Paranormal Phenomena
Faith Is My Armor Of Light
When I had just completed high school, I decided it was time to venture out into the world, get an apartment and just experience living all on my own. So, one month after graduation, I let my butterfly wings soar and found a little place about a few blocks from where I grew up.
One night something happened I will never forget, even though it was 30 years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday. Someone brought over an Ouija board! I was brought up to believe that the Ouija board is a portal to the lower realm and negative energies, and that sometimes who you want to connect with isn’t always who actually comes through. My friends and I asked the board who we were talking to and his name was George.
The part that really creeped me out came later, after everyone had gone home. I was cleaning up. My apartment was on the third floor and as I was looking down at the four corner intersection below, there was a car sitting under the street light. An older, bald man rolled the window down and leaned over to look up at me through the passenger window. “I’m George”, he said. I was so creeped out!
My roommate was gone and I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep. Lying in my bed later, I was trying to make sense of it all. I looked across the room and the light coming in through the blinds made it so I could see the hallway and the doorway. And there I suddenly saw the shape of a man; the figure of a man that was so dark, but you could totally make out it was a man standing right there in the doorway! I will never forget his voice. “I will never leave you, nor forsake you”, he said. Amazingly, I felt immediately comforted.
The church I grew up in was directly across from my new apartment. And I just knew that he was an angel, letting me know that through my faith I am protected. I was never again scared to be by myself.
Telephone Call From The Other Side
When I was 16 I was really into going to church, trying to find myself and meeting girls! Why not? I was young and still trying to figure out life.
One day in church, while the congregation was singing a hymn, I kept smelling cigar smoke for some reason. It was as if someone was blowing it directly into my face, and it kept getting stronger and stronger.
I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. I hoped that it would help me to get rid of the smoke. Shortly after the smell disappeared. I decided to keep this experience to myself and not tell anyone.
After the long ride home, I remember getting out the car and finding my father in the kitchen. He asked me how church was, and whether I met any girls (he would always giggle when asked me that). Suddenly the smoke smell was back, and it was even stronger than the first time. The phone rang. It was my grandfather, but we got disconnected.
Dad asked me who was on the phone, and I told him what happened. A few minute later the phone rings again. This time it was my uncle. My dad was visibly shocked while speaking to him.
My dad then asked me a very odd question. “Are you sure you just spoke to your grandfather on the phone?”
Dad asked me who was on the phone, and I told him what happened. A few minute later the phone rings again. This time it was my uncle. My dad was visibly shocked while speaking to him.
The Girl Who Healed Animals At The Pet Cemetery
I grew up in Germany. My dad, coming from an extremely poor background, worked his hands to the bones to provide a roof over our heads and food on the table. Mom and dad married when she was only 19 and we lived in a house built beside my grandfather’s on a small farm.
My maternal grandfather was a pharmacist and had bought the land on the hill, where he built his house after he came back from the war. He had been imprisoned in France. Times were hard, but the land my grandfather was able to purchase the land at a low price. It was the last lot on the hill, before the heavily forested area, and it was an old pet cemetery, which was unknown at the time.
Around the time I went to high school, I started finding injured animals. Or maybe they found me? The first was a black bird with a broken wing. I brought her home and named her Raven. I learned how to feed her, and how to stabilize the wing so it could heal.
The next animal was a mouse. She had a bloody foot and was almost frozen to the ground. She was barely alive and seemed relieved as I picked her up and carried her home. I put her in a terrarium I had inherited from my brother, after he had used it for his ‘frog project’ in school. His 143 tadpoles turned into frogs all over the backyard, and mom was livid! Thanks for my Dad, they all moved to a pond.
My next surprise guest was a black cat. I came home from soccer practice and there he was, sitting on my desk in my room. It was a problem, because mom did not want any pets in the house! Period. I could hide the small animals, but what to do with a big, black cat?
I begged my parents to let me keep Fritzi. He was like a dog. He followed me wherever I went. My family voted for Fritzi to stay, on mom’s condition that he sleep on the porch. But, of course, Fritzi the black cat slept on my pillow instead. Sadly he was killed after a few months, when I called him for lunch and a car ran him over. I was devastated. Heartbroken.
Dreamwork With Your Angels
Dreaming is not only the doorway to the unconscious, but also an entrance to other realms. Our dreams connect us with our subconscious mind and the spirit realms, often in the form of strange and mysterious symbolisms.
We should be more grateful for our dreams, because even the difficult ones, that stir up our traumas and worries, help us to deal with any issues we have been resisting.
Dreams are also a portal into the influence of angelic forces. Connecting with the Angels in this way is easy and natural; it happens even when we are not aware of it.
The dream state is an entry point that offers unique advantages for our heavenly companions, for when we sleep, the mind is wide open. The resistances and blockages of our busy minds are suspended for us to access what normally cannot be seen. The fluidity of dreams is closer to the higher dimensions, rather than to the structured, material state in which we exist in our waking hours.
Our Angels often appear to us in dreams, but we seldom remember this, or, if we do, we do not recognize them. They are usually that friendly presence that often accompanies us through a dream. Or they may feature in the dream, as wise, powerful, and influential figures, but not necessarily with wings or other stereotypical symbols of their identity, such as ‘harps and halos.’
Angels are messengers of the Divine, and they come in various manifestations. For example, they sometimes appear in animal form, or make their presence known as an intense, bright light. They also have diverse things to communicate and infinite ways for doing so. But they all have one common purpose, and that is to be of service to humanity.
Most of us have all been brought up to believe that there is a separation between humans and Angels, but in truth we share our world with them! In our dreams, we can overcome the mental barriers that separate us from their higher energies.
Accepting Your Psychic Abilities
I was recently asked how I became aware and started using my psychic abilities. For many this can be a complicated, challenging journey, but I was fortunate to grow into my psychic gifts quite easily.
It all began with me growing up in a small town with a population of only 8000 souls. We were a large family of 12 children, which at that time was more common than today.
From the time I can remember, my mother used to foretell events and always spoke of a person’s “inner character,” as if she could clearly see their internal mechanisms as one would with an X-ray. It was also clear to everyone who knew her that she never seemed to be wrong in her estimations.
At the same time, my grandmother, as well as my father, frequently spoke of spirits coming back to visit us from the afterlife, and sightings of loved ones who had passed on was a common occurrence in our family life.
I can remember even as a very young child that I also just ‘knew things’ and certainly it never occurred to me to question the validity of any information I perceived. In my family it was not unusual to hear talk of someone having the “third eye” or the “second sight.” No one was ever denied their gifts.
As children we simply took these ideas in our stride and accepted them as natural and normal. We never had reason to question any of it and we didn’t realize this was not something all children experienced in their families. It was as common to us as any other domestic event that would occur in other people’s homes.
Psychic ability, metaphysics and the paranormal was something that we would naturally nourish growing up and utilize to whatever advantage we needed. Maybe ones of the reasons it became so strong among the siblings, was our inherent drive to survive under extremely arduous and stressful conditions. Only later in life did we come to understand that not all brother and sisters develop this strong psychic bond, with the ability to connect and detect danger in any situation, despite the great distances that might separate us to this day.
The Old Man And The Christmas Bells
With Christmas upon us I have been hearing church bells every Sunday in recent weeks, just like in my younger years. Going back to those years in my mind, I can remember being very young when my mother was stopped by a man who told her he was the new pastor at this church far from our house. He looked younger than my parents and he asked my mother if we had a church that we go to. She told him we did not and the man gave us an invitation to attend his church.
Since this church was reasonably close to where I grew up, it was fun to walk there at first, but after a while it seemed like forever. But my mother made a promise to us kids that after church we could get a soda pop or an ice cream cone if we were good. Mom knew how to persuade us kids to go to church without a fuss.
When I first looked at the church is seemed big, but it looked very different from the Catholic church across the street. We opened the doors and were greeted by two old ladies who handed out the programs for the service. They also told me that I would meet my mother down here in the same place after Sunday school.
Next I met my Sunday school teacher. His name was Rusty and since I was the ‘new kid on the block’, he introduced me to all the other children. Since I didn’t know any of them, I didn’t know what to think. Then Rusty started with the lesson and once again it seemed like forever for Sunday school to be over.
Later, I met mom downstairs and as I was walking down the hall a older man greeted me. I greeted him in return, not thinking much of it. After we had been seated and the pastor opened with prayer, I remember looking around and noticing that the old man was not sitting in the same pews anymore. He seemed to have left.
The Spiritual Gift Of Healing
My first experience of the spiritual gift of healing was when I went to visit my father in the hospital many years ago. He was in great pain and something told me to gently touch the knee on which he just had surgery. It was not my intention to achieve anything, simply to comfort him. But then I saw his facial expression shift from agonizing pain to instant relief. That to me was a miracle!
The next major healing miracle happened when one of my twin daughters went ice skating when she was about 8 years old. I was watching the children enjoy the beautiful winter day, when my daughter suddenly slipped and fell. I will never forget her agonizing scream. I instantly knew this was bad!
As I was making my way to her, others where already helping her, but she would not stop screaming and it shot through me like bullets. When I got to her, I immediately saw the bone protruding through her skin. I then put my hands over the break on her forearm and said, “It’s okay.” In the blink of an eye, she stopped crying and said, “Mommy it doesn’t hurt anymore. “
I held her arm all the way to the hospital and when we arrive they made me remove my hands. Again, I had to hear my daughter screaming in pain, with me feeling helpless.
After they set her arm, they let me see her. I touched the cast on her arm and immediately sensed it was not set correctly. Of course, they refused to listen to me at first, but I kept insisting that something was wrong. Finally, they agreed to do a second X-ray, which showed my daughters arm was in fact not correctly set. So, she had to have it done all over again. A nurse asked me how I knew. I never answered.