We're only human (20)

One of the hardest thing in life is to see Christ in others when they are most difficult to be kind towards. Christ is within the battered and tortured soul; the docile and angry soul, the pompous and humble soul, the rich, poor and sick soul. We're all on a journey and we're all fighting our own battle.

In the moment when someone is putting you down and making you feel so insignificant, try to see Christ in them. When someone is invading your privacy and destroying your personal items, try to see Christ in them.
When someone is screaming in your face, purposefully placing fear in you, try to see Christ in them. When someone will never appreciate your kindness and willingness to help, try to see Christ in them.
When someone blames you for doing something you've never done, try to see Christ in them. When someone refuses to hear your side of the story, try to see Christ in them.
Trust me, I understand it is difficult to see Christ in the low and ugly behavior, we're only  human and we have our moments too. However, if we don't, we'll never learn to live and love as Christ wants us to.

He is with you (19)

It was just another ordinary day at work, which so happens to be a private alternative school for students that need that extra guidance. I was sitting on a bench in the foyer, the bitter air leaked through the slits of the doors as I patiently waited for my student just outside getting some fresh air. I couldn't help but think, I'd rather, at least, be in a warm classroom. Within that moment, stuck in my own thoughts, I briefly smelled incense and knew the Lord was with me. I remembered asked Him through prayer to let me know He is with me as I worked. And He did. He never fails us. Even in the moments you feel alone, He is with us. Not long afterwards, I was awarded Staff of the Month.

Missing rosary (18)

The first week of lent, on a Friday night, I was looking for my St. Therese rosary, but I couldn't find it anywhere. It was given to me by someone who used to mean a lot to me as a confirmation gift. I chose St. Therese the Child of Jesus that day in 8th grade. The beads are clear with tiny roses inside. It's very pretty. It was nowhere to be seen on my dresser,  where I know I haven't moved it for a while, so I prayed to St. Anthony and used a different rosary in the meantime.

This has happened before, I thought, just a few years ago, I couldn't find that rosary anywhere.  The little red box was there, but the rosary was not. Until a year later, something told me to open the box and when I did, there it was and I was astonished. Right away I asked my mom if she found it and placed it there, but she did not. It was so strange. In the time that I needed it the most, it was there.

Just the other day, I so happen to go over to my dresser and lo and behold, there was the little red box with my St. Therese rosary. I swear it was not there.  I throughly searched. If you don't believe me, that's okay,  but I could honestly say, this is not the first time and it'd probably happen again.

Just imagine (17)

The pain and hurt that others may cause us can be so cutthroat deep, your heart will always be wrinkled; just imagine the hurt and pain Jesus feels when He's calling out to us and we don't respond. Just imagine every little stab we do to others is a stab to Him. That occured to me as I sat and contemplated on my own opened wound; someone whom I thought was a friend turned out not to be one at all. And that's okay. I will lick my wounds and move forward. I thought,  some people don't know how to grow up and be kind to others. Be kind anyway, as Mother Theresa would say. If we didn't have at least a few kindhearted people in this world, just imagine the constant turmoil and hatred we could face on a daily basis. On top of losing a friend, someone had stole from me, which made my life difficult. It made me think of The Lord's Prayer, "forgive us those who tresspass against us." It will be very hard, because that trust has been broken.

It's difficul to be kind to those who are cruel to us and beat us down, even after all we've done,they just don't see it. They are the ones who need God the most. They have lost the light. And you think,  why is God making me go through this, I say my prayers and do good to others? Whether it makes sense or not, maybe God chose you because you are a prayerful person and He knows that no matter what you are suffering, you will pray for that person in need, since nobody else would. There may be a moment when we must sever the ties and hope he/she would find peace  within themselves as the healing process begins. when one door closes, another one opens. I always believed and still do that goodness  and happiness come out of chaos. Maybe that goodness and love could start with us too, me and you, instead of looking for it. Just imagine what a difference that would make, despite your wrinkled heart. I reminded the young lady lady who stole from me, "Do you remember that clementine I had given you because you were hungry?" She nodded her head yes. Two days later, she mentioned she had some clementines at home and wanted to bring one in to  give me. In my heart, I will accept that response, even if I never recieve one, at least there was a silver lining  of hope in that moment.

Where there is good, evil lurks in the shadows (16)

When I was about fifteen years old,  I had gone through a depression at some point. I felt weird and funky all over. I felt out of place and nobody understood me. Even a nice long walk couldn't cheer me up. I kept my head down and always felt heavy and weak. I was convinced God didn't love me and I felt useless. Of course, I was a teenager at the time, so I was dealing with hormones raging through me like a crazy bull, but from the outside, you could never tell. I would go to school, carrying my Walkman stuffed in my hoodie pocket listening to Thirty Seconds to Mars over and over with my head down, secretly writing/drawing in my journal. I had pricked the ends of all my fingers one day, because I had wanted to feel the invigorating pain as it reminded me of how alive I am. Was it normal to do? Could I blame it on being an emotional teenager?

Until one night, I had gone to sleep and had a series of nightmares. In my first dream, I saw my soul walking around my body as I slept.  I sensed my soul was sad, lonely. My second dream, I was struggling up the stairs to heaven, so exhausted and weak, I slumped there and unable to move. The stairs were a pristine white just as the clouds that bobbed around against the baby blue sky. Despite the beauty,  I felt ugly.  I remember I woke at one point and ran into my parents bedroom. Fifteen and scared out of my mind. I turned and crawled back into my own bed and I must've fallen asleep quickly,  because just then, the devil himself appeared to me on the left side of my bed. I remember it like it happened yesterday.  He had a gravitational pull on my face, forcing me to look at his face. I felt the strong pull on my neck. His face was dark red, covered in oily boils, his eyes were small, beady and inhuman, the color of yellow urine. His teeth were stalagmites and stalactites, grimy and yellow. I desperately struggled to pull my face away, because I knew I was looking straight at the face of Hell. He continued to grasp his strong pull on me and he began to speak to me. His voice hoarse, unworldly and no other human could ever,  EVER, replicate such a hideously disgusting voice. "I'm going to cut your throat open...on your sixteenth birthday,  I will kill you."
I cried out. I prayed. I cried out to God, SAVE ME. WAKE ME UP.  I prayed the Hail Mary...and suddenly, from the left side bed corner, I felt and saw imprints of hands and knees crawling across my bed, my body, waking me up from this nightmare. I turned to my right and saw an outline of a tall slim figure with vast wings that reached the ceiling. Her figure was somewhat clear/see-through and couldn't be seen like a human would be seen, but I knew immediately she was my guardian angel. She had saved me. To this day, thinking back on that sends chills up and down my spine and frightened tears to my eyes. I know deep down that dream was real. The depression and negativity I harbored only fed the devil, which I figured out what he gravitates towards. I saw Hell that night in a matter of seconds, minutes, but it was enough to where I feared sin. I realize our guardian angels are always fighting off demons, constantly protecting us against the invisible evil. Just because we don't see doesn't mean it's not there, lurking in the shadows for a weak soul. Just as Jesus keeps His promises, so does the devil. On my sixteenth birthday, I nearly slipped in the shower, but I felt something had caught me and kept me from falling and suddenly I am reminded of that night, how the devil wished me dead. Always remain in the light of God, even on your darkest days and despair is knocking at your door, pray to St. Michael the Arch angel to shove the devil back down to the pits of hell, because, after all, God loves us and calls out to us all, even on our meanest and darkest of days, He gave us angels to show us the light, even if it's the billionth time.

Butterfly Kisses (15)

A couple of weeks ago, as I was jogging, a yellow butterfly came and kissed me on the cheek. Yes, I was moving at a decent speed, so naturally,  anybody would think the butterfly flew into me. However,  that wasn't the feeling I had in my heart. I took it as a sign. I saw through the eyes of my heart that God likes to remind us that He is near and anything is possible.

Sometimes the signs are all around us and they're not that hard to see, you just have to have a little faith. October is the month of Mary; I've been saying my rossary in honor of the Blessed Mother. I stroll out back amongst the trees, flowers and mountains in the distance, and I sometimes come across a yellow butterfly flying beside me and I know she's with me.

Flashback about a month ago, the day of my job interview and before the interview was even set, I prayed to God to guide me that whatever is meant to be His will then let it be. Just then a beautiful black monarch butterfly was flying beside me as I walked. Afterwards, I found out about the job interview. I took that as a sign that whatever happens will be for the best because it's from God. Again,  as I strolled out back along the circle trail,  I prayed to the Blessed Mother and simply said you know what I need the most. I eventually go inside at the right time and received a call for a job offer. I know it's silly to think, but I thought back about that black monarch butterfly and knew that it was meant to be a ll along.

Searching for Liz (14)

God lets me know that He is with me in the small things. He tries to restore in us a sense of hope. A few weeks ago, I was stretching after a run when I had gotten a random number calling me. It's not out of the ordinary to have an annoying telemarketer calling or just someone whom mistakenly dialed the wrong number. It happens to all of us. Normally,  I ignore those calls and say to myself,  if it's important they will leave a message.
However,  this particular sunny day, the tiny voice within me told me to answer. So, I did.
"Hello," I said.
"Liz? " her tone was filled with an emotional exhaustion,  as if searching for this woman named Liz was her only hope, her last chance of hope.
Obviously I told her I was not Liz and she had the wrong number.
"Oh forget it.." she responded, and I could hear her heart plummet and she was clearly tired and hung up the phone before I could say another word. As I walked around the little trail, I pondered on how many families are out there desperately searching for one another. Disagreements arise while jealousy ensues and that's when grudges are given a new life. We forget who we are as we let the fire consume us from within. We forget why we're angry, why we're upset in the first place that we mistaken a grudge as a crutch to lean on for support. A grudge becomes a wall around one's heart and that wall needs to crumble. How many family members out there are searching for one another? Too many to wrap my head around. Maybe her grudge of a wall was beginning to slowly crumble and she was reaching out to apologize? Or maybe she was calling to forgive? Whatever the case,  maybe there are some of us trying to bridge the gap between loved ones and wanting to start anew. Let the past belong in the past and live in the moment. Listen to that little voice within your heart and seek forgiveness and find a new hope. We shouldn't allow our past dictate our lives. Yes, learn from your past, but don't allow it to rule you otherwise you'll be leaning on that crutch called a grudge. I've heard family members of my own to stop talking because they either can't handle the truth or become too prideful to seek forgiveness.  Let it go. It's not worth the heartache. I'm not sure if this older woman had found Liz, but I hope she finds peace in seeking her because that's halfway toward forgiveness and hope.  It begins with having the faith to get there. Once we could find the tiny flame of faith within us than that is half the battle and there, we find Him. I hope we all find our Liz because God created family to be together, love and respect and laugh with one another. On the days that it is most difficult to love, respect and find joy in one another are the days we need each other the most.

The dream (13)

Last night I had the most vivid, yet surreal dream. The room was empty with white walls as the sun revealed it was mid afternoon. I looked up at the ceiling and saw that there was an oddly shaped hole in the ceiling.  Think of Picasso and his surreal shapes of melting clocks. I climbed up through the hole and suddenly found myself amongst a vast ocean and above me were thick, ominous gray clouds. The impending storm. Not even a hint of sunlight. Despite the sudden fear and anxiety I felt and the never-ending vastness of the ocean, the waters were utterly still and calm and not a ripple to disturb its peace. The impending chaos in which we have no control over, no say and no way to stop its haste was ready to tear through calm waters, which is the soul. I glanced all around me, the vast ocean which seemed to swallow me while my heart raced...where does it end? I feared this intimidation. Yet, I hung on. I did not drown. The ocean is my soul and its peace and steadiness comes from the hand of God.  We all go through storms in life, whether personal or political. Either way, we should remain like the ocean, vast and never-ending like God's
love and mercy and calm as the peace He alone could embrace us with.

New place, new surroundings. (12)

Even though I am a day late, it is never too late to wish our mother Mary a happy Birthday. I know that she is guiding me as I settle into my new life in upstate New York. It's been a little over three weeks living up here and so far, I'm loving it. I'm still adjusting, especially dealing with allergies.  Apparently Golden Rod spreads like wildfire up here. Since we're staying temporarily at his brother's house, I'm treating it like it's my own. In the mornings, I walk and sometimes jog out back where a path is mowed. It's my own little sanctuary and I find peace. Last week as I was strolling along and listening to my music, I knew in my heart this is where God wanted me to be. That very moment. The wild purple and yellow flowers I admire (favorite colors), the monarch butterflies that cross my path and the hawks. As long as I don't come across a coyote, I'm good. Despite the changes I am still adjusting to, I know I am meant to be here at this time.

I get along so well with Tyler's brother's girlfriend.  She was hoping the same too before I moved up. Both of our prayers were answered. She took me hiking one day, while the guys were doing what they do best, fixing something. She saved me from boredom. While hiking, I saw Lake Ontario and touched the water. It was unusually warm. It was like gazing out at the ocean. On the way back, we talked about cemeteries and how she finds peace there. I agreed with her. We talked about haunted houses and how some ghosts continue to linger around. I told her I believe in ghosts and I have seen, but she's unaware that I have truly seen more. More than just an indecisive spirit. Even though I have spoken about my experiences publicly in my blog, I still keep it low-key to those I just meet. "Yeah, I've seen ghosts and angels and demons too...you know, the norm."  Nope. This is why my circle is tight knit. However, if you ever feel inspired to show others my blog, please don't hesitate.

On another note, maybe I should start a cooking blog. Thoughts? Mind you, I was never a cook, but then again, I never truly practiced either. Now I have two hungry, hard working men to feed. I guess this is good practice if I ever have boys one day, especially when they become teens. I realize that when you're forced to do something,  you're going to do it right the first time. The other night, I made some fajitas for the first time. Well, I had a fajita spice pack, but I still added a few extra herbs onto the bell peppers and venison. Yes, venison. Since they're hunters, the freezer is packed with venison. Last night, I made sloppy joes from scratch with venison of course. It was simple to make, but I was still proud of how delicious it turned out. Before I cook, I always say this prayer,  "Lord, I don't know what the heck I'm doing, so I need you to help me."  Or "I'm not sure what to make, so please inspire me."
So, I'm confident enough to say, the Lord is with me in the kitchen and I've actually found a therapeutic joy in it.

Good Friday (11)

In the few days proceeding to Easter (of this year), I had spent a few days helping my grandmother prepare and set up for Easter. We baked, we baked and then we just baked some more. We were ready to go somewhere on Wednesday when we received an unexpected call from her neighbor and friend, even someone I've grown close to in the past couple of years. She was in the hospital. She asked us to pick up a few items from her home. Mostly holy cards of Saints, because she wanted to pass them out to the nurses. She told us if that is the only way she could evangelize, then let it be. I thought that was so beautiful. To me, I saw her as being courageous in her moment of weakness and in her moment of humility, she saw an opportunity to give hope to others. At least to try.

While visiting her in the hospital, she told me that she bought me a whole set of fancy plates, mugs, saucers, etc. because it had my name on the back of it. She thought of me and couldn't pass it up. I thanked her and thought of how kind and generous she was. I also thought about the summer where I helped her set up her garden out on the deck. I maneuvered heavy cement blocks and placed the Sacred Heart of Jesus on top and another set of blocks where the Blessed Mother and angels stood. I used a screwdriver to drill in the trellis as a backdrop, (so my handyman boyfriend should be proud I know how to use a screwdriver), and set up the plants to her liking.

I felt that was her way of thanking me. The thing is, she told me, the plates are in the cabinet above the fridge. With boxes in tow, my grandmother and I gingerly took down the plates. She discussed that I could use them on special occasions for a large crowd and marveled at the bowls and how perfect they would be for ice cream and even soup. So, naturally, I imagined these scenarios. My own home and family to share these plates that would create newer memories, as I would tell them about my friend, Roberta.

Good Friday came, and it drizzled in the morning and as the day went on it began to clear. We were driving in the car on our way to Mass as I was pondering on the beauty around me and what heaven is like. Does heaven have woods to walk through? Are there rivers and streams? As I wondered, I suddenly began to smell a strong scent of incense. I asked if either one of my grandparents smelled it, but they couldn't. For me, the scent was powerful, yet it brought an overwhelming  sense of peace, I couldn't help but cry. These weren't tears of sadness. These were tears of joy and in that moment I felt a sense of renewal. My grandmother told me Jesus is with me. And I thought, wow, He chose me. He chose to spend time with me in the car driving as I was going to see Him. For twenty minutes he graced me with his sweet presence, but I know He is always with me. Always with us.

Not All Who Wander are Lost - Part 2 (10)

When I was ten years old I had gone on a religious retreat with my grandparents and great-grandmother (Babcia, which means grandma in Polish) to Quebec and Montreal. Not only did I discover that Canada is impeccably spotless, including their highways, but it was definitely strange to be wearing a sweater in the middle of August.
We visited many different churches and cathedrals, including a tiny chapel in a park. It was my first time being in a foreign country and hearing Mass in a different language, other than English. And it was the first time I had seen black squirrels.
Waddling down the road in the charter bus, I was looking forward to stopping somewhere so I could finally stand and stretch out. We were covered by many pine trees, which made the afternoon seem evening. The bus driver pulled into a parking lot and we all piled out one by one. Glancing around me I experienced a feeling of deja vu. I knew I have been here, but when? And why?
A moment later, it finally occurred to me. I recognized the small wooden cabin and the sign right outside the place. The vast field behind the parking lot and the same bright blue sky hovered above.

"I had a dream I was here," but I don't remember how soon I had said it to my family.

Inside, there were the wooden tables and benches along the walls of the place and the man behind the bar in the center was helping out the customers. I know it was a funny thought to have, but I half expected him to recognize me. The place was called Milk and Honey. My grandparents and I sat in the same bench in the back as I did in my dream. I ate some bread, but without the honey. I know at this point, I quietly told them I had a dream I was here. Everything looked exactly the same. They believed me of course. Back outside, I even spotted the small animal section with chickens and I think a goat or two. I noticed the road in which I had run down from, feeling lost and insecure.

But maybe I wasn't lost. Maybe that path was carved out for me on purpose. Sometimes we find ourselves wandering down a road or path in life and we believe we are lost and can never be found. But in actuality, He had lead us down that path for a reason. I wondered why I had dreamt of a milk and honey place and not of one of the cathedrals. I suppose it's because milk and honey symbolizes heaven. In the land of milk and honey. He will provide.

Not All Who Wander are Lost (9)

I was running down a very steep road along the side of a mountain, surrounded by many tall trees, which made the daylight appear dark.
I was lost and thought I would never find my home again.
Reaching the bottom of the hilly road had brought me to another very long and quiet road and the only direction I could go was either left or right. I furiously ran up and down the street, desperately trying to find someone I knew, like my mom or dad. I ached for a familiar face, but found none.
I did spot a quaint wooden cabin across the road with a large parking area next to it. It wasn't a home, it was clearly a restaurant or store. There was a sign out front, but the pine trees did their job of making everything appear snugged and sleepy.

I pushed the door open and found that it was a small dimly-lit restaurant and everything was made out of wood. The bar up front and the tables with benches along the left side of the place were all wood; the floors, walls and ceiling. There was a man with brown hair behind the counter and a couple of people quietly sat either at the bar or at the tables. The place was quiet and slow. Anybody could easily fall asleep and not be stirred for hours. I jumped and sat on the bar stool  and stupidly asked the man how to get home. He just stared at me like I grew a second head, but more so like he couldn't understand my language. I believe he gave me some bread with honey and milk. I don't remember eating it. I was so high strung and anxious, I kept zipping from one table and bench to the next and around the corner where the restaurant was dark and placed my head on a table in exhaustion and despair. I will never find home, I will never see my parents again. The gentleman watched me sadly exit the place and outside I wandered around aimlessly. The large parking lot was mainly empty, if I could recall, but around the back of the restaurant was a chicken coop with a couple of other animals like a goat. And then there was a vast green field, as big as the clear blue sky if flipped. I still had no clue where I was, but I know it was peaceful. 
Suddenly, I awake from this dream and twenty-three years later I remember it like it actually happened.

To be continued...

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.