Sacred Hellos Journal
Have you ever received a sign from a deceased loved one? You are not alone. In her book, Sacred Hellos, Noelle offers tips on grieving, steps to discover signs, and lessons of hope, acceptance, and resilience; revealing to us how she integrated these with her religious and spiritual beliefs. This book includes stories submitted by others and their experiences with signs from their loved ones.
6 in stock
Journaling saved my heart so many times during my life.
I’m so honored to present this Sacred Hellos journal.
This journal can be used independently to write your emotions, dreams, hopes, fears. It can also be used together with the Sacred Hellos book.
You can find the ebook version here on Amazon in the United States
You can find the ebook version here on Amazon for Canada
Have you ever received a sign from a deceased loved one? You are not alone. Perhaps you are finding yourself questioning whether or not this has happened to you. Signs from our loved ones can come in many forms. Cardinals, coins, numbers, feathers, dreams – these are all examples of signs I consider to be Sacred Hellos. There are countless other signs as well. What is yours?
In Sacred Hellos, Noelle eloquently moves us through her decade of mourning. Each stage of grief is woven throughout her journey. She shares personal stories of signs, her feelings of deep sadness and anger following the death of her mother, as well as the pure, raw emotions of holding space for loved ones during their transitions. Noelle’s honest, heartfelt stories and powerful artwork serve as a connection to those we have loved and helped us to find our own something that is bigger than ourselves. Noelle offers tips on grieving, steps to discover signs, and lessons of hope, acceptance, and resilience; revealing to us how she integrated these with her religious and spiritual beliefs. This book includes stories submitted by others and their experiences with signs from their loved ones.
“Sacred Hellos is the book I wish I had a decade ago.” ~Noelle
Excerpt from Book:
One Thing to do After a Death That Nobody Tells You
It was November and I was desperately looking through old family photos. It had been 10 months since my mom died and I was missing her like crazy. I found countless perfectly posed photos, photos of the dogs, random sunsets, and birthday parties. Finally, I found the picture I was looking for. It was the dining room in my parents’ home. The photo featured the large dining table fully set for our last family Christmas gathering before my mom would die unexpectedly just weeks later.
What I loved most about the photo, ironically, was not the actual dining table. It was the way my mom hung a wreath in her window or the mirror hanging on the wall that she had faux finished to make it look like the paint was crackling. The photo captured how she hosted, all her personal touches, her showing her love for us for that day.
Go into your loved one’s space and take a photo of the way the reading glasses are sitting on the side table, how the spice cabinet looks, or the jacket hanging on the hook. Photograph the wall of framed photos, the collection of ball caps, or figurines. Capture the yard, the tools on a workbench in the garage, the view from the kitchen table, even your favorite chair, or the kitchen tile.
My dad is more of a minimalist and mourning our mom took up most of his energy that first part of the year. He had very little emotional attachment to the stuff that he and my mom shared. None of it connected him to her. He carried his memories in other ways.
For me, however, I see my mom in all of it. I see her hands arranging the flowers into the vase on the table. Her turquoise ring and sterling silver jewelry adorning her fingers and wrists remind me of seeing her hands peeling vegetables before making her famous veggie, pasta salad. These things, especially now that she is gone, trigger loving memories of her. They make me feel connected to my mom’s energy and her spirit, her humanness.
In the time after someone passes there is a brief period when the way they had things is still in place. For me having photos is something that I did accidentally. I wish I had done more and had photos of every room. I wish I could remember her lamp, what she was reading, the way her clothes looked all hanging together in the closet.
That November when I was looking through photos, my goal was to put together small albums for each of my siblings. The albums would be filled with images of the houses we all had lived in together. The photos brought reminders of the bold wallpapers, wall hangings, and the way the bamboo plant sat under the stained-glass panel in the trio of kitchen windows. I knew each of us… (continued in the book.)
|Dimensions||12 × 10 × 1 in|