LET US BEGIN TO HEAL
When spirits communicate with loved ones from beyond, I deliver the messages and go on with my day. Being a medium since 1995 has become a normal existence for me. I can't imagine not doing it. In the past, when I channeled messages from beyond, the other side, the thereafter, or the spirit realm, I didn't get first names. Normally spirits would communicate to me by providing me with imagery of what someone looked like, the color of their hair, imitate someone's laughter or mannerism, but they never gave me a first name. That was how I received messages until February 2016 when I had two referral appointments, a mother and daughter, who I will call Ann and May. When they arrived, I had no idea that they carried a miracle with them that was about to unfold.
With the exception of providing first names, the reading with Ann, the mother, was like readings I have done before. Although, I was a bit frustrated that I couldn't communicate with the one person to whom Ann wanted to speak, her mother, who I will call Teresa. Nonetheless her father was talking up a storm. After thirty minutes into my session with Ann, her mother made an appearance, but refuse to speak. She also refuse to come near me.
It has been my experience that people in the spirit world are careful about how close they come to me for fear I will see too much, know too much, tell too much when they're not ready for information to be shared. I let Ann know that Teresa was nearby, but was not willing to be a part of the communication with her father. Ann explained her family was Catholic and everyone, except for Teresa, went to Mass every week at the church across the street from their home. I believed Ann and accepted Teresa's refusal to come forward was because she was a devout Catholic and did not want to go against her religious beliefs. I didn't want to push or pull on Teresa's energy, so I kept myself opened and continued delivering messages from Ann's father.
Ten minutes before Ann's session was over, Teresa suddenly stepped forward and told me something I did not want to say out loud. I grabbed a piece of paper and quickly wrote down the words Teresa blurted out to me. "Mother had a baby out of wedlock," I presented the note to Ann. Ann's eyes widened and she shook her head. Ann was adamant that the information I had just given her was not true. Ann denied the words her mother asked me to relay.
"This is not your story," I said. "This is your mother's story," I countered.
Ann's session was coming to a close, there was a few minutes left and Teresa was ready to talk. Her story didn't change. Teresa was insistent that she had a child out of wedlock.
"She said she was fourteen, fourteen and a half when she was pregnant."
"I find this hard to believe." Ann replied.
Teresa directed my attention to just outside the windowed door of my reading room. I saw the top of May's head through the door's window.
"She wants to talk to your daughter," I informed Ann and stood up to open the door.
One session was ending and another was beginning seamlessly. Ann and I waved May into my reading room. I gave up my chair for May. We quickly updated May, on what had transpired and then Teresa continued with her story.
"Your grandmother wants you to know what happened to her, so you don't have the guilt and pain she had.
"She had a baby that she had to give up. It wasn't her fault, but she was made to feel guilty, and like a sinner. She was sent away, and then came back."
Teresa was entrusting me to tell her family a secret that she literally took to her grave. An hour ago, I couldn't get a word out of her and now words were pouring from her to me and to her family. I felt the urgency, the pain, and the need to give her a justice that had evaded her, and her child that was taken from her life. As I relayed Teresa's story, Ann and May sat quietly, and then May spoke.
"I had a baby that I gave up for adoption. It's an open adoption," she began. I saw the tears roll from her eyes.
While there was pain, there was peace in her voice. I was in awe of the love that was spanning three generations. Ann's face held the pain, her mother carried, May, held the peace, that was deprived her grandmother, and Teresa delivered the courage needed for future generations. This profound miracle I was blessed to witness, left me in awe.
I had not begun my reading with May, and already I was soaring with gratitude. Teresa, May, and Ann made it emphatically clear to me that our lives and our existence, go beyond the four walls , ceiling and door. I didn't need an explanation for why I was part of this, or how I could do what I do. I was just in the blessing. I had such love and deep compassion for Teresa, her life's journey, the evolution and ascension of her spirit. Looking at Teresa's granddaughter May, I felt the need to help them protect and honor their legacy.
For the rest of the day, I was floating. Teresa taught me a valuable lesson about trusting myself, and to have faith in my gift. I used to be afraid to say what I heard, especially if there was any denial by the receiver. I used to be afraid that people wouldn't believe me, perhaps because I found it hard to believe myself. Doing this work can alienate you, and isolate you. Add to alienation, the side looks people give you, the crosses they make over their bodies when I tell them what I do. Many years ago, I was given, a hat by Shamans, a drum, that was carved from one tree and brought across the county, and sold only to me, and was guided to a Black angel in a Hallmark store, that bore my Native American name. That magical day in my reading room, Teresa taught me how real and good my gifts are. Teresa delivered a miracle not only for her family, but also me, and for that I am eternally grateful.
Since that day, Ann and May have found evidence that confirmed Teresa's story. A week after the reading I received an email from May, thanking me for the readings. In her email, May stated she and her mother, contacted Teresa's high school to find out if she had missed any school. To their surprise the time period Teresa said she was pregnant was the time period that she was missing from school, which would have been when she was around 14 -15. I was grateful for the validation. Just before I began writing this story, I spoke to both Ann and May to help me remember the details of that day. You see, once I channel the message, I let it go. I can remember moments, but not the details of my readings because they are not mine to hold.
When I spoke to Ann, she shared with me another validation about her mother's lost child, who I will call Jay. Ann said she remembered her mother would always sing a particular song. Ann had a feeling that there was a reason why her mother sang that particular song. But it wasn't until after our reading that Ann realized the importance of the song her mother sang. The song was a private message to the son she was force to give up. Ann sent me an email with more validation of Teresa's truth:
Masheri~
Here are the lyrics to the song my mother always sang.....
Frank Sinatra – Dear Little Boy Of Mine Lyrics (Boy of mine, boy of mine, dear little boy of mine)
Boy of mine, boy of mine, although my heart was aching,
I seem to know that you'd want to go,
Pride in your manhood waking,
I'll be here, waiting, dear,
Till at the glad dawn breaking,
I'll hear you say you're home to stay,
Dear little boy of mine (mine), dear little boy of mine. (boy of mine)
(Boy of mine, boy of mine, although my heart was breaking,)
I'll hear you say you're home to stay,
Dear little boy of mine(mine), dear little boy of mine
(dear little boy of mine).
When spirits communicate with loved ones from beyond, I deliver the messages and go on with my day. Being a medium since 1995 has become a normal existence for me. I can't imagine not doing it. In the past, when I channeled messages from beyond, the other side, the thereafter, or the spirit realm, I didn't get first names. Normally spirits would communicate to me by providing me with imagery of what someone looked like, the color of their hair, imitate someone's laughter or mannerism, but they never gave me a first name. That was how I received messages until February 2016 when I had two referral appointments, a mother and daughter, who I will call Ann and May. When they arrived, I had no idea that they carried a miracle with them that was about to unfold.
With the exception of providing first names, the reading with Ann, the mother, was like readings I have done before. Although, I was a bit frustrated that I couldn't communicate with the one person to whom Ann wanted to speak, her mother, who I will call Teresa. Nonetheless her father was talking up a storm. After thirty minutes into my session with Ann, her mother made an appearance, but refuse to speak. She also refuse to come near me.
It has been my experience that people in the spirit world are careful about how close they come to me for fear I will see too much, know too much, tell too much when they're not ready for information to be shared. I let Ann know that Teresa was nearby, but was not willing to be a part of the communication with her father. Ann explained her family was Catholic and everyone, except for Teresa, went to Mass every week at the church across the street from their home. I believed Ann and accepted Teresa's refusal to come forward was because she was a devout Catholic and did not want to go against her religious beliefs. I didn't want to push or pull on Teresa's energy, so I kept myself opened and continued delivering messages from Ann's father.
Ten minutes before Ann's session was over, Teresa suddenly stepped forward and told me something I did not want to say out loud. I grabbed a piece of paper and quickly wrote down the words Teresa blurted out to me. "Mother had a baby out of wedlock," I presented the note to Ann. Ann's eyes widened and she shook her head. Ann was adamant that the information I had just given her was not true. Ann denied the words her mother asked me to relay.
"This is not your story," I said. "This is your mother's story," I countered.
Ann's session was coming to a close, there was a few minutes left and Teresa was ready to talk. Her story didn't change. Teresa was insistent that she had a child out of wedlock.
"She said she was fourteen, fourteen and a half when she was pregnant."
"I find this hard to believe." Ann replied.
Teresa directed my attention to just outside the windowed door of my reading room. I saw the top of May's head through the door's window.
"She wants to talk to your daughter," I informed Ann and stood up to open the door.
One session was ending and another was beginning seamlessly. Ann and I waved May into my reading room. I gave up my chair for May. We quickly updated May, on what had transpired and then Teresa continued with her story.
"Your grandmother wants you to know what happened to her, so you don't have the guilt and pain she had.
"She had a baby that she had to give up. It wasn't her fault, but she was made to feel guilty, and like a sinner. She was sent away, and then came back."
Teresa was entrusting me to tell her family a secret that she literally took to her grave. An hour ago, I couldn't get a word out of her and now words were pouring from her to me and to her family. I felt the urgency, the pain, and the need to give her a justice that had evaded her, and her child that was taken from her life. As I relayed Teresa's story, Ann and May sat quietly, and then May spoke.
"I had a baby that I gave up for adoption. It's an open adoption," she began. I saw the tears roll from her eyes.
While there was pain, there was peace in her voice. I was in awe of the love that was spanning three generations. Ann's face held the pain, her mother carried, May, held the peace, that was deprived her grandmother, and Teresa delivered the courage needed for future generations. This profound miracle I was blessed to witness, left me in awe.
I had not begun my reading with May, and already I was soaring with gratitude. Teresa, May, and Ann made it emphatically clear to me that our lives and our existence, go beyond the four walls , ceiling and door. I didn't need an explanation for why I was part of this, or how I could do what I do. I was just in the blessing. I had such love and deep compassion for Teresa, her life's journey, the evolution and ascension of her spirit. Looking at Teresa's granddaughter May, I felt the need to help them protect and honor their legacy.
For the rest of the day, I was floating. Teresa taught me a valuable lesson about trusting myself, and to have faith in my gift. I used to be afraid to say what I heard, especially if there was any denial by the receiver. I used to be afraid that people wouldn't believe me, perhaps because I found it hard to believe myself. Doing this work can alienate you, and isolate you. Add to alienation, the side looks people give you, the crosses they make over their bodies when I tell them what I do. Many years ago, I was given, a hat by Shamans, a drum, that was carved from one tree and brought across the county, and sold only to me, and was guided to a Black angel in a Hallmark store, that bore my Native American name. That magical day in my reading room, Teresa taught me how real and good my gifts are. Teresa delivered a miracle not only for her family, but also me, and for that I am eternally grateful.
Since that day, Ann and May have found evidence that confirmed Teresa's story. A week after the reading I received an email from May, thanking me for the readings. In her email, May stated she and her mother, contacted Teresa's high school to find out if she had missed any school. To their surprise the time period Teresa said she was pregnant was the time period that she was missing from school, which would have been when she was around 14 -15. I was grateful for the validation. Just before I began writing this story, I spoke to both Ann and May to help me remember the details of that day. You see, once I channel the message, I let it go. I can remember moments, but not the details of my readings because they are not mine to hold.
When I spoke to Ann, she shared with me another validation about her mother's lost child, who I will call Jay. Ann said she remembered her mother would always sing a particular song. Ann had a feeling that there was a reason why her mother sang that particular song. But it wasn't until after our reading that Ann realized the importance of the song her mother sang. The song was a private message to the son she was force to give up. Ann sent me an email with more validation of Teresa's truth:
Masheri~
Here are the lyrics to the song my mother always sang.....
Frank Sinatra – Dear Little Boy Of Mine Lyrics (Boy of mine, boy of mine, dear little boy of mine)
Boy of mine, boy of mine, although my heart was aching,
I seem to know that you'd want to go,
Pride in your manhood waking,
I'll be here, waiting, dear,
Till at the glad dawn breaking,
I'll hear you say you're home to stay,
Dear little boy of mine (mine), dear little boy of mine. (boy of mine)
(Boy of mine, boy of mine, although my heart was breaking,)
I'll hear you say you're home to stay,
Dear little boy of mine(mine), dear little boy of mine
(dear little boy of mine).