On a solitary walk in April of 2013, The Gift began to flow into my consciousness. Thanks to Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way and the teachings of Ernest Holmes Science of Mind, I knew to listen. And to transcribe its words. Shortly thereafter, I shared what I thought was a complete poem of 140 words in seven stanzas of four lines each with encouraging classmates at the Center for Spiritual Living Palm Desert. I added a rainbow I’d photographed in Hawaii the previous month, created bookmarks and gave them as gifts.
Likely due to my receptivity immediately after I sent the manuscript of the book I’d been writing for 12 years—Black-Eyed Susan, A Love-Child Finds Her Father and Her Self—to its publisher, The Gift kept giving and growing, reaching pretty much its current form in December of 2013.
Although I had clarity “The Great Creator” had delivered “The Gift” to me, I kept asking, “What is this?” Because it sounded like poetry from my childhood and I felt no urge to make edits, I came to believe its message was one my angry 13-year-old self-opted to not hear when I angrily vowed that I didn’t need a father—Heavenly or earthly—in my life. This time, my 67-year-self listened, absorbed and, as instructed, “put me in your pocket and hold me in your heart.”
My heart kept reminding me “The Gift” wasn’t just for me. So I asked, “What am I to do with it?” The answer I kept hearing was: “Share.” And so I did, from time to time, with selected friends and in creative circles.
In the summer of 2019, after our beloved 17 year-old grandson Tyler passed from the earthly part of his soul’s journey, I set my intention to publish “The Gift.” Since seven is the number of completion and 2020 is the year of clear vision, now is the divinely appointed time and I am ready. And upholding that each of us is a unique expression of our Creator, “The Gift of Who I Am.”