Angel Works

BALBOA PRESS

Contents

Illustrations...............................................................viiForeword....................................................................xiiiPreface.....................................................................xvIntroduction................................................................xixChapter 1. Before My Birth..................................................1Chapter 2. The Beginning Years..............................................7Chapter 3. Young Adulthood..................................................20Chapter 4. Children.........................................................30Chapter 5. Marriage.........................................................46Chapter 6. My Therapy.......................................................59Chapter 7. Meeting My Best Friend...........................................68Chapter 8. Hard Times.......................................................70Chapter 9. A New Beginning—Dreams, Desires, Goals.....................83Chapter 10. Hiding Behind My Hands, Afraid To Speak.........................95Chapter 11. My Voice........................................................104Chapter 12. Father's Sickness and Death.....................................110Chapter 13. Meditation Commitments..........................................118Chapter 14. Divinity........................................................129Chapter 15. Praising........................................................155Chapter 16. Angel Speaks....................................................169About the Author............................................................175Index.......................................................................177

Chapter One

Remembrance

I remember being born. I remember feelings, sensations, and movements I made within my mother's womb. I remember feeling her love, the love she had for me, her child—the small, intricate baby girl growing bigger and bigger every day inside the jellylike fluid of the amniotic sac. Oh what a feeling to be able to stretch and swim and move all over within my mother's womb with no worries.

I will never forget the day in late September of 2008 when I felt the love my mother had for me, her unborn child. It all started one night with the moon almost full and a slight breeze in the air. It was a mild fall day, one of those days you just aren't sure what to do: eat, love, pray, or—heck—even all three. Besides, it was just me alone in my house. I could do what I wanted. I loved my freedom.

So there I was, deciding to walk upstairs to my bedroom for my evening meditation. As I walked up the steps, I felt good. I felt a sense of accomplishment, a sense of tranquility, peace, and contentment. I loved my life. I had painted my room, splashing green everywhere. The way the color lay on the walls took me away to other places. It was a soothing color.

That darn crack in the wall. How did that get there? I thought to myself. I need to call maintenance. They take forever sometimes. Oh well, I do what I have to do. I was in my bedroom now, which was not much bigger than a twelve-by-fifteen box. At least I had a full bathroom to shower in and a cute, small walk-in closet. My cathedral ceiling was twelve feet high. A good selling point, I thought—the successful, professional business woman that I was—even though the townhouse I was in at the time was only a rental. Love knows no end.

I sat cross-legged on my bed, looking into the dresser mirror I had held onto from my marriage. I focused on my lit white candle, readying myself for my daily meditation. I use no music—just me, myself, and I with my candle. The candle had come from a friend of mine. It was a blessed candle. She had it blessed in the church she was a part of, and she had also given it her own personal blessing. I had thanked her for that. It was special to me, and I always felt good when lighting it and meditating with it.

This night felt like a special night. I just knew it. I felt it. I could see it. My eyes gazed upon the lit white candle, watching the flame moving from side to side, getting bigger and smaller. I noticed all the ways the flame expanded and grew, gently swaying to the right and then ever so lovingly to the left. There were constant, beautiful changes of this loving energy, this force of light and power that I loved and embraced. I took it all inside me.

My hands lay on my knees, palms up, and I closed my eyes softly, gently, and with care. I breathed in and out, in and out, in and out, going down inside of myself. I first noticed my own quietness and then the quietness around me and my home. Everything felt and was so still. I took another nice breath down within. I saw beautiful colors—purple, yellow, blue, green, violet, red, pink, and orange. The colors of the rainbow, I noticed. Ah, I felt as I soaked them all inside me. I always started in my heart and then progressed down to my root chakra. Then I directed my energy all the way back up and into my head and heart again. I loved my mom. I loved how she read bedtime stories to me and my little sister. It was lovely and comfortable. I enjoyed listening to my mom's voice. It felt good and reminded me of the times when I was in her womb. Yes, I remember the times inside of her, me as a baby growing and being nourished, loved, and cared for. I remember the feeling of the fluid surrounding me like an ocean of waves. I even remember hearing other voices coming from outside of her. Pleasant voices, raised voices, laughter, tears, strength, and anger. Sometimes I heard my mother and a man arguing. I wondered, Is this my dad? I hoped not, but if it was, then it was, and I would be okay. I would know what to do and how to handle myself. I would know how to be and not be.

Suddenly I felt myself going back in time as a small, wee child—a baby. I was inside my mother! I felt me! I saw and realized all of this consciously in my adult body, but at the same time I was also consciously aware of me, the infant child inside of my mother's womb. I felt me, the tiny baby growing. I felt the love my mother had for me. I felt her fluid. I felt the fluid around me, floating around, and I felt safe. I felt comforted. I felt beautiful. I felt good. It was so beautiful to feel all of this as an infant, but it was also beautiful because there I was, an adult, experiencing it and having this memory. I am here. I am free. I love you, Mommy. Thank you for loving me.

As I was in this state of knowing of life, I felt that there was so much going on all of the time all around me, all around us, all around the world. I anxiously awaited my own birth into the physical world. And so I waited with love in my heart, with love I carried in my eyes, my ears, my hands, and all of me for all of you. I lay in peace.

Being Born

It was a hot day in August 1964. The heat outside intensified as the stifling temperatures rose, burning the hairs in my mother nostrils. Blades of the thick green grass were scorched from lack of rain. The air was thick with humidity. I sensed and felt the outside. What intensity of senses I had while I lay inside my mother's womb. It was good and well inside her flesh. The fluid surrounding me protected me, enveloping my body. What comfort I felt, a sense of peace...