I HAD TO TURN IN MY SON

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son2

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Our teen son got in with a

crowd of boys who were

hiding from the police

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We told him he was to stop seeing them, but agreed with him that we should get to know them for ourselves.  Shortly after I had met with them enough to become convinced that our son had been right in pleading their innocence,  I was busy in the living room picking up and singing and glancing out at the strange horse on our lawn, when i had an inner urge to lie down and relax.

The lessons I had learned and the help I had received by following instructions from that source were — and are — sacred to me.  So I lay down, took a couple of yogic breaths to silence myself, and was immediately told to tell the authorities where the boys were hiding!!!

Having no choice, I took myself to the judge in our town.  I told him that I knew where Freddie and the boys were, whereupon he started a tirade that began, “Just wait until I get my hands on them, ” and ended with, “And besides all that, they’ve impregnated three girls just this year.”

When it was my turn I asked him to please visit the house that Freddie’s mom had rented for them before taking any action, and he agreed.  We drove over together.  He went through the entire house, talked to the boys together and individually, and stared at their poor makeshift altar,  Then he called the Chief of Police and asked him to come have coffee with us at the Holiday Inn.

After pleasantries at the Inn, he relayed to the Chief what he had learned and told him to leave the boys alone and to ignore any complaints about them.

I am very grateful for that Kriya-born silence that allows the still small silent voice to be heard.

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Peace.

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A KNOWING

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bread

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The loaves of bread were lined up on the floor against the wall,

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… according to the memory of an old lady, a family friend.  When my grandmother, (my paternal grandmother), almost nine months pregnant, was asked why she was baking so much bread, she said she wouldn’t survive this, her eighth delivery, and the bread was for her wake.

She did die very soon after finishing her baking and the bread was, indeed, eaten at her wake.

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GIFT OF BLOOD 11

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Word got around that my Grandmother,

my maternal grandmother,

who was mostly Sioux,

had a gift for healing and the ill

were often brought to her.

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(It was also said that she seemed to have “second sight,” in that she would drop comments like, “There’s Uncle Joe, sitting on his stump,” (Uncle Joe having passed over).

Once a little boy was brought to her because of a nosebleed that couldn’t be stopped. She asked the father to go to the wood pile, choose a chip of wood, memorize exactly where and how it was placed, then bring it to her. When it was fetched she put some of the boy’s blood on it and told the man to return it exactly as it had been. And when he replaced the chip, the bleeding stopped.

I don’t know why she asked for the chip routine. I have read that sometimes Yogis, for instance, will demand that some meaningless task be performed in order to take attention from their own part in the healing — to sort of point up, in this way, the fact that he, the “healer,” isn’t the healer.

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