Ask for a Sign

The other day, I felt a message coming in. I don’t know how to describe the feeling, other than a warmth and an invitation from somewhere inside of me. Perhaps that place is my Heart’s Cave, a place inside of me where I meet with my Soul, and slip into the Ocean of Possibilities, the Ocean of Creation. Jesus meets me there. We often sit by a bonfire on the shore, just hanging out.

On this particular day, I had been thinking about Isaiah 7, where God, through Isaiah, tells King Ahaz of Jerusalem to ask for a sign. Ahaz refuses. After all, the Ten Commandments said that he should not “test the Lord“. But God wanted to give Ahaz a sign, proof of Presence, to comfort and encourage him. If you’d like more info on that, listen to my Dec. 22/19 sermon; here’s the YouTube link.

I was needing encouragement and comfort too. There had been a couple of deaths in my family. Plus, I’m still, on some level, recovering from August’s surgery. It was a busy week. I was tired.

So when I felt the nudge to look for a sign, first I turned to my little For Today devotional. The Dec. 17 reading said, “We were not now nor ever could be like normal eaters. that was the beginning of freedom.” When I’m tired or sad, I want to eat. But I’d already eaten a very good breakfast. I wasn’t hungry. Something shifts when we finally accept that we are not normal eaters. It is a new beginning. No need to fight what is. To be, in this new normal, is freedom.

Next, I opened to Dec. 17 in Celtic Daily Prayer (Aidan readings). It told me a story about a vase that survived a fire. Before the fire, peple said, “What a pretty vase.” After the fire, they said, “What pretty flowers!” It’s not about me, the vase. It’s about what my life contains, and how I draw attention to God’s creation. Here I am at 62. My body still works perfectly well, but it isn’t as lovely as it once was. Still, it holds and highlights a beauty beyond my own. It has been through the fire of “life”. I need to accept my new normal, and love it, even if it means getting tired more easily than I used to.

Finally I drew a card from The Heart of Faerie Oracle. Queen of the Night. The Queen of the Night embodies longing, and I had been feeling the longing to write again, to blog, to say things that don’t fit into a sermon or a learning disability assessment report. Don’t ignore that longing, the Queen of Night was saying. Go ahead and write. It may not be good writing, or well received, but follow the longing and just do it.

The Queen of the Night also says to draw another card, to make sense of where the longing is taking me. I drew the Queen of Shadows. Writing here, writing what I need to write at this point in my life, means I can’t just look at the sunny side. There are neglected parts of me that need dusted off and brought into the light.

And so, here I am, blogging once again, taking the risk, committing. What was old is new again.

Deep Dark before the Light

Winter Solstice 2019 — the deep dark (here in Canada) before the return of the light. As I write this morning, the sky is just beginning to brighten. All is quiet, unless you count the hum of household systems. Peace and coffee.

2019 has been a transformation year for me. Transformation isn’t easy, and it doesn’t happen overnight. Seven months of Bright Line Eating to reach my right-sized body. Six months now of maintaining. Two years since deciding to have genetic testing for breast cancer risk. A year and a half since learning I’m BRCA2+. Two preventive surgeries in 2019. Four months of slow recovery from the second one.

Seven years since I finally accepted that I was called to ministry with the United Church of Canada. Two years of study with United Theological College, graduating just as I was turning 60. Then in May 2019, I was ordained — Rev Alice Finnamore. I saw my last two psychology clients in October. Officially I hang up that professional designation on Dec 31, and continue in ministry with Prince William Pastoral Charge, where I have been since 2016.

Transformation does not happen overnight. This morning I received an email about global transformation. Aluna Joy reminds me of how we dreaded Dec 21, 2012, seven years ago, as if our entire existence would shift when the clock ticked past midnight.

We woke up the next morning and everything looked the same. But transformation does NOT happen overnight. We expected either mass destruction or instant utopia, but the sun simply rose as usual. Aluna Joy wrote today about global detox and global renewal — slow transformation on a different level than my own 2019 transformation.

I am still changing. As I wrote yesterday, I can’t be or do just one thing at a time. My soul is multi-faceted. The Light comes through this prism of Alice in distinct and various ways. I’m excited about tomorrow. The days will get longer here, bit by bit. Spring returns. Rejoice this Winter Solstice, and notice how you too are transforming.

This is NOT my first blog post

Dream Bringer’s Studio has been around for a long time, even before I started blogging in 2010. I was a professional and business owner, but being Gemini, I was never one to do just one thing at a time. I was also a writer, workshop leader, and dream teacher.

I birthed Dream Bringer’s Studio to house all my other interests, but my professional colleagues were confused by my multiplicity. So was an insurance company that paid for my professional services. To clear the air and settle the muddy waters, I took down my website, stopped blogging, and began the search in earnest for a life that would allow me more freedom. It took a while.

2019 has been my year of transformation. I expect I will be writing about that. I’ve saved all my old blog posts. They will likely show up in here too from time to time.

But for now, imagine me in my kitchen years ago, wondering what I would call my new endeavour. “Dream Bringer” was a name gifted on me by Robert Moss, who trained me in dreaming well. He saw me as one who could manifest a dream into waking reality. So there I was, in my kitchen, sweeping and thinking. Music was playing, and my heart was light with wonderment.

It felt like a dance, and the words “Dream Bringer’s Studio” popped into my head—a place to dance and create, both with words and with the hearts of the people I met. And so, Dream Bringer’s Studio was born, right there, with the dancing broom.