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Stand Tall in Your Light

Be brave. Stand tall in your light. Pull yourself toward the sun and blossom like a yellow flower in a field of white flowers.

Stand Tall in Your Light

Everyone sends out and receives energy. Choose to find what lights you up and let it shine.

It takes effort to recognize your talent. In addition, you may need to overcome some realities of life.

  • Deep hurts from childhood
  • Understanding yourself
  • Physical limitations
  • Energy blockages

You can follow many paths to help you stand tall in your light. Some people try traditional routes. However, they may also find non-traditional ways for deep healing more successful. For example, I successfully used acupuncture and reiki to overcome physical limitations. Western medicine is excellent for responding to emergencies and some diseases. Yet, only reiki could soothe the pain of my husband’s cancer until the experienced hand of a surgeon removed the tumor.

Deep Hurts from Childhood

I have experienced healing by seeking traditional counseling. However, it was interesting how often I heard the suggestion of journaling to open my internal channel to find the root cause of mental anguish.

Listening to my intuition, the knowing I felt in my body, brought me to personal coaches, astrologers, the System of Reiki, writing retreats, shamanic healers, and many more.

The most important thought here is to keep trying until you find the necessary process to heal the deep scars. Perhaps it is as simple as knowing how to search for your helpers. Download my free guide to get you started.

Understand Yourself

Another realization for me is to take it slow. My default is to juggle multiple projects at one time. So I pulled back my days volunteering from two days to one. Soaring gas prices gave me another reason to reconsider the necessity for multiple trips into town. And I’m following suit on this blog, taking three times as long to finish it.

This understanding of myself has been a deeply personal process. Yet, we all need to understand ourselves better. My article about using ‘tried and true’ methods includes links to online personality tests that cracked open the window into my way of being. But recently, I found a unique questionnaire that helps me understand my conative self (how I do things). It’s from Kolbe Corp. When you know how you get things done, it’s much easier to set and accomplish goals in your work and personal life.

Physical Limitations

There are many ways we may feel physically limited. For example, perhaps you live in the desert Southwest but long to live near a beach. Can you change your location? Perhaps not. But you can make small changes that bring you closer to the beach you dream of through posters of a beach. By meditating on this scene, your energy can change, opening up an opportunity to move nearer to the beach.

Although we may feel physically challenged by our bodies, our minds are unfettered, free to imagine a world of limitless possibility. Moreover, it costs nothing and is always available.

Energy Blockages

Energy is in everything. It is limitless, at least to our capacity to understand.

The energy in a hug from a loved one is easy to feel. Notice changes in your body when you receive a hug. Since this feeling doesn’t have a linear component, it is possible to feel the energy in a memory. Try it right now. Close your eyes and imagine the person to whom you feel closest. Are you experiencing their loving care in this memory?

Making real change is a slow process. Many layers of hurt may absorb the earth’s and sky’s beautiful energy. Find a practice that resonates with you; walking barefoot on the earth, performing gentle yoga stretches, or simply taking deep breaths down into your belly. Daily returning to our natural grounding practice can result in a positive change. Soon, you will stand tall in your light effortlessly.

Find Joy Instead of Despair

Mom’s third day in the hospital dawned as I assessed my morning routine. In my quest to find joy instead of despair, I learned to practice self-care in my caregiver role. Even so, there were little messages that I heard but didn’t heed. For example, I didn’t take time to make breakfast, looking up Bojangles’ sandwiches. But I forgot to download the ordering app. So instead, I completed an abridged version of my Reiki practice, showered, and put on makeup, including mascara.

Find Joy Instead of Despair

When I arrived at Bojangles, I tried to go inside. The staff locked it. I backed out of my parking space and pulled into the drive-up line behind two men on foot. They had motorcycle t-shirts on, and there were motorcycles in the parking lot.

I noticed the pile of large river rocks where the speaker and menu had been. The drive-up line moved slowly. As we neared the temporary ordering setup, I heard the noisy highway floating through my open windows and felt the cool morning breeze. I

It was amusing to watch the motorcycle guys order. They jumped on and backed off the sensor plate to let the Bojangles employee know they wanted to order. The taller of the two bent himself nearly in two at the speaker stand. Then it was my turn to drive up and order. The long line behind me was impressive, snaking around the far side of the building.

I closed my passenger side window to reduce the noise. Waiting patiently, I listened for acknowledgment from the speaker stand. Finally, I shouted at the pedestrians in front of me, “Guys! Hey, guys! Motorcycle guys!” Eventually, the shorter man turned my way and started to approach. Then a voice from the speaker stand said, “Are you talking to me?” I answered, “No, but I’d like to.” We all laughed. I placed my order. It was so amusing; I took a photo of the two guys in front of me from my windshield.

As they approached the drive-up window, one said, “This is a first for me, walking in the drive-up at Bojangle’s!”

Mom’s Third Day at the Hospital

Soon I was backing into a space in the hospital parking lot. Gathering my purse, book, coffee travel cup, and changing my glasses, I locked the car and walked the familiar path to the temporary entrance of the hospital. A new face was staffing the makeshift welcome table. After sanitizing my hands and placing my mask on my face, I approached.

“Do you know where you are headed?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m very familiar with the route.”

“I’ve heard that a lot this morning,” she replied.

As I walked through the gauntlet of chairs in the shared emergency room waiting area, I began the familiar path past walls striped with blue painter’s tape. The young man who was patching drywall all week was absent. I missed saying hello or commenting on his steady progress.

You Never See it Coming

Stepping into the waiting elevator, I pressed the button for the second floor. As the doors opened, I saw two unfamiliar masked faces at the nurse’s station.

“Good morning, you guys are new!”

One of the women, striking in her deep blue scrubs that matched the blue of her kind eyes, had moved toward me. I noticed her name tag said ‘Brenda.’ I turned left for the short walk to Mom’s room. Just before I arrived at the closed door, the nurse, who had discreetly followed me, spoke.

“Are you Dawn?”

“Yes.”

“I just put the phone down as I heard the elevator. I’m sorry, but your mother just passed.”

Brenda was ready for my reaction. She took the coffee mug out of my hand as I covered my audible sob. Her sweet arms hugged me as I continued to cry. Finally, my need to purge grief subsided, her hug loosened, and our eyes met.

“Spend as much time as you need.”

The room was oddly silent as I walked to my familiar spot next to the bed. Mom was serene; her closed eyes had lost their tightness. Although her body had ceased to function, I felt her soul nearby.

“Hi, Mom. It’s Dawn. It’s all over. Don’t worry about anything. You can be with Daddy now.”

I stroked her still warm forehead, “I love you.”

I closed the hospital room door and headed for the nurse’s station to thank them. Then, out of the blue, I heard myself telling the story of my funny experience in the drive-up at Bojangles. I knew Mom’s soul was there, too, laughing along with us.

Find Joy Instead of Despair

Hospitals and death can be harrowing experiences. Or they can be joyful. Allowing my emotion’s full impact when I had the loving support of nurse Brenda opened up space for the joy of release. The release was for my Mom and me. Furthermore, it gave me the freedom to relieve the natural stress felt by the hospital staff.

Having experienced the deaths of two husbands, my father and now my mother, in the past seven years has served as a primer for grieving and letting go.

Mom and I discussed death many times. She and I were together at Dad’s passing. And both were adamant in their wish to allow death it’s due. I’m grateful Mom’s end of life wasn’t prolonged and that the hospital staff supported our decisions.

My understanding of the importance of self-care, especially in the role of caregiver, has brought me peace. I have learned how to find joy instead of despair. So, may your life experiences bring you growth toward fulfilling your purpose.

Sue Linebaugh Anderson Obituary

As I started placing the Sue Linebaugh Anderson obituary in the Lakeland Ledger, I realized there was no reason I couldn’t post it here as a blog post. So now I can write everything I want to include about my Mother’s life, including links to other blogs in the future. So if you feel inclined, please leave a memory in a comment.

Sue Linebaugh Anderson Obituary

Sue, 93, passed away peacefully on June 4th, 2022, after a brief illness in Boone, NC. She was born on Bastille Day, 1928, in West Palm Beach, Florida, at her maternal grandparents’ home. Furthermore, it was the 4th birthday of her older brother.  Grandmother Frankin, “Dashie,” was devastated over the untimely death of her son, Benjamin Franklin. The doctor hoped a birth would lighten Dashie’s depression. It worked, and Sue became very close to her Grandmother Franklin, spending summertime in West Palm Beach.

Soon, she, Floyd Jr., her parents, Claribel, “Frankie,” and Floyd Linebaugh returned to their Winter Haven, Florida home. The same year Bok Tower Gardens near Lake Wales was dedicated. Then, less than a year later, the stock market crashed.

Sue attended local schools, graduated from Winter Haven High School in 1946, spent a year as a Cypress Gardens Southern Belle, and attended a Business School in Washington, DC.

Getting Married and Moving

Sue met her husband, Norman “Swede” Anderson, at a Winter Haven vs. Haines City high school football game and married a year later in Winter Haven. They resided amid a citrus grove on Lake Crystal in Dundee for forty years. Sue taught aerobics through the Haines City Recreation Department for ten years. Their next adventure was retirement in La Garita, Colorado, in the high-altitude farming San Luis valley. Sue cared for Swede until he passed away in La Garita in 2015. In 2016, Sue returned to Polk County with her daughter Dawn Anderson and son-in-law, Wayne Simons. She spent her last months in Watauga County, NC.

The Family Who Mourn Her

Survivors include her sister, Carolyn Harmon, daughter Lila Rogers (Steve), grandchildren Elizabeth Opala (Joe) and great-grandson Elias, Michael Rogers, daughter Dawn Anderson, grandchildren Larry Marciano, David Marciano (Starlight), and great-grandchildren, Charlotte and Benjamin Marciano. Nephews Bill Harmon (Cheryl), Blake Harmon (Cindy), Rush Harmon, Reed Harmon, and niece Jill Snively. Niece Linda Harmon Morgan predeceases her. Additionally, Michael Roads, Swede’s nephew, mourns her passing.

There are many more relatives and friends whose life Sue touched in multiple states and countries.

Her Religious Life

Although Southern Baptist by birth, Sue joined Grace Lutheran Church in Winter Haven in 1960. She was active in Circle, taught Sunday School to preschoolers, and served on the altar guild until moving to Colorado in 1989. Similarly, Sue was an active Saint Peter Lutheran Church member for 26 years. Upon returning to Polk County, she rejoined Grace Lutheran in Winter Haven. Her memorial service will be later this year.

More Blogs About Sue Linebaugh Anderson

The morning of her passing