Emerge

Dear Heavenly Father,

The night I finished my quilt, I stepped outside. The sun was setting, winds blew, and dark clouds hung down from the sky like fingers, giving off an eerie energy that I did not like. I looked out at the mountain. After some time, I noticed a few moths fluttering around in the dusk on some tree branches. The transformative nocturnal insect known for being attracted to light. As I walked back inside, one followed me to the door before disappearing into the air.

Father, I’ve learned more about heaven in recent months than I have in my entire life. I’ve learned how to grieve what was never meant to be, how to accept failure as a win, how slowness is always on time, how intention is the place of miracles, and most importantly, I’ve learned that wisdom comes not from knowledge gained but from holding knowledge as the light of alignment, freedom, and clarity. Perhaps it was that light that the moth was attracted to.

The transformation I’ve experienced is not a transformation into something new, but something that has always been. Something buried under layers of pressure. Something hidden in shadows of doubt. Something masked by outward perceptions. My own feminine divine identity has emerged. So, what I’ve learned about heaven is who I am in relationship to what exists there.

Then, is it strange, Father, that at the very sacred moment of my transformation, the devil came into my life and pierced my heart with a sword and stole a thing most precious.

Unbeknownst to me, these prayers have not just been about my search for answers; they have been preparing me for my most proving battle. I suppose there is no transformation that is complete without its equal opposition. And there couldn’t be a more critical time in my life to need a Heavenly Mother, the feminine heart and voice, and its power. I hear Her fly on silent wings. Not a sound to be heard, but seen and felt.

I must be the mountain now; strong, and watchful, and faithful—unwavering.

That’s all for now. I will no longer be writing to you but walking with you and the hosts of heaven who follow. I leave these written prayers as a testimony and take my first steps on a path that is now mine.

Your daughter sincerely,

Emily