While my daughter was growing up...

My daughter is so beautiful. I know, all mother's think their daughters are beautiful but really, I'm seriously being objective here...my daughter really, truly is beautiful.

As a little girl, every where we went people commented on her beauty, her amazing head of curly black hair, her lovely olive skin, her radiant smile and her contagious laugh. She was light and funny and even tempered. Her interests were like those of most young girls. Boys, music, her pets, Girl Scouts, movies, dance and boys were all consuming.

I often wondered if she would ever have an interest in the work I do. I mean the kind of interest that would lead her to practice, for herself, the techniques that I was certain she was somehow absorbing from her Auntie Linda and I. My sister used to tell the kids to "run Light" when they needed to heal themselves from something. Shanon, my daughter, still calls it that. I call it Reiki, but it's all the same.

As kids do, Shanon would sometimes roll her eyes when I talked about my work. I was afraid she would leave all of this valuable information behind in an attempt to separate from her mother. She had no interest in taking the classes I recommended and no interest in reading the books in my little library. She'd watch and listen when I worked with her friends or a relative but not once did she ask me to teach her "how".

I needn't have worried. I should have known she would have the gift.

Here is her story...

Her infant baby girl was crying. Again, if you are a regular reader, you know the whole story of the baby's heart surgery, infected incision, and her painful and slow recovery. After many days of cleaning her wound and giving her antibiotics, the wound opened up again. Shanon could feel the wetness through the bandage, through her tiny T-shirt, through her pajamas and through her receiving blanket. She wondered how much more her little angel could take. That was the moment...the moment she decided to step up as the healer she was destined to be.

After cleaning the wound and covering it with fresh gauze and bandages, a fresh set of clothes and blanket, she took Marlie into her arms and carried her to bed. It the dark of her room she held the baby and began to "run Light". She knew they would see the doctor in the morning but this night she needed to do more than what the nurses had shown her. Cleaning and replacing the old bandages with new fresh ones twice a day wasn't enough. The antibiotics were not enough. As she sat up in her queen sized bed, her husband at work, the house still and quiet, she placed her hands over the baby's back and began to give her Light. As she worked, a vision of light caught her eye from the doorway of her bedroom. At first she was a bit scared that this would be a 'visit' from someone on the other side. As this light began to move towards her, bouncing slowly, up and down and moving in her direction, her heart began to beat a little faster. She almost laughed when she realized that it wasn't a spirit at all. It was a balloon left over from Marlie's homecoming. Still, she ran light and watched this balloon continue it's journey from the playroom, over the landing to the stairway, over the threshold of her bedroom, across the sitting area and still floating closer and closer. She thought, "If that balloon comes all the way to me, I'll know this healing worked." It continued to float to the end of her bed, drifting down the foot of the bed, and up to the side, right to her. It read, "Welcome Home Baby"

The next morning she packed up the baby's bag and drove to the surgeons office. He had asked her to bring Marlie in first thing. She told the doctor how the incision opened again and was leaking and soaking her many layers of coverings. There was a look of concern on the doctors face. He undid her blanket, her pajamas, her T-shirt and removed the bandage. Nothing was there. It was dry and healed shut. It looked perfectly normal. When she told me this part, I said, "Of course."

I am so very proud.