I’m an empath.
There’s a lot of hippie-dippy, flighty stuff associated with that word these days. Even googling the definition you’ll find references to science fiction and paranormal activity.
But it’s a real thing.
I don’t perform Vulcan mind melds or have special empath antenna like the bug-girl on Gardens of the Galaxy Vol. 2. The gift that I carry is an innate ability to understand someone else’s emotions as if I too were going through it. Even if I have never personally experienced what they have, I take time to reflect upon how I would feel in their situation and respond to them accordingly.
And I can literally feel the mood of a room. It means any time I see a person cry, I tear up. And angry people bring me down.
My first born inherited this characteristic from me. When he was 8, our neighbors died in a fire. He was so deeply devastated by the loss their family felt that he cried for weeks, wondering why we didn’t do more ourselves to save them.
Now a tween, his hormone shifts mean that he’s experiencing his empath ability more deeply than he ever has before. Recently, a new student at his school was struggling with the transition and had a meltdown. My son started crying uncontrollably and couldn’t understand why he was so affected by how this other child felt.
I explained it to him the best way I knew how. Our bodies produce frequencies and waves. You can measure brain waves and heart frequencies and more. I believe that the waves and frequencies we produce shift and change with our emotional state, which, in turn, changes the atmosphere around us. Certain people, like my son and me, can feel those shifts — those “emotion waves” — in and around others.
Okay… it sounds a little hippie-dippie, I’ll admit. But it’s real.
In fact, David Hawkins, MD, Ph.D., proved that emotions have measurable magnetic energy. In his book Power vs. Force, Dr. Hawkins explains how the measurable energy level of someone’s magnetic field — what he called the “log level” — increases with positive emotions. Interestingly, Dr. Hawkins found that cells actually die when the log level goes below 200, where the negative emotions, including despair, live.
I’ve not personally had a child loss of any kind, not even a miscarriage. In fact, when I was pregnant with my first born, I was very naïve and thought that stillbirths and the like were rare unless there was an underlying condition. I honestly thought once you’re past the first 12 weeks, you were golden. My grandmother had two stillbirths, but I thought that was “in the old days.”
When said first born was a month old, perfectly healthy and laying in my arms, I watched a segment on the Today Show about birth loss photography. I had no idea at the time, and I spent the afternoon sobbing because those families didn’t get to bring their babies home. I immediately faced an unquenchable need to do something for them—that it was unfair they didn’t get to take their babies home.
I became the area coordinator for our local chapter of this organization within a few months and did this for about a year and a half. But, while my desire to help was strong, there were limitations I struggled with through the organization and we went our separate ways. I was devastated at the time because I knew I had found my purpose, but no longer had an outlet. A dear friend said to me “Who said this is the end?” and I knew there was something bigger.
I spent about 3 years sitting on the vision God had given me to do more, knowing it was what he had for me but the timing wasn’t right.
Then in 2013 I met a 7 month old little boy named Logan who had spinal muscular atrophy, the number one genetic killer of children under 2 years old which causes their muscles to deteriorate. His family chose to take a palliative approach to his care, creating a bucket list of items he should be experiencing during his childhood.
The day I joined the family at their home, his bucket list item was playing with dirt and mud. His mom put each in a bowl, sat him on her lap, and put his hands in it. He laughed at first, but then started to get fussy. Mom asked if he was done and, with great determination and concentration, he threw the bowls off her lap and smiled with glee. And I captured it forever in a photograph. It was one of the most memorable moments of my life.
Three months later, Logan passed away and I begged God to let the time be now. I was ready and my vision was big. I didn’t want to just do birth loss photos; no, that left too many families out, too many moments to celebrate not captured. So, right from the start, On Angels’ Wings sought to do free photo session for families with a medically fragile child from maternity to 18 years.
Additionally, my experience to that point had been to take the pictures for a family, deliver the pictures, and then walk away. But, as I mentioned, I’m an empath. I would have an emotional connection to these families and want to do so much more for them. So, support was and remains a huge priority and the heart of the On Angels’ Wings mission.
OAW is approaching its eighth birthday and I’m in awe of how much it’s grown thus far. Before the coronavirus hit, we were seeing sessions increase in number by 66% annually. So many new things are on the horizon; we continue to have big plans for this year and the future of this organization. It’s an honor and a blessing to be called to do such work. This is my purpose, my passion, my heart.
