I Believe.
Real people’s stories, thoughts & beliefs about
Guardian Angels, Heaven, Soul Mates,
The Afterlife, Near Death Experiences and more.
Book trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AR7h0wkhTPQ
SMASHWORDS EDITION
ISBN 978-1-4661-9989-7
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COMPILED AND PUBLISHED BY:
By Patti Roberts
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Copyright @ 2011, Patti Roberts
Cover Art: by Og-vision
DRAGONFLY by Lesscholz
Date of first Publication: 2011
Second Publication March 2012
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be copied reprinted of sold without the permission of the publisher. Thank you for respecting the authors and their work.
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WITH THANKS
Many thanks to the People that are kindly sharing their stories, thoughts, and beliefs to make this publication possible.
I want to hear your stories and look forward to hearing from you!
Patti Roberts: pattiroberts7@gmail.com
I Believe Facebook Page - http://www.facebook.com/groups/262962947118558/
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Millions
of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake
and when we sleep.
~John
Milton, Paradise Lost
Prologue - Contemporary belief in angels
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Seal of Sant'Angelo (rione of Rome)
A 2002 study based on interviews with 350 people, mainly in the UK, who said they have had an experience of an angel, describes several types of such experiences: visions, sometimes with multiple witnesses present; auditions, e.g. to convey a warning; a sense of being touched, pushed, or lifted, typically to avert a dangerous situation; and pleasant fragrance, generally in the context of somebody's death. In the visual experiences, the angels described appear in various forms, either the "classical" one (human countenance with wings), in the form of extraordinarily beautiful or radiant human beings, or as beings of light.
In the US, a 2008 survey by Baylor University's Institute for Studies of Religion, published by TIME Magazine, which polled 1,700 respondents, found that 55 percent of Americans, including one in five of those who say they are not religious, believe that they have been protected by a guardian angel during their life. An August 2007 Pew poll found that 68 percent of Americans believe that "angels and demons are active in the world", and according to four different polls conducted in 2009, a greater percentage of Americans believe in angels (55%) than those who believe in global warming (36%).
According to the Gallup Youth Survey, in a Teen Belief in the Supernatural poll in 1994, 76% of 508 teenagers (aged 13–17) believe in angels, a greater percentage than those who believe in astrology, ESP, ghosts, witchcraft, clairvoyance, Bigfoot, and vampires. In 1978, 64% of American young people believed in angels; in 1984, 69% of teenagers believed in angels; and by 1994, that number grew to 76%, while belief in other supernatural concepts, such as the Loch Ness monster and ESP, have declined. In 1992, 80% of 502 surveyed teenage girls believe in angels, and 81% of Catholic teens and 82% of regular church attendees harbored beliefs in angels. According to another set of Gallup polls, designated towards all Americans, in 1994, 72% of Americans said they believed in angels, while in 2004, 78% of the surveyed Americans indicated belief in angels, with the percentage of Americans that did not believe in angels dropping from 15% to 10%, and the percentage of Americans that were "not sure" dropping from 13% to 11%.
In Canada, a 2008 survey of over 1000 Canadians found 67 percent believe in angels.
Reference - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angel#Contemporary_belief_in_angels
Prologue - Reincarnation
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Reincarnation refers to an afterlife concept found among Hindus, Buddhists, Jains, Sikhs Rosicrucians, Spiritists, and Wiccans. Reincarnation is also a belief described in Kabbalistic Judaism as gilgul neshamot (Reincarnation of Souls). In reincarnation, spiritual development continues after death as the deceased begins another earthly life in the physical world, acquiring a superior grade of consciousness and altruism by means of successive reincarnations. This succession leads toward an eventual liberation.
One consequence of the Hindu and Spiritist beliefs is that our current lives are also an afterlife. According to those beliefs events in our current life are consequences of actions taken in previous lives, or Karma.
Rosicrucians, in the same way of those who have had near-death experiences, speak of a life review period occurring immediately after death and before entering the afterlife's planes of existence (before the silver cord is broken), followed by a judgment, more akin to a Final Review or End Report over one's life.
Many Wiccans, though not all, profess a belief in an afterlife called the Summerland, a peaceful and sunny place where the souls of the newly dead are sent. Here, souls rest, recuperate from life, and reflect on the experiences they had during their lives. After a period of rest, the souls are reincarnated, and the memory of their previous lives is erased. Shi'a Muslims believe to Raj'a that can be understood as a limited reincarnation.
Reference - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Afterlife
Afterlife
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The afterlife (also referred to as life after death, the Hereafter, the Next World, or the Other Side) is the belief that a part of, or essence of, an individual which carries with it and confers personal identity survives the death of the body of this world and this lifetime, by natural or supernatural means. In some popular views, this continued existence often takes place in a spiritual realm, and in other popular views, the individual may be reborn into this world and begin the life cycle over again. In this latter view, such rebirths and deaths may take place over and over again continuously until the individual gains entry to a spiritual realm. Major views on the afterlife derive from religion, esotericism and metaphysics.
The dead are usually believed to go to a specific plane of existence after death (other than eternal oblivion), typically believed to be determined by a god or divine judge, based on their actions or beliefs during physical life. In contrast, the term afterlife refers to another life in which only the "essence" of the being is preserved, and "reincarnation" is another life on Earth or possibly within the same universe.
Reference - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Afterlife
Real life stories and beliefs By Real life People
Part 1- At Home With a Ghost - By Sarah Kernochan
It always amuses me to listen in on people debating whether or not ghosts exist. For me, there’s no debate. I have one.
When I was 27 I didn’t believe in life after death. The proof just wasn’t there for me. In that same year, on the recommendation of a friend, I visited a psychic (Frank Andrews) for the first time. I had a problem. I was temporarily homeless, spending nights in an upstairs guest room at my parents’. I’d never used this room before, but after I went to college my old bedroom had been taken over by my dad as a study. I didn’t sleep well from the beginning in this unfamiliar room. I would start to fall asleep, and then strange things would happen: sounds like something rolling across a wood floor (the room was completely carpeted) or once I had the sensation my head was in someone’s lap who was stroking my head. Another time, I felt my toes being yanked sharply, as if someone was impatiently demanding my attention. I was frightened, and didn’t know where to turn for help. A friend suggested I see this psychic.
Towards the end of the reading, and without my prompting, he mentioned there was a spirit around me. “It’s male, and you knew him. Don’t worry,” the psychic said, “he’s protective.”
I returned to the guest room without fear, and was able to identify, from clues in the room, exactly who my ghost was. In fact, I don’t know why I didn’t see it right away.
My grandfather was not someone I remembered much of. We didn’t see him that often. I recall his knees and his fancy cane. I recall the circus he sent us tickets to. I recall his house in New York City. He died when I was eight.
But here in this room were his furniture, his books, his portrait, and a bas-relief of his family crest. My parents had stashed all these things up in this guest room to keep them out of harm’s way (we were five rowdy children and a couple of dogs).
The question remained: why me? Why was he trying to make contact with me? I stood and addressed the room: “I know who you are now. I’ll try not to be afraid anymore, if you find some way to communicate with me that doesn’t frighten me as you’ve been doing. I’m open to knowing what it is you want from me.”
Thus began a relationship between a family phantom and myself, which has endured, off and on, until the present.
* * *
My grandfather was a composer and music publisher. He was also, according to the New York Times, one of the wealthiest young bachelors in New York, and very social, belonging to a host of exclusive clubs plus the Freemasons. Thus his output as a composer (mostly songs and choral music) was relatively small. It reduced to a trickle after he served in World War I, married my grandmother in Paris, and returned to a life of hob-knobbing and carousing, dividing his time among his three homes. Soon after they were married, my grandparents got the son-and-heir thing over with by producing my father and then turning him over to the household staff and a string of governesses.
My father, too, wanted to be a composer when he was in his twenties. Like his father, he too retreated from composing after serving in World War II. Instead he became a professor of law at Columbia and raised a family. I became the next generation of composer in the family in my mid-twenties, when I landed a recording deal with RCA as a singer-songwriter. My first album, House of Pain, came out in 1974. I had composed most of the songs for my second (Beat Around the Bush) when I had my first encounter with Grandpa’s ghost.
I mention my musical provenance because, not long after I opened myself to communicating with him, I began to receive fragments of music in my dreams. I would be on my way to waking, in that twilight between states of consciousness, when a phrase or snatch of melody would come, along with an urgency: memorize this so you can recreate it when you wake up. The figure would repeat and repeat until I had it down. Upon waking, I would go directly to the piano and pick out the notes, transferring all to music notation paper and then building a song on them. It was a bit like taking dictation, except that once I started fashioning the song it became my own.
Sometimes instead of music I would be shown a story for the basis of a song. For example, right before waking I witnessed a scene unfolding between a pre-adolescent girl and her new stepfather in his study. I even got his name; she called him Mr. Sloane. (The resulting song "Mister Sloane" can be downloaded from my website.) It was a feverish time, as if I was on speed. Sleep became work from which I would awake to more work, the borders dissolving between conscious and unconscious. I knew where these directives were coming from. I had opened the door, after all. But the increasing force of creative imperative started to frighten me. I felt like I was being blown around in a gale.
I was also feeling more than a little crazy. There was no one to talk to. My shrink admitted she didn’t believe in ghosts and kept trying to link these episodes to my early life, especially to my relationship with my father. And I was totally reluctant to talk to my dad, because my dream-time interlocutor was his deceased father, or so I believed. Dad was also an avowed atheist who often said that death was the end, period, and nothing followed.
I called the psychic, Frank Andrews. “You told me I have a spirit around me, a man whom I knew when he was alive. I’ve figured out he’s my grandfather, and I need some advice now.” Frank said, “Don’t tell me any more. Come back to see me, and bring a picture of him.”
Great. The only way to get a picture of Grandpa was to ask my father for one.
* * *
“Why?” My father looked at me skeptically when I asked him for a photo of his dad. I couldn’t very well tell him I was in communication with his father’s ghost. And I’d never before shown any interest in my grandfather. Maybe because Dad didn’t talk about him much.
Dad still resented both parents. They had fobbed him off on nannies from the time he was born. Once they even left him for months with a strange couple in Italy while they blithely toured Europe. They were emotionally restrained; my grandmother wouldn’t greet him or give him a kiss whenever he came home from school because she was afraid he’d become a mamma’s boy. They stuck him in St. Marks boarding school when he was only 12. He was passionate about music, and Grandpa provided him with the piano and teachers but never gave him a word of encouragement when he started to compose seriously. Dad once said, “Why did they have me if they didn’t want to be around me?” He became estranged from his mother, finally, when he was in his twenties and mentioned that he was going to an analyst. His mother hit the roof. “You can’t do this to our family! People will think you’re crazy!” They had a falling out; possibly he pointed out that he had to go to a shrink because of his parents’ utter failure to be parents.
So he wasn’t that happy to dig up a picture of his father for me. I told him lamely that I was just, um, interested in Grandpa, without giving a reason. Dad gave me what I wanted, and off I went to Frank Andrews, the psychic, for a second visit.
I started to give Frank the photo when he stopped me: “Don’t tell me anything, and put the photo face down.”
He started off by describing the man in the photo without having seen him. I still have my notes from this session: “Sloping forehead, hair receding on either side, used to be thicker.” He got that right, judging from the headshot I’d brought. But I had no way to corroborate the rest: “Beautiful hands, long tapering fingers, with a big puff of Venus [the part under the thumb]. He has a Mercury forehead – all mind, too fast a thinker. Used to having his own way but easy to work with if you’re doing it his way.”
Frank looked up. “I see him darting, pacing, agitated around you. Impatient. You’ll get signs, like things falling off the wall, or he’ll steal things. Do you know his birthdate?” I didn’t. “I’m getting that he was a Sagittarius, Gemini rising. Healthwise, his heart was his weak spot. I’m surprised he got married because he was an independent sort. He was buried with a ring. Another ring of his will appear in due time. Did he have an east coast retreat, in the Cape Cod area?” That much I could confirm. We had gone as a family to Grandpa’s beach house in Martha’s Vineyard after he died, a trip I remembered very well because we got trapped in a major hurricane. “You should go there,” said Frank. “Something’s there for you.” Oh yeah, I wondered, whatever happened to that house?
At length I blurted out my problem: that I was being bombarded by music before waking and I didn’t know what it was for. My recording career was over and I wasn’t performing anymore. I’d stopped writing songs – until now.
Frank said, “When he was alive, he was working on a long piece like an operetta, which he never completed. He wants you to complete a similar type of piece, kind of like Weil’s Seven Deadly Sins. And then he might go.”
“Might?” I look at these notes now, and I have to laugh at the “might” part. Because he did go…but then he came back. He goes and he comes back, still to this day.
It’s 36 years later and I’m still stunned how accurate Frank’s reading was. Some of it I could corroborate when I got home afterwards and got my Dad to talk a little about his father. I found out Grandpa’s birth date. Yes, he was a Sagittarius. No birth time was recorded so the Gemini rising wasn’t verifiable, but he certainly sounded, from Dad’s description, like a quick-witted, impatient, dominating man. As for the physical characteristics, you can see for yourself from this photo of Dad with his parents:
Grandpa did get married later in life, age 38, after a lot of clubbing and partying. And he did die of a heart attack – in the Martha’s Vineyard house, in fact, while he was getting dressed to go out for yet another night of carousing with his rich WASP mates.
To read more about this story by Sarah you can go to her blog http://sarahkernochan.blogspot.com.au/2011/12/at-home-with-ghost-story-so-far-parts-1.html
Part 2 - Do You Believe - Karen A. Einsel
Do you believe in Ghosts? How about the supernatural?
I've
always felt that just because you can't see them doesn't necessarily
mean they don't exist. I have always believed that the spirit stays
with the body for three days after a person dies. Where it goes after
that I'm not sure. I do know I have mixed feelings about it.
My brother Bruce passed away three weeks ago. Since that
time I have had this picture in my head that as they were taking the
gurney through my front hallway, his spirit left his body. I can
picture it so clearly. I see his spirit standing there, watching the
paramedics push the gurney out the front door. Maybe it's my
imagination or just wishful thinking on my part, I don't know. What I
do know is that strange things have been happening ever since.
The morning after Bruce died, as I was lying in bed, I heard
someone (or something) walk through the kitchen into the front
bathroom and yet everyone was still in bed. A few days later, my
sixteen year old son swears he heard the same footsteps and heard
Bruce's door close, but once again, everyone was in bed.
Then there were the chimes of the clock. I was sleeping
so good and the clock started chiming. It was midnight, but the
chimes aren't supposed to ring after 10 p.m. It scared me like it
does when the phone rings in the middle of the night. I jumped out of
bed, because in my mind I believed Bruce was telling me to check and
make sure everyone was alright. I've heard it said that every time a
bell rings another angel gets its wings. Maybe that was the message I
was to receive. Three mornings in a row we have found the freezer
door open. Bruce kept his water jug in there and every morning he
would get up, add more water to it and get a drink. Then there's the
smell of someone smoking a cigarette when I'm home by myself. Bruce
used to sit in his room, watching TV, his window would be open and
the smoke would go out his window and drift in through the kitchen
window.
But I think the real clincher came tonight. I
was sitting at the computer, my oldest son was standing by the
refrigerator, and my youngest son was standing in the dining room,
when all of a sudden the kitchen light came on. No one had touched
the switch. None of us were even near it and yet the light had come
on. Strange? Weird?
And once again I cannot give you an ending :-( I was scanning this story into my printer which is set up in what used to be my brother's bedroom and can not find the other page with the ending that I had written. I have looked high and low and yet there is no sign of it. Karen A. Einsel. Blog: http://differentcornersinmylife.blogspot.com/2011/08/ghosts.html
Part 3 – Grandma – By Rebecca S. Foote
Grandma
I used to sit on the bed and watch my grandmother put on her lipstick. There was a certain care she took when applying it. There was a certain kind of care she took with everything she did. I admired her for that. I still do.
Sitting next to the window as the sun came through, it lit up the bedroom in warmth. Spending time with my grandmother was one of my favorite things to do. She was a small woman, only 4’8”, but she was a giant to me in many ways.
I spent the summer with her when I was young and played in the backyard. We would plant flowers together, kneeling down on the damp dirt in the shade. Later, we sat out on the porch drinking ice tea.
We would talk for hours about different things: what it was like for her growing up, what it was like when she first married grandpa, and the list went on. I loved hearing her stories and spending time with her.
When grandma’s health began to decline, it was a very sad time. She had always been so bright and spunky, loved to take walks and work in her yard. But as her health became worse, bit by bit, she began to slip away.
One day as we were in the kitchen talking, she glanced out the window into the backyard. Her expression revealed that she wanted to tell me something important. She glanced back out the window as if to check on something. I followed her gaze, but saw nothing but the raspberry bushes, thick with berries.
I knew she had something important to say, so I waited quietly. But nothing would have prepared me for what she was about to say.
“I saw grandpa a couple of days ago,” she said, sounding almost far away. For a moment I held my breath, stunned, for grandpa had passed away several years ago. When he died, I cried and cried.
“Grandma…” My voice trailed off weak. She looked at me and nodded.
“I saw him…outside,” she said, glancing once more in the direction of the backyard. “He was standing out there, looking at me. And he was young again.”
I didn’t know what to say. I stood quietly hanging on her every word, feeling my heart squeeze in my chest. Her expression showed she was absolutely certain of what she saw.
She smiled lightly and nodded again. “He was there.”
Comforting her, I wanted to stay near because I was worried about her. After a while the mood lightened and we began to speak of other things: family, pets, and her home. All the while, my mind kept going back to what she had said about my grandpa.
In the coming months, I spent time with grandma whenever I could; worrying about her condition, I always felt guilty that it wasn’t enough.
Eventually, my grandmother’s asthma became too much for her and she passed away. Looking back, I know that my grandfather came to her during her last days. I’m certain without a doubt that there is life beyond death and that it is only a transition into another existence. Our loved ones that have passed before us wait on the other side and check in on us from time to time.
The love we feel goes on and we take it with us after this life. Rebecca S. Foote, Author of In Shadows. www.rebeccasfoote.com
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"Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have
entertained angels unawares."
-
Bible: Hebrews (13:2)
Part 4 – Sleeping - Anon
I was sleeping the morning after hearing my beloved grandmother that I loved dearly had died, when I awoke to a hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw my grandmother. I said, "You can't be here. You are dead go away," because I was so afraid. She dismissed that saying, "It's all right." Then she called me by her pet name for me. "I came to say goodbye" she said, "and to tell you it wasn't your fault." I said I loved her, and she faded before my eyes. I had felt very guilty because my car had broken down, I hadn't been able to go to the out-of-town nursing home my Uncle had moved her to. I tried to dismiss it as a dream, but I knew she had come to me because I needed her to. One day with my dad I mentioned that I had seen her after she died, he said so had he. We then told the story at the same time and found out, she had come to both of us and said the same thing as we had both felt bad about not seeing her before she died. When we had both looked at the time she came to me first then him minutes apart. 10 OCT 2011 - ANON
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"I will not wish thee riches, nor the glow of greatness, but
that wherever thou go some weary heart shall gladden at thy smile, or
shadowed life know sunshine for a while. And so thy path shall be a
track of light, like angels' footsteps passing through the
night."
-
Words on a Church Wall in Upwaltham England
Part 5 - I Knew – By Polly Burns
I knew when my Grandfather died.
I’ve no idea how I knew, but I did. The first I knew of it was waking up one morning in my bed at home, with hot tears rolling down my face. I was fifteen years old. I don’t remember the dream that I must have had, but I knew with a certainty, as sure as I know I am sitting here now, that my Grandfather had died. There was simply no question that I was mistaken. It was a school day, so I got out of bed, dressed for school, and prepared myself for my mother to give me the news. But it never came.
I was puzzled, but told myself that maybe she herself hadn’t yet been informed. My Grandfather was my Dad’s Dad, and as my father no longer lived with us, maybe the news hadn’t yet been passed on. So I went to school, telling my best friend what had happened on the way, and preparing myself to be told when I returned home. But again, it never happened.
So a few days passed, and I told myself that maybe I had been wrong, or that it was a particularly vivid dream that had upset me more than I realised. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. But it was like telling myself that I didn’t live in my house or didn’t attend the school I went to; it just didn’t make sense and I couldn’t reconcile my absolute certainty to the fact that no concrete information was coming my way. I just couldn’t understand it. So a few more days passed but instead of forgetting what I knew, it grew in my mind and became even more important. Clearly the adults around me were not going to keep me informed, so I had to take matters into my own hands.
One afternoon, after school, I asked my sister to come with me for a bike ride round to my father’s house. It was more usual to see him at weekends every now and then, so an unannounced weekday visit was out of the ordinary. But I contrived the visit with only one objective in mind: to provide him with the opportunity to tell me that my Grandfather had died. So we cycled round to his house.
As it happened, my father didn’t tell us what had happened, his wife did. Dad took himself off into the garden, and his wife told us that Grandfather had died two weeks before. My sister, younger than me, cried at the news, but I’d already had a fortnight to digest it and, along with my profound and slightly bizarre sense of relief that I was correct, I was more concerned with why we hadn’t been told before. We’d missed the funeral and had no opportunity to say goodbye to our Grandfather. It was a difficult time, but I never raised it with my father as he was clearly so upset he couldn’t even tell us himself.
I often wonder, though, how long it would have been before we discovered the news if I hadn’t been proactive and gone in search of confirmation of what I already knew. I’ve discussed this with only a few people over the years, and the general consensus of opinion is that Grandfather and I must have been close and that his spirit is with me. A guardian angel, if you like. Whenever I’m in a church or cathedral, I always light a candle for him. Polly Burns2 on Twitter www.caughtwriting.co.uk
Part 6 - Approaching Death – By Cynthia Meyers-Hanson
While our relative was terminal, one night, my aunt and I talked about the signs of approaching death. I revealed to her that my mother had a telephone call from her nurse named Inez. Later, I discovered that it wasn’t a nurse at all; that phantom was her deceased mother. In response to my disclosure about my grandmother visiting, my aunt told me that mom (her sister) told my living grandfather that Fred Astaire was there for a visit, too! My parents were once good dancers; they won many contests in their youth. My mother used to say that one of her criteria for choosing a mate was that he knew how to dance; my father fit that bill. Now, close to forty years later and unable to walk for well over three months, a great but deceased dancer was visiting her bedside. Did Inez call? Did Fred Astaire visit? These things were not as important as what they meant. We believed that my mother was closer to Heaven each day. She would soon be dancing in the clouds with her mother as well as some pretty great entertainers.
During that same conversation, I told my aunt about my recent dream. My vision was so weird! Mom came to me through the passage to her kitchen. Meeting in the doorway, I told her that I’d go get Dad; so he could see her walking- again. She motioned for me NOT to call out for him. Then, she hugged and left me; she was wearing her red nightgown. By the end of my revelation, my aunt was sobbing in dead silence. On the day my mother lost her battle with cancer, when I walked bedside for the last time, I noticed mom was wearing that red gown. That vision was God’s sign that my mother left for Heaven dancing all the way; I am sure. When a soul passes to the other side, I believe that if people look for His signs that God will assure them that all is well with the ‘converting soul-‘ thus enabling the witness’s spirit to feel less grief! Cynthia Meyers-Hanson (Author - Mom’s on the Roof and I Can’t Get Her Down) Blog: http://mchanson714.weebly.com
Part 7 – Haunted – By Cynthia Meyers-Hanson
Mary Ann rang my telephone telling me that the neighbors that lived in my parents’ old house thought it was haunted. Lights came on unexpectedly! I illuminated the possibility informing my friend that the house had faulty wiring- aluminum. Quickly, she explained that the lights coming on was okay because they saved the family from a burglar ‘jimmying’ their front door lock. She wondered aloud if the place was haunted by my deceased parents. As she did, I relived a moment of my childhood remembering when our front porch light saved us while dad was in the hospital. We were about to be victimized; suddenly, a broken light flipped on, and the potential intruder fled. Life seemed to come full circle but I doubted ‘the presence’ at my folks’ place was more than the faulty wiring; I expressed my skepticism to my caller.
Mary Ann interrupted telling me that it was more than the front porch light. It appeared that a kid fell from the top bunk bed but didn’t have one scratch, scrape, or bruise. As I remarked about his good luck, she explained that the child said that Casper caught him midair and gently lowered him to the ground. That boy just saw the movie about that friendly ghost; so his family wasn’t afraid of the house; they were just curious. The new owners of my folks’ last dwelling heard rumors about mom’s death bed predictions; they knew about dad’s fire outside that killed him. My caller filled in the rest of my family’s history giving the new neighbors a copy of my first book, Mom’s on the Roof and I Can’t Get Her Down. However, they really wanted to know if my mom or dad roamed their residence.
I believed that neither parent revisited their home! As I doubted what caused these events, Mary Ann rattled off more news. She spoke so quickly that she missed a fact or two and gave details in random order. It seemed that the hose in the backyard turned itself on once a week; it always happened on Tuesday! Suddenly, I vividly recalled that my dad died on a Tuesday. That hose might have put out my father’s fire if we’d known sooner that he was in mom’s car burning alive. Catching my heart and breath, I inquired as to when that hose phenomena started. When I heard June 1, shock took over my spirit! My friend remembered aloud that dad committed suicide in February. Before she completed her thoughts, I broke in with mine. Inadvertently, I insinuated that my dad was possibly the ghost because he was born on June 1st! Thus, Mary Ann whole heartedly believed that my father was back to rectify his mistake and put a car fire out- every Tuesday! She expressed that his ‘unfinished business’ made his soul tarry at the place.
Swiftly, I pointed out that good and evil did go hand and hand in that house but I had a different theory. After a pause, my idea started to materialize like that phantom did. God did miraculous things in that place, and the Devil can’t stand The Lord’s attention! Satan’s behind this growing urban legend! I believe in the things happening like she described but it was NOT my parents. I expressed, “With God, there is no such thing as ‘unfinished business’ allowing a person to return to haunt and taunt. It IS a spirit but NOT my dad’s soul!” This declaration didn’t mean I doubted the manifestations; my mind NEVER doubted specters existed; I just felt their roots were in Hell.
Stacey, my sibling, wanted to see her old house to decide if our mom or dad created the ruckus. I think, she hoped that they’d arrive in the flesh; so I delayed that visit a few years. When the place went up for sale- a realtor friend, one of Stacey’s friends, she, and I visited that house to say good-bye to all the things unresolved in our minds or our ‘unfinished business.’ I stood in the main rooms avoiding the bedroom and hall that I marched down each day to get mom’s revelations from God before her death. My eyes tried not to recognize the open bathroom door where notes apologizing for dad’s suicide once attached to the mirror. Slowly, I wandered and wondered but the house remained silent because no hoses or lights flipped on. Sensing some of my thoughts, Stacey remarked that it wasn’t June 1st, Tuesday, or dark outside.
She snapped pictures of her childhood home wandering out of sight and into mom’s last resting place. Unexpectedly and suddenly, a blood curdling scream followed by her charging down the hall startled the rest of us. Had the ghost materialized? Reappearing in our midst, Stacey dropped into my arms explaining her tears and fright. She’d just faced her demons- figuratively. She cried,”I miss mom! She’s never coming home, is she?” Tears filled my eyes and heart as I held her erect just like that day at our mom’s funeral as we marched behind the casket. After that haunting shriek, mom finally left the roof top because Stacey finally let go of the house and her hope that our folks would reincarnate or materialize. That day was surreal; this event made it all real. While holding Stacey upright, I came to the conclusion that embellished rumors are how urban legends and even ghost stories flourish. To this day, I believe that these things happen but the source is NOT good or God and can turn evil to quickly, which is why I usually avoid spooky situations. THE END? Cynthia Meyers-Hanson (Author – My ArmOr Blog: http://mchanson714.weebly.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"To err is human: to forgive, divine,
For fools rush in where
angels fear to tread."
-
Alexander Pope
Part 8 - April Fools - Anne LaMonte & Cynthia Meyers-Hanson
It was April Fool’s Day when a doctor looked Anne straight in her eye stating that if her bleeding didn’t stop, she’d be dead by the end of the day. That announcement was not followed by laughter and a clever line about how this hospital visit was all just a bad joke. That would not be funny, anyway! Unbelievable thoughts raced through Anne’s mind as she heard that her fever must break before she could receive a blood transfusion. Without it, there was NOT much hope! This news shook Anne to her soul. She finally heard that her bruising indicated internal bleeding that might kill her.
About three in the afternoon, she heard Father Joe’s shuffle coming down the hallway. Without delay, that priest started anointing his sick parishioner. As his healing hands moved over Anne’s forehead- with God as her witness- her body felt on fire. The tears really flowed through the prayers of this man. Without uttering a word, she remained mystified as he finished his sacramental blessing then left her hospital room. Near the end of his blessing, she stopped crying because Anne felt a comforting “presence.” It lulled her into very sound sleep.
After midnight, as a night nurse took Anne’s vital signs. Because she’d broken her fever, that hospital worker felt that her patient was well enough for a transfusion. Thus, she called a lab technician to draw blood- to be sure; after the test results arrived, that night nurse returned with a huge smile because the internal bleeding had stopped. In fact, there was NO reason for a blood transfusion because Anne totally healed! These women shared a miraculous secret; the patient had undoubtedly received blessings and presents of healing from a Supreme Source. Anne’s condition was good news- God news. They believed in the healing power of God! Anne LaMonte & Cynthia Meyers-Hanson (co-Author – The Presence- The Presents)
Blog: http://mchanson714.weebly.com
Part 9 – Everlasting – By Emerald Barnes
I believe in life everlasting. I believe in Heaven, and I believe in Hell. I believe that you have to repent of your sins and ask God into your life in order to go to Heaven. I believe that Heaven is a beautiful place where we will live forever in glory. Hell is a world of fire, unquenchable thirst, a place where you’re in agony for ages if you end up there.
I
believe in angels and demons. I believe that angels are
real and there to protect us when we need it. I have seen one
watching over me and my sister when we were younger and playing in
our backyard.
I believe that demons are real and are here to destroy what is good. The Bible says that Satan walks the earth like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. I believe that Satan and his demons destroy what is good in everyone’s lives and prey on our fear, worries and beliefs. They try to break us down where we won’t believe that God is with us and protecting us.
I don’t believe in ghosts, mediums, or psychics. I do, however, believe that ghosts or spirits are demons portraying our loved ones who have gone on past to make us doubt God’s word. However, on the other hand, I believe that angels can take on the form of our loved ones to comfort us or protect us when we need it. It’s the difference between a malicious being and one of comfort.
I don’t believe in reincarnation. Once you’re dead. You’re dead. You’re either in Heaven or Hell, and there isn’t any coming back. That’s why I don’t believe in ghosts.
I believe people have gifts in the Spirit. They can heal the sick, know if they can trust people instantly, and know when angels and demons are around. In fact, I can discern when there are demons around, ready to attack. But, I believe that we can stop them. After all, even the demons are under God’s control. They are only fallen angels; they fell from God’s grace when they followed Lucifer when he tried to take control over Heaven.
This is what I believe in. This is what I hold fast to. Emerald Barnes. (Author - Piercing Through the Darkness) Blog: http://ebarnes23.wordpress.com
Part 10 - Legal Guardian – By Stacey Meyers & Cynthia Meyers-Hanson
Stacey started out Cynthia’s niece; she became her legal sister. After their parents’ deaths, Cindy became the child’s legal guardian. As you can imagine, losing two sets of parents made Stacey’s soul angry- especially at God- if there even was one. After a fight about sharing with her new sisters (nearly a daily occurrence for months), Stacey was mad at her new family- especially the parents. She made it her mission to be disruptive; on their first family vacation that included her, that once’ only child’s’ belligerence made her newest father flee while the other adult in the group took control of the situation. Stacey had no choice but to follow her newest mother to a bench at the entrance to their holiday resort. Stacey describes the intervention- assisted by God.
As we awaited a trolley to take us back to our room, a gardener from the complex arrived in our midst. You could hear his lawn mower over the sounds of birds singing and children’s pleasure on the nearby beach. However, his engine halted as he lunged in our direction. In his grasp were four roses that he handed to the girls, their mom, and me. As ‘thank you’ resounded, he rode off too quickly to hear our murmuring. My nose sniffed at the rose in my hand as my youngest sibling pointed out that we all got different colors, and her sister wondered how that guy knew to bring exactly four roses. Plus, there were four ‘distinctly different,’ colored flowers- one in each of our hands. We simultaneously wondered aloud where the four rose bushes were and where he picked our gifts.
Cindy took charge of the explanation. She believed that the gardener must have been sent by Heaven because only God would know to tell him to pick exactly four flowers. He would guide that man to us. Then, He would control just who got each color. As their mom took charge of our enlightenment, Julie began her ‘excitement prance;’ and Jenny’s smile widened. Unavoidably, my eyes made contact with my aunt as my rose still perched under my nose. Her command and rationalization affected all of us. Suddenly, my soul was connecting with hers; I could feel her grief and her joy combined as it surrounded me. My guardian continued to discuss the flowers as well as that man- possibly an angel. She pointed out that I got the yellow rose, which signifies sunshine. Surely, the message was for me to leave my gloom behind and enjoy my new family as well as our vacation. That Devine rose gave me the right to be sunny and warm as she declared that God’s desire was for me to be happy and enjoy my new life. She coached me into believing that it was time to live- again- as she coaxed, “Come out of your gloom of despair!” In that moment, my aunt’s voice swelled like a wave on the shore; in that same instant, a sudden revelation hit my soul. I grew to believe that my rose WAS a gift from God- at my deceased mother’s request. They wanted to show through the color of sunshine that I needed to let light back into my world; I needed to allow myself happiness- again.
While, I meditated on that idea, my newest mother’s other girls demanded explanations for their rose colors. Jenny heard that hers was pink because she was so girly; and pink equates to females. When Julie wondered about her red one, she heard it was a strong color- which related to her athletic abilities. My aunt rambled on until her speech was interrupted by the trolley bell beckoning us to board. When we looked back from the trolley car, the lawns were mowed, the gardening staff retreated, and those mystical rose bushes evaded our view. It seemed incredibly amazing especially after we looked everywhere but could NOT find any bushes to match our flowers.
Meanwhile, being preoccupied with my own misery, often, it slipped my mind that my aunt lost her parents when I did. It was hard to see her suffering when I was so gloomy. However, God recognized the problems my aunt faced while merging me into her family. Thus, the gardener gave her a three colored rose; she held a single flower ‘tie died’ with the colors: yellow, pink, and red. That single rose carried the message that we could all merge into one beautiful whole. Not letting the thorns of its greenery get the better of her spirit, my guardian, an angel of God and Heaven anticipated the possibility of us all becoming one lovely flowering, multicolored rose- as a real family. Cindy believed, which is how we survived the loss of our parents, and her family was able to ‘not just accommodate’ but to ‘assimilate’ me into their unit. Stacey Meyers & Cynthia Meyers-Hanson (co-Author – Stacey’s Song)
Blog: http://mchanson714.weebly.com
Part 11 - Entering Heaven – By Wavie Green & Cynthia Meyers-Hanson
After Wavie’s near fatal, car accident and during her 14 day coma- she stopped short of entering Heaven but her experience brought her closer to God. After dropping in on Hell, the God-directed journey moved her to another scene. Her soul floated in the middle of an ocean still connected to her body and its car wreck injuries. She felt alive even though her mangled condition remained. As she laid face turned upward in this sea of knowledge, her spirit felt one of the lily pads that cradled her body. The place glowed with a special light. Even though she could not see Heaven directly, her soul realized that God stayed at her side guiding all the revelations.
The best way to understand her recollection of the sea near Heaven is to witness a sunset full of radiant colors or envision the glow of light on an object enhancing it to fantasy-like. She witnessed glorious beauty while perched on that lily pad in that water. This place looked crystal clear and perfect beyond this world’s definition of splendor. Great clarity filled the depths of this ocean as well as The Creator’s growing revelations. However, her eyes were partially blinded in the same way a human sees things when looking directly into the sun. When something is back lit, the human eye sees an image. It is incomplete and not in its fullest glory. Therefore, in spite of the clearness of the ocean and the clarity surrounding her, her spirit could not peek directly into the place of The Son or Heaven.
However, through this full journey, Wavie knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God guided all the parables and messages in her testimony. Physically, being enveloped and kept safe in the cradle of the lily pads, this encounter sent absolute contentment through her soul. Wavie depicts the feelings as similar to a warm embrace of another person that is full of love. Picturing a hug from a close relative comes close but not as perfect to the intimacy of Heaven’s touch during this part of her journey to the other realm. She felt enduring love from the Creator while drifting through this part of her afterlife saga. As she witnessed this scene in His World, this lady felt safe while all the parables and lessons swirled in her head. Her spirit accepted that God’s messages would become clearer and make total sense in her future years. In spite of the revelation that she was not fully ready to enter The Kingdom, Wavie felt light and love.
Possibly, her description of Heaven was not fully developed because if you enter into His Kingdom that means your death occurred, and you do not return to this world. In other words, it was a near death experience. Her complete vision was left to the future instead of during her comatose trip. Someday, a fuller more perfect view of the light-filled place would restore this memory, and she’d enter it for an eternity. After her coma and all the related miracles as well as experiences, Wavie believed and hoped for Life Everlasting in God’s House- even though she knew her destiny included returning here to Earth to witness for Her Maker- for a bit longer. THE END? Wavie Green & Cynthia Meyers-Hanson (co-Authors – Through the Storms He Performs)
Blog: http://mchanson714.weebly.com
Part 12 – Inheritance – By Jenny & Julie Hanson with Cynthia Meyers-Hanson
Right before the holidays a year earlier, Joy found out that one of her friends had inherited two cousins. One of the boys was just two weeks old and the other was eighteen-month-old when their single mother died in their apartment of an epileptic seizure. These miracle children survived two days with their deceased parent before authorities found them. Their aunt’s family was not ‘well to do’ but had inherited two cribs for the boys. However, near Christmas that very next year, they needed real beds for these toddlers.
Our neighborhood parents have a cookie swaps once a year during the holidays. The mothers exchange sweets while discussing us; we always wanted to be able to attend. Thus, our girls’ club came up with a reason to be invited to this party. We wanted to sell items using the proceeds to buy at least one bed for the two boys. Nicole’s mother hosted and let us set up a table; there were donations of new jewelry and Christmas items to help with our fund raiser. Also, we provided a flyer of our community services completed. As one guest read that document, she handed us a five-dollar bill whispering to my mother while wondering about our goal to purchase- at least- one bed. That lady decided that we wouldn’t even raise enough for one mattress. Our mom responded, “I believe in miracles! ‘Tis the season!”
After many twists and turns in this story- we delivered our gift of bunk beds to those orphans. Before we left, the oldest told us, “I see the angels! Right there!” Nora, his new mom, explained that he talks about his guardian angels that took care of him. We stood is awe as the youngster relived those two days. The boy made his eyes stay open by using his fingers saying, “When mommy was like this,” the unspoken word was dead, “the angels told me what to do for my brother; they helped me find food- cereal- to feed my brother and me.” In despair, he added, “I found the cereal; I couldn’t do the diapers.” Nora added that miraculously, both boys were clean with no grime related sores when they were checked in to the hospital! After the boy’s description of the scene, he grabbed his, now, toddler brother running away to jump on their beds. Thus, his new mom finished their story. “They took the little guys to the hospital and neither one suffered dehydration or malnutrition! The oldest said it was because of the angels; I believe him!” While listening to Nora, goose bumps took over my skin because I believed this story, too! It makes sense- to last two days unharmed- there must have been angels with them. Meanwhile, we always felt sure our goal to buy those toddlers beds was attainable. Sometimes, you have to help God accomplish miracles instead of just praying and then waiting! Jenny & Julie Hanson with Cynthia Meyers-Hanson (co-Author – The Evans Terrace Girls) Blog: http://mchanson714.weebly.com
More real thoughts and stories from real people coming soon – will some of them be yours?
CONTACT
Patti Roberts: pattiroberts7@gmail.com
Blog: http://paradox-theangelsarehere.blogspot.com/p/free-ebook-publication-your-beliefs.html
Soon to be published in Paperback
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
PATTI ROBERTS was born in Brisbane Australia but soon moved to Darwin in the Northern Territory. Her son Luke was born in 1980. She currently lives in Cairns, Queensland where she is writing the Paradox Series of books. Paradox – The Angels Are Here is the first in the series and was first published as an indie eBook on Smashwords in 2010 and Amazon and CreateSpace (paperback) in 2011.
Publications By Patti Roberts
Paradox – The Angels Are Here
Paradox – Progeny Of Innocence (book 2 in the Paradox Series
Paradox – Special Edition (books 1 and 2)
Paradox – Bound By Blood (book 3 in the Paradox Series) 2012 release.
First 5 Chapters – Vol 1 – 6 Fantasy/Paranormal Authors
Blog: http://theangelsarehere.wordpress.com/