sleepover with a friend Part 2 (8)

..................The red and yellow dots continued to invite themselves in through the window. How strange, I remember thinking, but how unfathomably beautiful at the same time. As for the clear figures, I counted ten as they glided around us over and over, sometimes stopping for a moment or two, and soon they'd continue to glide.

"I'm so scared, Andrea!" said my friend, as she cuddled up closer to me, which made me only profusely sweat.

We heard a pair of high heels clapping down the hall as the sound stopped right at my door. Who could that be? The eleventh light was coming for a visit. A moment later, a slender outline clear figure stood tall on my left with a wing-span that touched the ceiling and a dress that flowed to the floor. I felt within my heart this is my main light, the one that never leaves my side and peace overwhelmed my whole being. I always wondered, why the sound of high heels? Is it because we were young girls at the time and we'd be more familiar with its distinct slap on the floor? The night is like stepping from the world you've always known and experiencing a whole newer more flawless world. That was my ritual I experienced. Equivalent to learning how to dance with your eyes closed, because your audience is always present.

We ran downstairs and asked my mom if she had heard anything. Must I say what her response was? Of course she didn't hear any high heels and instructed us to go back to bed. Walking back into my bedroom, everything remained the same. I decided that we should do a little experiment and test it out. Let's sing a popular song that's on the radio. I don't remember what song it was, but I know it was a rock song. We belted out our voices as the obnoxious tone clashed together. 
Suddenly, everything that seemed to never end had abruptly vanished, including the flashing lights across the wall, the yellow and red floating dots. Completely gone. My main light no longer stood by my side...at least not that I could see at the moment. I remember feeling so amazed at this phenomenon.
Afterwards we said the 'Hail Mary' and the 'Our Father' and immediately our visitors of light made themselves known again. How amazing! At some point, the night got to us and sleep took over, and I could reassure you they were with us the entire night.

Sleepover with a friend Part 1 (7)

One night, while I was in fourth grade, a friend of mine was having a sleepover at my house. We would play Barbie's all day and all night. The bedroom was littered with Barbie boathouse, a makeshift house from a desk chair and bed, furniture and pink and purple clothes everywhere. It was like Mattel itself sneezed all over. Sometimes she would bring her own Barbie's over and we'd fight over them. We'd spend more time fixing their hair, changing their clothes and names and who had the hottest Ken doll as Barbie's boyfriend? Because Barbie didn't want to be stuck with the Peter Pan doll.  Needless to say, Barbie playing was serious business.
It's like I couldn't move fast enough, because playing Barbie's became this excited race and I can't tell you how many times I've tripped over Barbie's red convertible.
I miss those moments. And I'll cherish them forever, however, I'll never forget the moment that followed afterwards.

Does any kid truly sleep at a sleepover? No, of course not. We remained awake as I was snug in my twin bed and she was wrapped up in blankets and a sleeping bag on the floor. I offered her my bed, but she preferred the floor. We said our prayers and then talked, specifically about boys, because at that age, we knew everything. Not.

Flashes of yellow lights streaked across the walls. We thought maybe a car was passing by. Checked outside the window and there were no cars, in fact, it was pretty vacant and quiet. Naturally, we thought it strange. That's when I saw the light, my light, the kind and gentle visitors that shine through the dark shadows. This time many of them stepped though. Some tall, similarly to the height of a human and some were small and chubby like a baby. They danced circling around us in a playful manner. I cannot see faces, just the outline of their delicate figures. I wasn't the only one that saw that night. She was seeing exactly the same. Through naked eyes.

My friend was scared and despite experiencing the peace, I definitely felt uneasy because she was. I tried to reassure her that everything we were seeing is good and not here to frighten. But she insisted she'd climb into the bed with me.  In the meantime, the lights streaking across the left side of the walls were rapidly picking up speed. At that time, the shades from my window were opened and we began to see tiny red and yellow dots floating in from the outside. She thought maybe they were fairies, but I knew in the back of my mind they were not fairies.  

To be continued...

In honor of All Saints' Day (6)

Last night, in honor of All Saints' Day I've decided to read from my 'Lives of the Saints book'. Before I opened it, I said a quick prayer and in that prayer I asked which saint wants me to read about their life?

I immediately opened to February 24: St. Ethelbert, King of Kent. As I was reading the brief synopsis about his life, I began to smell this indescribable smell. I was snug in my bed and I did not spray any perfume recently, besides, this wasn't a typical perfume kind of smell anyway. If I could describe it in the best way I could I would say it smelled clean and masculine. This smell would come and go in spurts. It did not linger like perfume.
In my heart, I knew that this was the saint letting me know that he is here and I should pray to him. I also had this strong uplifting feeling, of confidence and of purpose. I am meant to do something more. We are all meant to do something more, as long as you open your heart up. Even the smallest contribution could possibly lead up to something much larger than we realize.

I don't expect you to understand my experiences. Yours may be different from mine, but that doesn't make it any more or less. He knows we're all different in personalities and characters, that's the way He created us. He helps us to understand the light in our own unique ways. Whether through sight, smells or something like a beautiful butterfly landing on your hand, reminding you that you are loved and their is a purpose.

Why do we sometimes see ghosts? (5)

One afternoon, I was home alone and as I stood in the family room, I had felt this sudden sadness, like a cloak of sorrow blanketed over not just myself, but it filled up the entire void in the room. And a thick fear. However, this overwhelming sadness and fear did not emanate through me. How could it? I was comfortably inside my own home, what is there to be afraid of? Nothing.
Those people who have experienced a ghost of some kind, all have said the same thing: I felt this presence. I wasn't the only one in the room. Something or someone was watching me. And I have to admit, it's true. I had the feeling someone was watching me. In movies and shows they make a big deal over it because they want to attract their viewers. Since I'm being honest, I love those shows too, but I could also tell when something is extremely bogus, which is most of the time. Like all ghosts want to deliberately terrify us night and day because they have nothing else better to do.  Maybe so, but that's not always the case.

This soul was only passing by. The earth seemed to stop spinning in the span of those seconds and my eyes naturally gravitated toward the back windows. That's when I saw an outline of a clear figure of a man. Not old at all, since souls are never old. He stopped a moment, turned and met my eyes. I sensed he was simply passing by from this world into the next. As much as I would've liked to have felt peace at that moment, however, it did not come. I could not find it and peace did not find me. I also sensed he was  shocked that I was looking straight at him. I also sensed that he was so fatigued. He just slumped by like a tired soldier. 

Once he slipped from my view at the last window, the fear and deep sorrow followed him like a plague. I realize now that the fear this soul carried was not to purposefully frighten me, this fear was every sin he harbored on earth was hanging onto him into the next world.
Heaven.
Will our souls carry on the same way?
What about those people who die so suddenly? No warning whatsoever.
We should pray for them. For mercy. There is only One who gives mercy.
Maybe they make themselves known to people because they are asking for you to pray for them. Maybe they hinder their souls from continuing because they deeply fear what they do not know. Fearing the worst. Maybe as people on earth they never knew that there is a someone that loves them since before they were even born? Could it be that they have chosen not to love and follow Him?

How can we service our lives for others while on earth? There's that old adage, 'live as if today was your last.' I am sure that is easier said than done, but I will tell you what one of my favorites quotes by Princess Diana,

"Carry out a random act of kindness, with no expectation of reward, safe in the knowledge that one day someone might do the same for you."

This doesn't necessarily mean to solve world hunger in one day or to stop every war in one day, (that would be amazing), but it's the simple things you do for others that make a huge difference. More than one can realize. Even just a simple smile.

So, why did I see this soul, this ghost pass by? Maybe he believed he could do it on his own. Carry the weight of his doubts, worries, fears and sorrow while on earth. He was wrapped up in his own worldly fear that he could not find the strength to find the light.

Also, I believe it is a reminder to everyone that our real home is in God's Kingdom and we are all tired, sorrowful, fearful souls trudging along for a very short time. We cannot make it on our own without His guidance and us allowing Him to guide us.  Maybe this soul needed more prayer because he feared that there might not have been a God? Maybe he believed God is a mean God and not a merciful one? If we all collectively prayed for others, living and dead, then God will hear and will answer. If we were all loving and kind to others, even to those that wrong us, then we have found the light and through us so have they.

Finding faith on a Saturday morning (4)

There are some things in this world that are not meant to be understood. It is only human nature for us to want to rationalize everything. Some things are meant for us to simply ponder about. And other things are kept to only have room for faith.
I remember sitting in the living room one brightly lit Saturday morning with my grandmother, (she had to have been on her third cup of coffee by the time I woke up) and I sipped on English breakfast tea. Her ritual every morning was in prayer. As we sipped away and she talked and I listened in a spiritual sense, I always felt that peace. And that peace manifested into something more.

My eyes locked onto an empty space of the wall across the living room. Suddenly, it was like somebody was slowly lifting a shade and behind that shade was the light of the sun and as this beacon of light shone, I saw two women figures that seemed to be in motion. I saw the swish of their long dresses and they were carrying each a huge jar of some sort on their shoulders. I could tell these women were working. These two women might've been carrying jugs of water for their families or holding food or clothing. That I am not quite sure about. In my heart, I knew these women were going about their daily tasks, their daily morning rituals. It was truly amazing to witness, even as I think back on it now. I was able to take a glimpse of history. The past that was brought right before my eyes. Or is it not the past? Could what we perceive as history be happening now as I write? Just a thought.

In the moment of gazing at these women, I felt in my heart, again, that they were trying to tell me something more. They have a story and their story is unfolding right before my eyes. These women were not only physically fit, but they were happy, spiritually strong with kind hearts, despite the seemingly mundane repetition of working day in and day out to care for their families.
I pointed at the image to show my grandmother and said,
"Dontcha see that!" More as an expression rather than a question, but very quickly after I had said that the image of the women had vanished. And then it was back to being a plain wall. My grandmother did not see what I had seen. Something not of this world, but had once left its footprints. Seeing the image had given me peace.
I cannot understand why I saw such an image or an image at all for that matter?

For weeks afterwards I pondered and even years later to this day, I do not know why I experienced such a beautiful and peaceful moment, a simple moment of the past. I realize now that sometimes we are allowed to witness what the human mind cannot decipher, but your heart tells you to have faith.

Labels (3)

I dreaded walking home from school everyday. If I could've turned myself inside out or even better, become invisible, I could've danced my way home happily. Little shy me. Little, feeble-minded, shy me. Labels that were thrown at me from every direction. Ignorant. That's my favorite. It's like I had my brain out in a display case and they pinpricked my flaws my weakness. That stuff that was inevitably a part of me, but it certainly did not make me who I was as a person. A human being dressed in more than just flesh and bone, but one should and one heart. Labels that delve deeper thank skin, these were labels that were hidden, or at least, I believed to be hidden. I wanted them to be hidden. Unfortunately, they were discovered. Obvious to the outside world. I felt that my character was being attacked. The part of me I have grown to detest. The labels I have grown to believe in.

And that's when I saw them, the small ones dancing in threes. Just an outline of tiny bodies. Going around in a continuous circle, smiling and joyously laughing and dancing as I arrived home. I just stood there in the driveway, curiously watching. It delighted my heart to see such beauty, but such an unexplainable, typically unseen event, brought upon the naked eye. My naked eye. And I knew there is nothing to be feared. What happens in the past, stays in the past.

Peace (2)

Peace. What is Peace? A peace of mind. A peaceful heart? A peaceful candlelit dinner between two lovers? Peace comes from within and it's given in times when we need it the most. Even during the times we don't realize we needed it, because, trust me, everybody needs to find peace. And we find peace in the darkest corner where nobody would ever suspect a shed of light. But a darkness doesn't necessarily mean a literal darkness. There could be a darkness within the blinding light. Incognito. Deception.

So there I was lying in the darkness, my brain settled on the plump pillow, not sure what thoughts compiled in my brain, probably the thoughts of the day. Not wanting to slump down the school halls again. No, don't make me do it again. I cannot face them. Not again. Not ever. But I knew deep down I had to. How can somebody be your friend one day and forget about you the next day and all the days following? How can people put on a glamorous show and pretend to be your friend and fool everyone. And sometimes you feel like the fool. I know I did. Like puppets. Everybody plays their part. Their scripted words. Their staged expressions. It's like you can almost guess their words hauntingly memorized like song lyrics. Top 40! Only this wasn't Top 40, even though they acted like it. This was middle school. And while these pretend friends saw me as weak-minded and slow, my heart saw their darkness through their blinding light they had portrayed to fool everybody else. They were the fools. At first, I was the fool for believing them. As I laid there and without thinking about it, the light had visited me once again. Surrounding me like friends at a party. And they embraced me with their peace. That kind of peace a smile awakens on your lips and doesn't go away.

Rituals (1)

 
My brother had a weird way of falling asleep every night as a child. He would curl up into a ball, but in a fetus like position and bounce his head over and over on his pillow. As he continued his soothing process, he would hum or moan the same tune, the exact pitch. The only difference would be whenever his head bounced off his pillow like a trampoline, it was as if he was desperately trying to take-off through the roof. Maybe that's what he was doing? He would bounce so hard, his small curled up boy body would shoot up like a rocket through his stick on stars ceiling and fly straight up to the unknown night sky. And eventually the stars would grab him and stick him in the sky.  Then every night we would gaze up at the night sky and find him amongst the stars. The most dazzling one, because he is the newer star, the youngest in the bunch. We will wonder, why did he have to bounce his head so much on his pillow?

It was a ritual. Every night I'd lie awake listening to my brother's ritual of sleep. Over and over again. Like the sound of a clock ticking its hand. Only this was more soothing. Even for me. I smiled in the darkness. Just like my brother. Our separate bedrooms had to be in utter darkness. Any kind of light kept me up for hours. Night lights were never an option. They became hazardous for nightmares because of the unknown shadows casting up and down the walls. Like it was there all along, but only seen with night vision. As he performed his nightly ritual of sleep, I had my own ritual of sleep. One that I was always used to. I would see light. In fact, many light would manifest itself right before my naked eyes. It would reach out and surround my bed these tiny lights of different colors. In actuality, I wouldn't sleep. The excitement of light that paraded around me kept me up for what felt like hours. But, somehow, I would always wake up restful every morning.

I wondered what my parents thought about my brother's sleeping ritual and my visitors that awakened themselves in my presence? the night is a very ritualistic event. Unseen by the outside world. At night, we each have our own individual world. Only we see. Nobody else knows. But I must admit, these lights never gave me any nightmares. They emitted a different kind of light. A light of being. A light not of this sometimes ugly world.

Sometimes I would reach my hand towards them and try to feel what this light might feel like. Nothing. At least not physically. I always wondered why I saw this light. Like if a brick wall stood before you and only you can see the invisibleness on the other side. And no matter how many times the person next to you tried to see what you saw, it was thoroughly impossible.  But nothing truly is impossible. My brother would bounce his head and hum until he finally exasperated himself and sleep raptured him like a thief. That was his goal after all. Then there was me, just five or so feet away, gazing at all the lights filling up my bedroom, as if it were the hang out place for other worldly beings to relax. They felt most comfortable to reveal their true selves. Their true colors in my bedroom. And I so happen to be there. Just curiously watching.

Morning would peak through the curtains of eyelids and life would begin in its normal routine. Breakfast. School. Lunchtime. More school. And finally a long walk home. Dreadful homework. Dinner and family time.
 
The worst part of school was fighting through the crowds of bullies. They say it's just a phase. These bullies. And some say it's survival of the fittest. I say it's character building. Yes, roll your eyes. Get angry. through it all, the typical name calling, being made fun of over stupid things; always being left out because you're too tall, short, pimples, bad hair style, too slow, weird, whatever... For me I was too tall apparently and I walked too darn fast, had green eyes (technically they're gray) and being slow minded. And God forbid if I had a ton of acne that week or two or three. Which I did (all the time) and I hated it. Instead of covering my face with make-up, I'd diligently applied the medicated cream, because I thought make-up looked funny on me. Plus, my mother would make me wear the cream. The stuff would dry up my face like a rock. And I'd go throughout the day feeling trapped within this tight bind as if it were the only thing keeping me together. On the way home, I'd fall apart, slowly crumble down the road as my 'so called friends' tormented me with their hissing remarks, shouting insults thrown at me like jagged stones. Mothers are so cruel. Why must I wear this drying  face cream? But they aren't making fun of me for the acne medication this time, (which anybody can tell that it stiffened my face). This time it's because, well honestly, I don't know. Even at that moment I couldn't understand why. I just felt myself falling apart, but don't worry, I made it in time to crawl atop my boxes and hide in my bedroom closet. My dresses and dance recital outfits covered my tears.

One sunny afternoon, I arrived home, once again in tears. I opened my bedroom door and there he was. Just waiting for me as a friend should wait for another friend. Smiling, he outstretched his hand in a gentle greeting, but I turned back around and walked out. How could this be? Was he truly standing in my room? I opened the door once again and saw him and I could tell he was the main one of the beings. Only this time it is broad daylight. Dressed in a valiant armor, I could tell he has fought many unknown battles. The peace that radiated from him never ceased. He calmed my soul.

In some stories and legends, they make the night out like it is when all evil happens. What is invisible is feared and not understood...but whenever night came I knew I'd be filled with this unexplainable sense of peace. Naturally, they sought me only when the house was calm and the events of the day were being thought. Sometimes their is that one who steps out into the light.