a happy child. It felt wonderful, and I felt like I was going home. As we rose upward together, the body of a woman quickly began to materialize—first, another arm, then legs and a face. I was transfixed. Who was she? I stared at her until she became crystal clear. It was my mother—not the face of my mother the last time I saw her when she was sick in the hospital at just 50 years old, but this was my mother as a young woman. She was lovely, healthy, and smiling at me. I hadn't seen her in over 30 years, and there she was, floating beside me with a calm and grace that held me in awe, all the while holding my hand in hers. Here she was after a lifetime of missing her, and all I could do was stare. Here was Grace, my mother, and she had returned for me. In what felt like a natural rhythm, we continued to float up toward the sky, and she was leading me. Then she gently let go of my hand, reached around my waist, and pulled me to her. She positioned me just beside her on the left side of her body. She held me tightly, with our bodies touching. Instinctively, I wrapped my right arm around her waist and snuggled next to her. In total bliss, I remained beside her as we continued to climb into the sky. The feeling was like none other, and as I write this story, I'm all choked up. There are no words, but let me try. Do you know when someone says to you, "If I could just have 'X,' I wouldn't need anything else in life"? Or "If I can accomplish 'X,' I've done my life's work"? It felt like that—as if I had fulfilled everything I wanted from life, and nothing could top this feeling. It was a life-changing experience. Honestly, I thought I knew what happiness was, but to experience that feeling of being with my mother again was a happiness I had never known. It was completely life-changing. To be connected, joined at the hip, drifting together without a care in the world, I was at peace in my mother's arms. My mother passed away when I was just 20, and I never got over feeling deeply sad. It took me over 20 years to be able to talk about her without crying. I was inconsolable. I never got to say goodbye, nor did I know she was going to die. I was a freshman in college when she became very ill. She was in a hospital in Brighton, Massachusetts, and I visited her every weekend. I could see she was getting sicker, and I didn't want to return to school. At the time, I was attending Bridgewater State, and I chose that school so I could come home often to visit her. It was a gloomy Sunday afternoon, and I was sitting next to my mother on her hospital bed when my father came in. While my mother was napping, he told me she was getting better and to return to college.