One of my experiences with the black division

In the summer of 2011 my step dad was diagnosed with a terminal illness, he passed away a month later. I remember the shock at the time, followed by a feeling of numbness. Then with friends that night it hit me, like the ground had collapsed beneath me and I was falling down and I would never stop falling.

I remember the day after the funeral, I had been practicing sanse for two years by then and if it wasn't my first crisis of faith it had been one of the most serious. I remember lying in bed and thinking why should I get up, what was the point? Fuck God I thought and fuck the spirits, there wasn't any point anymore to anything.

I got a text then from one of my friends who was a practitioner, I hadn't text her or told her how I was feeling but there it was. She works with Baron and he had told her to send me a simple message. God and the spirits love you and they haven't abandoned you, even if you think they have. My mum came then and got me up, told me she was going to an interfaith rally to protest against racism and she wanted me to come. At first I wanted to just stay in bed but I got up and went instead and in that crowd of people, each with a candle lit in the night, I knew that God and the spirits hadn't abandoned me or my step dad. That some mysteries, like love, remain even in the face of death.

I've been helped many times since then by the black division, whether by Santa Marta, Baron Samedi, Papa Ghede or Baron Del Cementerio but even though I've had much more impressive things happen, that was their biggest miracle and the best gift from God. Reminding me that love exists even in the darkness of the night.