I am here. I am here. I am here.
I know who I am in truth.
I know what I am in truth.
I know how I serve in truth.
Word, I am Word.
I am now 40. I’m not sure what to think about it, really. I don’t feel like I’ve been alive for 40 years. I’m not married, don’t have kids, don’t own a house or car. I really have nothing much to physically show for 40 years on this earth, so it’s difficult to emotionally align with the age.
My life so far has been a constant search for love and home. A search I thought had finally ended last year with my engagement to a beautiful soul. Life, however, had other plans. My fiancé was the first to notice. A light. Light and only light. As light flooded my eyes and took residence, I came face to face with the divine staring back through a crack in the door. The All Seeing Eye gave me new sight, and I left.
This past year has been filled with so much hope and heartbreak. I helplessly watched my patients die from COVID-19. I moved into my fiancé’s apartment, then watched him throw my belongings full force against his apartment door as I packed to leave. I struggled with depression, unable to wake in time for my work shifts. I still have to take Uber most days because my body wont’t budge until the very last minute. Yet when I arrive at work, something shifts. Face to face with another soul seeking care and comfort, I notice a light shining within me. This light began to grow brighter as I grappled with old notions of love and life. With each passing month of 2020, life dealt heavy blows to my psyche, forcing me to abandon long held beliefs and desires I had built my life upon. It is why I felt the need to go into silence. I was no longer who I was before.
With the dawning of a new year, joy slowly began to enter my heart. The belief that life might go back to normal filled my mind. Then, as New Year’s Eve welcomed me, so did a COVID. Waking from a deep sleep, I realized that I had most of the signs and symptoms of the virus, including a heart rate in the 130s and an oxygenation that dropped down to the upper 80s. Tears rolled down my cheeks as my mind pieced together the clues, but they soon stopped. There was no one to take care of me except me. Something within told me not to fight. Don’t make COVID the enemy. Instead, welcome it as a part of me. So, I did. “Welcome, my dear. You are safe. There are other deadly viruses and bacteria that are housed here. I ask that you peacefully coexist with them. If you say yes, this may be your home.” Having already slept for two days straight with chills and sweats, I noticed that my symptoms soon began to lighten after this offering of sanctuary. That does not mean COVID was done with her work. She had at least one gift in store.
With the new year came a return of old desires for love. And with these desires came confusion and tears. Heart ache, half truths, mental games, and jealousy. With each negative emotion that filled my body, I began to sense more physical pain, which grew at my root chakra as an abscess. And as I confronted my desires and the intentions of others, demanding truth, the pain became debilitating.
As I severed emotional ties with the two men I desired most, my heart burned so grievously that concerned colleagues asked me to take an EKG, which I declined. Within 24 hours, I couldn’t move from my bed, and the cries for help that went to the men I desired elicited no response. With the help of Siri, I managed to call an ambulance. The second time in my life to be in one. At hospital, nurses and doctors soon realized that they not only needed to treat my body, but my wounded heart.
After my hospitalization, I still was not ready to let go of my search for love as I historically understood love. On my birthday, a third man stepped in. He enjoyed that we had so much to talk about, but that did not stop him from rejecting my wounded imperfection. Instead of loving me on my birthday, he invited over someone else to love. Someone he stated was perfection.
My heart stopped. No thoughts could touch the pain. Only silence. I did not lash out with words because there were none. Only the sound of breath moving in and out. And as each breath came and went, there was an expanding calm. As I waded into it, I knew what I had to do.
Transmuting the pain as best I could, I waited for them to leave and began to pray. My seeking needed to be elevated in vibration, so I turned inward to my higher self and gave myself over to the divine light. I laid my love and body and self upon the alter to be reclaimed and made new by my God self, whom I call Lawrence. That is why this is The Gospel of Lawrence.
