"Moira! Please, do not put your feet on the coffee table!" My mother scolded. "Someday you will have a glass room and I will come to your house and sit in your glass room and put my feet on your glass coffee table!” How many times did she make that promise to me? Odd, but I remember it like it was yesterday.
My mother was exceptionally tidy, a trait she passed on to me. The feet on the coffee table thing was a pet peeve of hers. Always curious, I would ask her "Why do we call it a coffee table?” Her response sticks with me still: "Because it's for serving coffee, and we don't want feet touching something that we serve coffee on! Would you put your feet on the dining room table…? Don't answer me!" She'd laugh with hands over her ears in mock horror at the thought of me walking across the table like a cat.
The older I get, the more often her words fall out of my mouth. The values she instilled in me, what some of my friends consider my clean freak ways; that which my family lovingly refer to as the family gene. I'm glad the apple did not fall far from the tree. I feel comfortable, better able to function in beautiful, orderly surroundings.
My mother was also a psychic medium; she could see and converse with the dead. A trait that I did not particularly wish to inherit. These days it may be cool to have a Mom who talks to the dead, in fact, she was ahead of her time. However, in my introverted, adolescent angst I just wanted to hide. "Your Mom talks to ghosts?" Small town minds could not comprehend. "Really?" "No, she communicates with the spirits of the departed," Seriously how could people not know the difference? I have known this since I was old enough to think. Inherit the gift I did, and yet I wanted to approach this logically, educating myself and preparing for a career less mystical, yet profoundly healing.
Eleven years ago, Mom died after a long illness; she had been unable to walk without assistance. She was in and out of her body. She had not said my name or been able to converse since the second stroke. Our house is roomy with areas easy to navigate with a walker and later a wheelchair. I don't have "coffee tables" I have large ottomans and serving trays. Soft edges, seating areas designed for comfort community, sans the formal seating that was popular when I was a child.
The night she died she appeared in spirit form in my newly built sunroom. She was radiant and transformed. She seemed to be shining, glowing and moving her legs and feet with great ease as she float-danced around the room. Smiling radiantly, she motioned to me as she sat in my favorite chair, crossing her ankles, propping her feet up on the octagonal glass coffee table. She said, "It's time for you to go to work, the opportunity will be made clear to you." Before she faded into the bright light, she revealed several other important things of a personal nature. We talked about family, Love, and her journey. Then she was gone. Her visit was life changing.
I knew in that instant what my Mother wanted me to do. I've been providing readings through Psychic Source since October 2005. Emotional-spiritual healing, holding energy for others as they consult spirit, this is my life's work. Today I smile when I recall what my mother used to say to me when I was a teenager. How did she know, 40 years before I built that room, or even thought of decorating outside of '60s bohemian, that I would have a glass room and glass coffee table? And she would indeed rest her joyful, glowing, spirit feet upon it.
My mother was a psychic of course!
- Moira x7776
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