My son was only 7 years old when he was diagnosed with a rare and serious eye disease. He came home from school one day complaining that he couldn’t see what his teacher was writing on the board, even when she sat him in the front row of the classroom. Of course I did what any caring mother would do; I took him to the optometrist to be fitted for glasses.

The young technician sat my squirmy boy down and began turning dials on the machine. A look of confusion on her face melted into concern, and then into panic. She got up and left the room, and upon her return asked us to step back into the waiting room. I knew something was wrong, but I had no idea that my son was faced with a disease that could leave him blind.

It turned out he had such a rare disease that what little research had been done could not pinpoint a cause or a cure. The only possible treatment was to hospitalize him, put him under general anesthesia, and inject his eyeballs with steroids. And this treatment was not to be administered just once, but every month for the foreseeable future.

According to the doctors, this terribly invasive and risky procedure wasn’t even going to cure him, but hopefully slow the progression of the disease. As a mother, I was beside myself with fear and dread.

I visited the library of a local medical school and spent days researching the disease. The papers written on the treatment were consistent. There was no magic bullet. The steroid treatment could help, or it could harm as much as it might possibly help. How could I subject my child to that? I had to find another way.

I had been studying metaphysics and spirituality for about a decade at that time, and I had a deep belief that everything is healable, however I knew little about actual methodologies. I began to research and to learn a lot about alternative medicine.

I tried approach after approach to heal his eyes – all natural diets, treating the eyes with light, supplements, homeopathics – none of them worked, at least for long. We would visit a practitioner, and his eyesight would improve but would not maintain the improvement. I began to think perhaps there was something else going on here, and when we visited a physic healer in Arizona; I realized how right I was.

Sienna was an Indian shamaness. She worked with the physical body but she also worked the mental, emotional and spiritual bodies as well. We visited her for an entire week during a particularly rough patch in his illness. His eyesight was nearly gone. He could read a word only if the letters were over an inch tall and the paper was held 3 inches from his face. It would break my heart, when I would walk into a room and he couldn’t see me.

Sienna not only worked with my son, she worked with me too. She was a wise woman, and understood my son may have been creating this disease with an ulterior motive (or partially because of one). And she worked with me to clear the patterns and contracts that were between the two of us so that he would be free to heal and so that I would be free to live.

You see when two people are dancing a co-dependant dance, neither is free. And if disease is part of that dance, the disease may not heal until one or both parties disconnect from the dance.

We were involved in a co-dependency too complex to describe in this blog, but basically he was controlling me through his wild-child behavior and yes, partially through this eye disease. Sienna carefully unwound the patterning and held a space for the disease to be lifted.

You see a healer doesn’t really heal anyone. They hold a space for you to heal. And she did this brilliantly.

Within a few days, my son could read print so tiny I couldn’t even read it with my 20/20 vision! I was ecstatic! I was overjoyed! All my research, prayers, hope, love and effort were finally paying off!!

We flew back to Colorado and I was in a state of euphoria! Until the next day, when my son’s eyesight returned to the prior state – so visionless he was declared legally blind.

What happened? Ultimately, healing is always our choice. This healing was not my choice. It was my son’s choice. And he had chosen.

In joyous creation,

Creating for Those You Love Part II