Does that crack bleed?


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My 5 year old grandson was observing my 61 year old big toe. He asked me if that big crack  bleeds on the pad of my toe. I just kind of looked at him for a second.

No, it does not bleed.

Does it hurt?

No, it does not hurt.

But, it’s a big crack, Gramma. It’s gotta hurt.

I had to explain that I have old feet. I have walked on these feet for many years. I am usually barefoot. Gramma’s feet have calluses. Places where the skin is harder and sometimes between the soft skin and the hard skin a wrinkle forms.

He couldn’t wrap his head around that explanation.

Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?

No, it doesn’t hurt. Wrinkles don’t hurt, but thanks for caring enough to ask.

 

 

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Today She Wept


I recently started officially working as a spiritual independent contractor again. This after a long hiatus due to the death of my husband in 2013 and then suffering a crushed vertebra in 2015. I had surgery in 2016 on the injured vertebra. Today I sat with no clients, but had been told by Spirit that I would help a woman. I waited. A friend of a fellow healer called and asked if we had a room open so the fellow healer could spend time there. Her husband had died that morning. My new healing room had been her healing room. I told the owner my room was free and I would remove my personal items so the request could be fulfilled in a room the new widow would be comfortable in. Myself and three other healers comforted the new widow, brought in healing energy and the presence of many angels. Today spirit said I would help a woman and I was honored to do so.

Don’t let them write your life for you.


Every now and then Yeshua (Jesus) allows me a view into what his life was really like during his time. He makes comments about how the doctrines and practices shape the belief system of how people perceive his life. Though in fact he does not recognize his life as it is written. He has voiced this complaint to me many times.

Today he lead me out on the internet in a search for the high points in his life as written in the bible and search for parallels in other religions. I was amazed at the results.

Yeshua said, “ They rewrote my life to fit into a particular pattern that would be acceptable to the people. More familiar to the people. There has been criteria that ‘Saviors’ and ‘Messiahs’ have been made to fit into whether it was true or not.  One or two items on the list might actually be true about the person, including me, but the rest of it was borrowed from this criteria list.”

He went on to say, “My life as depicted is not my life. Some of the miracles are intact that are about the healings and exorcisms. Some of the teachings are intact although not complete. Many of these things have been changed or embellished.”

He then stopped talking for a moment and took both my hands and leaned his face down to mine and said, “Write your stories of your life experiences while you are still living. Publish them and get enough copies of it out to the people. Do not let them do to you what they did to me.  Do not let them rewrite who you are and what you did in your life. You need to break the belief pattern, the ‘Savior’ and ‘Messiah’ pattern.”

Then he stressed. “ You need to be remembered as Mother wishes you to be remembered, not how man wishes to create your life for you.”

I looked back at him and stated, “ Well, the pattern breaking has already started off on the right foot then,” I paused as he looked at me and then I continued, “ I am not male.”

 

 

Watch out! An Angel is driving.


Having conversations with my angels and other guardian spirits is not unusual for me, but the other day one stepped into body while I was driving. He was one of my more familiar angels and he liked driving the car with me.

He said, “ I have a story to tell you today.”

“Ok. Go ahead,” I responded while feeling his energy both through me and around me. He was definitely driving today.

“Those like myself help to guide people through their lives. Sometimes it is like when you drive your car. Except in our realm we are the drivers. We have a hold of the steering wheel. We try and guide people thru their life. We help them out and keep them on their path during this time.” He paused for a moment and then went on as I listened.

“Some people have strong egos or are influenced by other people. These are the people who at times need us to grab a hold of the steering wheel firmly to straighten them out.  Sometimes, they fight it so hard that they cause themselves to crash into a wall. A few of them we are able to divert away from the wall before they crash. Others are allowed to crash because they are so set in their path of destruction, it is the only way they are able to change direction and head in the right direction.”

I interrupted here. “What if they do not change direction?”

“Then they are allowed to back up and go forward again and again into that wall until they either get tired, get stuck or get other help by asking for it,” he said. “Sometimes it takes what you call a tow truck to pick them up and move them. That would be a whole group of us.”

I could feel him grin and then suddenly get serious again.

“ Some people we can steer through life using both hands, but a much lighter grip. They pay attention a bit better than others. Some only need to be guided with one hand, but those who bring us great joy and who communicate with us only need one finger on the steering wheel to guide them,” He concluded.

About that time I arrived at my destination and parked the car. I thought about what had been said for a moment and knew he was waiting for the question.

“Which one am I?” I asked.

“You have been all of them. You have improved as time has gone on. It is as it should be.” With this he let go of the steering wheel and the energy of his presence faded. The lesson was over.

 

Chosen Martyr


The first time I studied the Gifts of Spirit, as laid out in the biblical terms, I saw one that I did not want. That gift was the Gift of the Martyr. As time went by Spirit started having me teach classes on this very subject of the Gifts of Spirit. Each time I taught it I would stop at that particular Gift of the Martyr again.

About the third time I ran the class I could feel a Spiritual Presence. I knew this Presence was that of Source, our Creator, who at that time always introduced Herself as to me Mother, the feminine essence of Source and She was now waiting for me to make a decision. Having Mother personally waiting meant something more was expected of me rather than my refusal to accept this particular gift. In the past, in this lifetime, I had said I would accept all gifts that would be given me, but not this one. Now I was being faced with a decision.

“All My gifts are worthy. Why do not you accept this one as well?” my Source asked.

Having it put to me that way, I choose to accept this gift with the commitment of my heart and my soul. Instantly, upon doing so I could feel the energy of Mother flowing down on me as if I were standing beneath a gentle waterfall. The receiving of the gift lasted for several seconds and then Mother’s loving touch ended.

I went on about my work with Spirit for some time after that. Receiving messages from my own past lives on occasion, some who had died as martyrs and many more who did not die this manner, but were willing to take the gift of martyrdom, if necessary, as I understood it.

Recently, I had a vision given to me by Spirit. I only spoke about part of it on my radio show and withheld the other half of which I will speak of here.

I was walking beneath a great arched gate made of massive stones that were rough and yet perfectly fit together without the need of a mortar to hold them. The stones glistened with dampness as moss and mold clung to it.  Small flowering plants of several types I had not seen before grew from within the cracks between the stone. Many bore thorns. Beautiful and yet they could be deadly if handled without respect.

Just as I passed under the gate into a stone courtyard I felt drops of moisture hitting me. I wiped away a few drops that hit me on the arm and noticed it was red and sticky. I smelled it and it smelled of blood. I backed into the courtyard so I would no longer be hit with the drops and looked up. Foolish me, as I looked up my mouth was open and I was hit in the mouth with a drop of blood. I spit it out and cringed. On my belt was a set of binoculars and I pulled them from my waist with one hand to look skyward and determine what it was that was losing blood from such heights. There affixed to a hook near the top of a massive stonewall under which the gateway ran were the disembodied bearded, long haired heads of men who had the unfortunate end to their life by beheading.

I lower the binoculars dropped them to the ground and felt in my arms a small baby stirring. I looked at this child and noticed there were drops of blood upon its face as well.

I knew that this was a significant vision and called out to Source for it’s meaning.

“My child,” She answered, “ you have been a martyr in many lifetimes and so you shall be in this life. There is more meaning to this Gift than what people think. Not only is the Gift sometimes meant that one is to die for a reason of belief, but the most important meaning of being a martyr is to spend one’s life in service of Me. It does not always mean one is put to physical death, but brought into a rich Spiritual life while still living and bring others into that life as well.  The child represents the future generations who also will take up this life.”

With that said, the child disappeared and I turned to walk across the courtyard to a group of men and women sitting on benches around an old wooden rough hewn table. They were dressed in the robes of the ancient ones, from a time long ago. The men had long beards and the both the men and women appeared to be common people. No fancy decorations or jewelry were evident.

One man spoke to me as I approached them.

“It is good to see you again,” he said.

I did not specifically recognize either him or anyone else although there was the feeling of familiarity was about them.

I could feel Yeshua’s presence within me. “Yeshua,” I asked, “ are these people from your time and do you know them?”

Yeshua whispered, “They are from our time and yes, we know them”

There the vision ended.