I understand how hard it is.
I know what it feels like to wish for things that did not come,
to work for things that did not happen,
and pray for something that slips by just beyond your grasp.

I understand how quickly a heart grows weary by surviving on wishes alone
but I also know this:
there has been a gift in it all.

Under every crestfallen moment
and rug swept out from under my feet,
for every disappointment
and shooting star that burned away into the darkness,
there has been a reason why.

Just as I am responsible for pinning the dream to the dream board,
for following through with a phone call;
laying the extra brush stroke
or accepting the first kiss
I am equally responsible for taking the risk to dream again, and again.
Because our actions are born from dreams
and our life is born from actions.
I want to know that I dared to live a life rich with both.

-Jamie Homeister

“I was just like you once. Eager to give from a fire that burned so hot in my belly I think I spent half my life in hell. My need to give would never stop. Even when I recognized I was giving too much, I would try to correct it by giving more. Continuously I would misuse my resources, handing my entire life away.

When I would get weary of feeling expended, or when I would fill myself with regret for all the giving I gave, I would raise my fists in the air and tether my heart in its cage declaring, "Never again!” ...until I came across a bucket needing a coin. A dog needing a pat. A child, bread. And one by one I would offer what I could because the giving heart doesn't identify with rules and boundaries. It doesn't quantify its export. The giving heart serves one purpose and one purpose only: to give.

It is the human condition that prevents the adaptation of the giving heart from growing into something powerful. My community didn't shield the Givers from abuse. It didn't help us navigate through the many lessons of boundaries and giving-fulfillment. Instead, Givers were scorned and challenged, my own heart's strings yanked on until they were no longer taught and formed, but loose and incapable.

How horrible is this fate? To be called insufferable for kindness? I ask you because you know. I ask you because you have a giving heart. And yet, in all this time that has passed between you and I, the giver still does not carry the prestige of identity, but instead, are branded by the hallmark of a broken heart.”

Stories from the Dead
Mediumship channel through Jamie Homeister

“So there is this story—it's one full of peril and death, fear, and shame. In this story, the main character, the protagonist, just an average guy, well he dies a thousand times. First, it was from heartache. Next, it was anger. Then, shame. Over and over again, he dies in the middle of these heavy emotions. He just could not see how life would go on.
But, it does.
The kids kept growing. The seasons kept passing. Lord knows the bills kept coming. Everyone is as they ever were, just as time marches on as it's always done.

So this guy, this character in our story, he gets caught up in another emotional swell. And as he's laying on the floor ready to accept his fate smack dab in the middle of one of his worst days, he stops to contemplate for a moment what is more excruciating—to die a thousand deaths or to watch the whole world pass by without notice, and without change as you do.

Now, I know what you're thinking, 'What in the hell kind of story is this?!' but stay with me here because this part is important. Death and consistency are two of the greatest miracles of life. It's obvious our character didn't die a thousand literal deaths, but he felt tremendous pain as he experienced life's heavier emotions. He didn't mask them; he didn't pretend it was okay. He said, 'This is horrible! I feel terrible! What I did was awful!' and then he slunk his sorry ass on the floor and stayed there for a while. But this is where the goodness of consistency comes in, because as he was filtering through his emotions thinking for the fiftieth time that surely he wouldn't survive this, it was life's routine that pulled him back up. Consistency became his stable ground. It was the expectancy of his mother receiving him as she always did, with a big hug from her tiny frame and a kiss with her crooked, pink lipstick that became a safe landing place. That one little thing that bugged the hell out of him also gave him enough courage to stand back up instead of let go. And that was the moment he died.

Now, hang on, don't let me lose you here because this is where things get really good. When our character finally stepped out back into the world he decreed could never be changed, he was shocked to witness that everything had. When he died, his perception died with him. Now, sometimes the changes were hard to notice while others were dramatically different. But what he could always count on were the people he loved the most to be as endearingly irritating just as they ever were, and that was enough to hold him through it all.

Yep. Death and consistency. They're two of the greatest gifts you could ever have. I have no doubt about it.”
 

Stories from the Dead
Mediumship channels through Jamie Homeister

“The story always comes back to you.
No matter what happens or how—no matter who said what, did what, changed this or that—you are responsible for crafting its change into something positive.
 
I couldn't ever see that. That's just not something I would let myself learn. I was too busy feeling everything I was carrying. It's like I decided to carry my entire life on my back, the weight of the world resting on my shoulders. I never stopped to look at what was mine and what wasn't. I never stopped to acknowledge that holding everyone else's burdens was of my own doing. I just sat with it, heavy in thought and heavy in body, until all these things that happened to me, became me. I would tailspin over and over again until I succumbed to the challenge and I gave up.
 
Looking back, I should have given people the opportunity to apologize. I should have handed back their shame I branded myself with. Now I will have to try this all over again, and I will have to remember that the pain others hold, their actions and their doings are not always a reflection of me. That it is my choice to live in the shadows of another's misery.
 
People will always hold responsibility for what they do to you, but you are responsible for how you let it change you. There is a big difference between the two, and next time, I'm going to do my best to remember that.”

Stories from the Dead
Mediumship Channel
-Jamie Homeister