A few mornings ago, on our way to school, our 5 y/o tells me that she had a bad dream during the night. I asked her to share it.
“I was taken by a big skinny black man and he was going to kill me. He was yelling horrible ugly words at me. I was scared cause I knew he really wanted me dead. I am not allowed to repeat those bad words.”
I reassured her that it was a nightmare and that no one would ever hurt her.
“Mama, it felt so real!”
I held onto the stirring wheel holding back tears. This was no nightmare. This was a memory that has been locked into her cellular memories.
Kali’s biological dad wanted to kill her when she was three months old. Her depiction of him was exact. She’s technically my granddaughter. Her biological dad hurt my daughter while trying to strangle her in a public place and she was able to come undone. The paramedics were called and he took Kali and left the scene. She was sent to the hospital. He disappeared with Kali for over 24 hours.
My daughter, whom I adopted when she was 9 y/o from Romania, called me from Florida to tell me he had her and she was scared he would kill her. Luckily she had angels protecting her. He was drunk and loaded up on drugs when he walked into the police station many hours later and asked them to take Kali away from him before he would kill her. He was arrested then and the rest is a matter of divine intervention. My husband (then he was my fiance) and I rushed to Florida from North Carolina and picked them both. I was also blessed that my in-laws took care of the situation until we got there.
My daughter is mentally ill and mentally disabled and unstable. She cannot raise a child. In the midst of her move we realized she was also hurting Kali. The Department of Social Services got involved and after two months of investigation we were able to get Kali into our homes. The horrific details of what Kali endured in the first five months of her life are inconceivable.
She was a scared little baby. She wouldn’t sleep. She was shell shocked (and still is with loud noises). She had been shaken so much we had to get her tested. He had HIV and we had her tested several times just to make sure we didn’t get her sick if we got a cold. We needed to be sure of how to protect her from anything else. Most of all we had to ensure her little soul that she was safe and loved.
Kali is unaware of her history. My daughter lost her rights a year later and we began the adoption process. We, my husband and I, are her parents. We are her safety net. Kali has never once asked why we are white and she’s black. She’s never wondered why I have so many other kids. She doesn’t ask why her baby brother didn’t have a mommy who wanted him when we picked him up a year ago from Florida.
On this particular early morning while she shared her dream I white-knuckled the stirring wheel and began to cry. I couldn’t help it. The human in me felt her pain and fear. She said, “Mama, it’s okay, it was just a bad dream like you said.”
“Kali Bug, daddy and I will make sure this never happens to you.”
“I know. You love me. I also know he doesn’t love himself. I don’t know who the man was but he definitely doesn’t like himself at all. I hope he can get help. He was so scary!”
She went silent in the backseat. Her baby brother, 2 y/o, interrupted the moment with the most genuine words, “Sissy, I woovveeee you. You my sissy.”
The awakened child doesn’t need much to show up. They are able to verbalize emotions with ease because they feel a sense of freedom in sharing. They aren’t here to merely exist. They are here to raise the vibration of this planet. They have come in with clarity. I am no expert on these highly-conscious children coming into our world. But, I am aware of their quick release of traumas stored in their cellular memories.
Kali has on many occasions told her daddy that she liked it better when she was the daddy and he was the kid. She has recounted many memories from other times and places. Their bond is extraordinary. And this is was makes her incredibly wise beyond her years. We encourage her to voice out her dreams and whatever else comes up.
I am a student of both of my grandchildren who are in our care. I am privileged to be entrusted to raise them in the most conscious manner. My husband and I have taken this job as the most important one we will ever have. I am blessed and continue to just show up to whatever they need to teach me daily. And one thing I have learned through all of these children who have passed through my home is that love is the thread that truly ties us together. Whether they are mentally ill or they are struggling with their own demons, love is what bonds us to each other and the rest of the world. Love, patience, acceptance, and acknowledgment is what they need to continue opening up to a world that needs them. They are the shape shifters and warriors of light that are transforming our world.