23 October 2017

Gramie's Voice, One More Time

it is February 2008
       There is a craft fair today with the Woodstock Time Bank. I'd signed up for a table. I have all of my herbal salves and tinctures all boxed up to load into the car. My son is seven. I'll be loading Him, too.
       I pull back the curtain to look out the window and see what the weather is doing. It's snowing, just a little bit. I hate driving in the snow. I don't feel safe. Those few flakes start to inspire the thought, "Uh.... maybe I won't go..."
       But it's winter. The gallery is closed. Money is in less than short supply. We get by, but the electric bill is due. I'm having this dilemma, standing there staring at all of the boxes I'd packed. 'Just my jams and jellies, herbal salves and tinctures for sale, some sachets, you know. I'm checking out the window, watching the flakes float down. I have no idea how much more we expect. What if I don't sell anything? I feel paralyzed. I don't think I'm going to go.
       Then, the air around me gets very still. Something from outside, but inside, of me makes me stand up very straight. I feel Presence stand to the left and behind me, very close. The voice in my left ear is Gramie's, 
I wrote it down.



       It is a firm, loving tone of voice, not 'admonishing'. It is lovingly assertive, asserting. Unconditional love, and a feeling of confidence and strength fill my body and clear my mind. This feeling makes me stand up straight. I immediately walk to the boxes, pick one up and march it out to the car. I load the car and we go to the Woodstock Fire House for the Holiday Fair.
       I am late, but my empty assigned table is there. I hurry everything that I'd packed into the car into the firehouse. My son is already busy at a drawing station. We know a lot of the people here, so he's safe to run around. I set my table up quickly. I still don't think I'll sell anything, but I'm so into the project, now, that it doesn't matter...
*
       Well, you know what happened? Other vendors started leaving their own tables to come over and talk with me. I had fun. My son had fun. It was a great day, and it never did really snow more than those few flakes. And, I made the electric bill money... and a few more bucks to put some gas in the car.

       Until this day, this was the last time I heard my Grandmother's voice come through the veil. The other time, I'll write about soon. 

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