My beloved, let your mother enjoy her misery. She does not have to be positive and cheerful. You do not have to change how she looks at things, and you and your dear brother and sister also do not have to be affected by her gloom.

You do surround her with light and love.

Your mother does not want peace right now. She would rather fight it, deny it, kick her feet at it. She would rather have storm and thunderclouds right now. It is her way of coping.

Do not try to make her happy.

Just be with her.

Relieve yourselves of the burden of trying to make her happy. No one can make another happy. Have the idea not to take her so seriously. Consider her words as a sad song she hums. You don't have to pay attention to the words.

Relieve her of the pressure of having to be more than she is right now. She is uncomfortable and frightened.

Here's what you do. Put your attention on making each other happy. Give your brother and sister comfort, as you do. Talk about the good times in front of your mother. Give each other the gifts of love you would love to give to your mother and that she cannot receive right now.

Let it be her life and her death. They belong to her. You are visitors to her passage. It is your dream that she know where she is going and with Whom and that she leave you with pleasantness. It is her dream to complain and protest the inevitable. "I am here, and I don't like it. This is what my life has come to. Did I live? I am dying alone, and no one can help me. This is miserable. I will not die with a smile on my face. This is not all right with me. I will die complaining. I will not go like a sweet old lady. This is my time, and I'll spend it as I like. I refuse to be made happy. I protest."

No matter, I will welcome your mother, and I will see her for the beauty and love that she is. Her demeanor is her demeanor. Her soul is her soul. And her soul knows where she is going, and her soul loves with tremendous light. Never mind her demeanor. She is like a sputtering candle, that's all.

When she complains, agree with her. Top her on how awful it is. This might ease her need to complain. Nod and reflect and pay no mind to what she is saying. Hear Me while she is talking.

Does she sleep while you are there? Just sit with her. Just be there. Your being there gives her great comfort, whether she can express that or not.

Know that you are an angel, Beverly, an angel of love. You are no less because your mother suffers now. Your brother and sister are no less because of your mother's grief. Nor is your mother truly less. She sings a plaintive song, that's all.

During this time, don't forget to tend to your own needs. Do some walking. Have some joy. When it gets intense, leave for a while. And allow yourself to mourn. You also are entitled not to be perfect, dear one.

And your mother does continue to bring you and your family closer together and to Me.

This is not the scene you wanted, but it is the scene that plays. It is a passing scene. A few pages of a life. And you do know that the life continues, and that even the way of your mother's leaving serves a purpose.

Give Me your thoughts. Let Me take care of your mother. You and your brother and sister are merely passersby.

My love for you is great. My love is great. And I will see that your beloved mother has peace and knows My love. I bless her now.

We shall be in contact, you and I. I the Blessor, and you the blessing.

Later...

God:

Picture My light around each of you, your brother, sister, mother, yourself. Picture that this light is embedded in you and emanates from you. This will help you maintain your own resonance.

Ask Me to remove your judgments and any residue judgment has left in your wake and any after-effects of judgment returned to you.

Please let Us know how your hearts are eased.