If Raven has come visiting you it can mean any number of things. Most powerful of all is the synchronicity that Raven assures you is pending. He is a master of bending and folding time and space so that you are exactly in the right moment at the right time. As a messenger you are reminded that those around you are reflecting back at you the things you most have to learn about yourself.Know that when Raven appears that magic is imminent. Raven is about rebirth, recovery, renewal recycling and certainly reflection and healing. He signifies moving through transitions smoothly by casting light into the darkness.
After my husband died, I went around my house, looking through his things, to see if he may have left a note, or scribble or something that would lead me to him. But my husband was not a writer; he was though a prolific story teller, a BS spreader and the like. He was a Welshman, moody and sentimental, given to weepy expressions of love and caring. He would leave messages on my phone, by singing songs he made up. (I still have 2 on my office answering machine.) The only thing I found was a couple of dollars in two new wallets that I gave him. (Which he never used), I looked in his Scriptures, and where most people scribbled, he did not, so even though he read his scripture, most of the pages are pristine. No love letters, no messages on scraps of paper. But what he did do was to always make a point, when talking to our friends and neighbors, to tell these people how much he loved me, how much I meant to him, what a wonderful wife I was. (Unknown to me), so I have found that at my lowest points, that when I really need to hear someone “say something to me”, in kind words, a neighbor will come and tell me these things. We have a neighbor who is a “curmudgeon”. He is this weird, little old guy (lol) who was a gear head like my husband. And they would compete with each other to wee who had the most tools, special tools and tools hard to find. He didn’t talk much and to this day I don’t know his name, but on Christmas he knocked on my door, and gave me a beautiful flower arrangement. He told me how much he missed my husband. So a “raven” brought a crust of bread to my door.
Last year, I prayed to be able to “put things into perspective”, that my grief would not overwhelm me, that I could just not remember the hard parts. There are a lot of hard parts, and just like any “random request” like that, with no stipulations, everything is relative, and so the “the place of forgetting” is forged. My days go fast, like hours, my weeks run like days. I hold on tight to every moment that is important to me so that I can at least be “present”. I have misplaced a lot of stuff, and I have re-bought things at least twice. The absence of love leaves a void; the absence of touch leaves a soul to become stunted in its growth.
The Lord is my portion: