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.