Family, Gift, Guardian Angel, Heaven

Visiting

My experience with spirit has given me a greater respect for the healing sessions that I am called upon to engage in with others. There are times that I am told the back story of a person that has passed and in that there is laughter through tears. There are also times when I am rocked to the core with what is seen and said and it can stop me short.

It was yesterday that I was asked what it is that I do. “I am a Medium,” was my reply. The volunteer coordinator said that she never expected to hear that at all. “Who does that and why or when did you decide to start this?” she asked. We all have this gift, each and everyone of us but there are some that are more aware. We use intuition in our daily lives and yet there are times when we know but we don’t know how we know. Visitations in dreams of our loved one that have passed are mediumistic with this lucidity. As a child I thought you could see what I could see. I was accused of being a daydreamer and quite good at it. It made me miserable though with the night time terror of being watched. Oh if only someone had told me that it was okay and that spirit was meant to comfort me and not create fear. Explaining to this woman that I honed this gift through life experiences and trauma that I was able to stand in this inner strength and knowing. Using my motto, “I want to heal people with healing messages” summed it up.

I have met many people and when we meet it is as strangers and when I leave the session it is as a friend where we hug. Truly I love the looks on people when they gain a “AHA” moment and you know impact has been made. If you are reading this and have received messages through me I thank you. I thank you for entrusting me in something so private and so loved as I delve in your personal space. So much gratitude that I extend.

Gail

Family, Gift, Guardian Angel, Heaven, Letters to Heaven, Love, Loved Ones, Medium

1986

The phone rings. It is the girlfriend. Not mine personally. This one is yours. The hospital bed is available here near where I live. It will be yours to live in for the next month. “When will you be down to visit?” she asks. “I am on my way now.” I state.

The bus takes me to the south side of town. Actually it was a number of buses to get to my destination. So long to wait for it to pick me up, to travel through the city, to get off and wait again. Truly impatient to get to your bedside. My throat is closing, my mind is racing, my heart…is breaking.

The building is the University Hospital. It is night when I come through the doors and state my business to the information desk. They tell me what floor you are on. Up the old elevator, out those doors and down the hallway to your room. It is semi dark in there, like an old time noir film. The nurse is behind the curtain that surrounds your bed with you. I wait until she is done. There is another person here. The girlfriend. Told to not take too long by her. That you require rest.

Isn’t that what you have been doing this past year? I don’t understand. I was told a year ago that you had suffered a stroke and there wasn’t anything I could do. But asked not to visit. I was a single woman with a toddler and no means to travel to the town where you were. So there it is.

The curtain opens. The nurse is gentle with me. She takes my hand and brings me to your side and tells me to talk to you. “He may hear you it’s just that he cannot respond.” she states. “The stroke was massive.” They both stare at me while I look down on you. Having a hard time to process all what is happening. Another nurse comes in and she shows me your feet, that they are turning in. I don’t see what they see. That you going into a fetal position. They are explaining that you will soon go. That your time is near and for me to prepare.

This I remember. I stand at the foot of your bed and try to memorize your feet. They look like mine. Not the dainty feet my mother has but the knobby toes that I would be teased about. My gaze takes me to your face. It is not the face of my animated father but someone else. You don’t appear to be there. You are sleeping. The machines are making you breathe. It is too much for one person to bare. If I ever felt more alone it is now with everyone staring at me. I leave and go home.

My visits to your bedside are frequent but kept to a minimum when the girlfriend is there. It is a feeling on her part, like you are not to be shared. I don’t get it. There is no one to fully support me on this end. Not the new boyfriend. He likes to party. How fully he was into it I did not comprehend. So naive to that way. His friend and him used my space to have their fun and I let them. All that noise if you will dimmed the hurt that was invading my soul.

The call came after 2:35 am. You had passed. My heart broke. You know that feeling. We all share that. The quiet dead in our body. The standing still in our mind. Nothing. I don’t recall anything after that. I do know that time takes care of all the details. There is work to be done. Where are you to be buried. How to get you to High Prairie, AB? The minute details with the funeral director here in Edmonton.

At this time days after I am beholden to strangers for a ride to your home town a few hours away. I take Colin with me. My boyfriend. The baby is kept by my aunt while we are gone for two nights. I am not me. Does this make sense to anyone? I am here but I am not. It is out of body. We arrive at a distant cousin home. Their last name is Cunningham. I am being introduced to people who I have no memory of but they do indeed remember me. I get a lot of, “I knew you when you were this small.” They kept remarking that I resembled my dad. It was so strange. I knew they cared but it felt so foreign. So thrust out in the spotlight.

Feb 28, 1986 It is cold this night. I am impatient to see you. It is the wake and I am seated next to your sister Margaret. She has taken her place next to me. She is my rock, my support. Where did she come from? This is all a blur. The small room is dark and very quiet with the roomful of people. I don’t know what to expect. All I want to do is to run up to your casket. My aunt takes my hand. We walk up to you. You are dressed in your army uniform. Wearing your medals. I say to my aunt, “I was promised those medals” Telling me not to worry that she will make sure that I will get them before he is buried. She does indeed keep her promise. I sit down and cry.

March 1, 1986 Oh it is cold. Biting cold. I stand by the hearse and wait. I stand alone, feet away from you by the back door of the dark green vehicle staring into the back window. Finally they open the door and presently bring you to your graveside. Standing next to you I want to once again hold you in my arms, to tell you how much you were loved by me. That winter day bites into my legs. I am handed a package. It is your medals.

There is the standard luncheon soon after and there are many people brought to my table. Long lost relatives I was kept away from by my mother. They tell me stories about you dad. Still I sit there and it is almost that I cannot hear them. There is white noise in my head. The close relatives we stayed with overnight decide to go to the local bar. There is a country jam and I cannot comprehend that we just buried you and you want to what? go to a bar?? Because we are beholden to these people for a ride back to the house, we go.

The locals in this town all seem to know one another. They know each other’s business for the good and the bad of that. I listen to the gossip, some funny stories some sad and disturbing. I have that respectful demeanor happening right now. So timid. So afraid. One after another many acts come on the stage and it is the last that breaks me. He is a gapped tooth man. The town drunk I am told. Straggly hair tucked into a baseball cap. He saunters onto the stage. It is as if the crowd hold their breathe. And then he sings, “Honey, honey, honey won’t you open that door, this is your sweet baby, don’t you love me anymore, honey won’t you open that door?” But he presents it in a humorous manner that everyone breaks our laughing. Even me. I let loose, laughing loudly. My aunt smiles at me. I cry and laugh. Even through tears I laugh. It is that release, that sweet release I needed.

Dad it is Feb 2, 2019, almost 33 years since you passed on Feb 23, 1986 at 2:37 am. I miss you like crazy. Like now as I write this. I may have you energetically but it is not the same. I want to feel your hugs. Your kisses. The tug of your fingers on my nose as you try to pull it off. Those funny things that daddies do that love their little girls.

P.S. The image of this watch that belonged to my father was worn by me for close to a year when it suddenly stopped on the anniversary of his death, date and time. I woke the next morning and put it on and then seen the time. It has been that way since then.

#333 #Dreams #Visit

Family, Gift, Guardian Angel, Love, Loved Ones

The Last Time

I am in the hospital and giving birth to you. I have made the decision  to give you up for adoption. It is by far the hardest thing ever for me to do this but it is the right thing. I have nowhere to go. There is no support. None.

I lay on a stretcher in a quiet room and it is now after the pushing, the noise in the birthing room. I ache. I cry. I lay there and think, “What now?” Have the nurses forgotten me? After a time I am wheeled into a four bed room and the nurses pull the curtain around me for privacy. I cry some more. I hear the other three mothers talking quietly among themselves as they feed their babies. I am to stay here for a week to convalesce. I do what I want and I ask for my child. The nurses ask me if this is a good thing for me to do. I want to hold my daughter in my arms. To remember her sweetness. If I do not do this I know that not doing it will kill me. She is brought to me and still the curtain surrounds my bed with us two in there. A cocoon. I feel safe with her. When I leave I will have nowhere to go. But for now I am safe with her. I stare at her fingers. Her eyelids and I noticed a long blood vessel and I try to memorize what it looks like. This will be the identifying feature when I go searching for her. This is the plan. She is such a good babe. I rarely hear her cry. She is with me almost 24/7. The staff is concerned. The welfare worker is concerned. I tell them not to worry. I will give the baby up for adoption. I will not change my mind. They are concerned for my welfare though. I lie to them. All is well I say to them. All is well. The days pass and I know the countdown comes. I cry when she is not with me. I cry out loud one night that one of the mothers from the other bed comes to me and hugs me tight. I sob more now. A dam that has been broken. I ask her to leave. I will be okay. I am already grieving my girl. Danielle Lise.

The worker comes with the long document and carefully goes through it me to make sure I understand it. I understand more than she knows. I know that Danielle’s parents are in the building waiting. Hoping. Scared that I will change my mind. I am resolute. I will not. I do not. I sign the paper. I have written my baby a letter and it is attached to the document. This document I will not see again until Danielle turns 18. The childish writing of a skinny, scared girl not knowing where she will go in the world. I spend the last hour with my girl and my heart breaks. It breaks. Shatters. Then she is gone. It is fast. The signing of the paper and so soon they take her. She is no longer mine. But I know in my heart she has gone to her mom, the woman who will teach her to love, to know joy, to watch her grow. I cannot think about that anymore as I dress and walk out of the hospital into the day.aha-moment-insight

Gift, Guardian Angel, Higher Self, Intuition, Medium, Thankful

Dancing Rainbow Woman

He asked, “Why are you here? I looked at you and seen you are healed.” I had been asked this question by a elder, Stuart Brown in 2013 and was with a group that had been invited to see this healer. I joined them because I was curious. My answer popped out of my lips. “I would like my name” I say.  He then prepared a ceremony for me. I gave him his tobacco. I was calm and at peace. After a time he told me my name, “Dancing Rainbow Woman.” He then gave me counsel. What an honor. I felt complete.

To see ceremony opened my eyes to the spiritual realm of our people. I had always considered a healer to be such as this man but I do know that healing comes in different aspects. My way would be through the messages that would come through me to client. Being told that I would be healer caught me off guard and I didn’t equate it with what my mind desired. My mind said you will lay hands on people. To make connections with spirit is what my heart desired and then it was so. I consider my life blessed and thank Creator with so much gratitude and for the people either teachers or students that have come in my life. Not everyone get’s to stay that long in your lifetime. Some stay a short time as in my instance with this elder who gave me so much with empowerment and a sense of self and also guidance. For this, I give heartfelt thanks.floating_feather_by_shadowlight_oak

Adventures, Family, Gift, Guardian Angel, Higher Self, Intuition, Loved Ones, Medium, Slightly Burnt

Guide Me

There have been times in my life where I knew not where I was going. One minute I found myself wondering how I came to be here on earth. And I asked myself why? Happy times spent as a family unit and then thrust into isolation without mother and father. Is isolation time spent with aunts and uncles? With grandparents? You know what I talk about when I say the love is different. They care about you but not on that level as you do when you love the smell of your dad and his smiles and silly talk. I knew my family cared about me but I felt so lonely growing up. That small girl who no one explained to, “Hey, we got to take care of business so we can live, you know! But we’ll be back for sure!” This was also the time of my first sexual assault as a very young child with no one to run to.

My first guide in my life besides my father was my maternal grandmother, Julia. I loved her with all my being. Totally. She died 3 days after my third birthday. One minute she was there, the next gone. It ripped me. My grandfather was desolate. He was to go shortly after, a few years but still. It has been said that the ages between 0-3 are the years that a child is nurtured and learns security, love, comfort, confidence and making choices. Thank goodness for grandma. Where would I be without her.

The years pass by me and it’s all learning as this girl doesn’t listen. Too much control going on with parental units in the way of my mother and my stepfather. Maybe I did listen to them when I was young but I grew headstrong and did what I wanted. After all did I not have the freedom to do that when I was with my aunts and uncles and roaming the countryside. I had so much trouble happening in my head and not having direction was to run away time and time again. I left home at 16 as I had a job and lived with my brother for a time. I became pregnant at 17 and left school. My one saving grace, school. I blossomed there. I excelled under the guidance of my psychology teacher, Mr. Bianchini and the art teacher, Mr. Zipp. I understood the mechanics of the mind and gained high marks for that. Mr. Zipp seen a spark in me and I was to become the class model for those years in that big old high school. Mr. Bianchini asked me why I wasn’t returning to his class the last year and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that there and now that I was pregnant. I wasn’t brave enough. Would my life been different then the path I decided to take and follow my choices. I do not know. I had the child but did not attain the mother of year award. My parents stepped in and took him. After a time they adopted him. My heart broke. It broke into a million pieces. It sounds cliche. I was to have no contact with him. None. This is the way they wanted it.

I became homeless. Depressed. I discovered there was another side to life that knowing now would never, ever enter. Ever. I stole to eat. Raiding gardens, going into stores and stuffing a bag with whatever I could get. That time was not a good time but I was not to stay in that space for long. Entering into relationships hoping for security and receiving nothing gave me disappointment. Finding a house to live in with five other young people my age was to present huge parties. Not a stable life. But it was so much fun back then. And then it wasn’t. There were problems and once again I was homeless. I persevered. I moved for a time with my friends and found a job. Good old 7-11.

Time passes and in that air I have two more children and one to give up for adoption as this was the time I was living on the streets, sleeping on friends couches. Aimless. The third child I took courage and wanted more out of life. My father was still alive and came to see us in the hospital. I so loved this memory. My father was to pass on my son’s 3rd birthday year. Abusive relationship were to follow for me. My self esteem in shatters. There had been no time to grieve any thing that had passed. No time to grieve the son that was taken, the daughter I gave up for adoption and then my father. No. Time. To. Grieve. But I did find the courage and strength to overcome that man. That man that yelled and hurled abuse on me. I was to find a letter the other day of him writing from jail. How he was so sorry for hitting me. I have no memory of that. Absolutely no memory. He was very graphic and gave so many details but nothing sparked in my memory banks. Now is that a saving grace. I say yes to that. I had to find this guidance on my own and crawl out of that hole.

Life does indeed go on and sometimes at a snail’s pace and sometimes in light streaming down the road. I have had trauma, but also joy mixed in with mine. It has not all been bad. There was the joy of having my children. The happiness of my heart seeing my 3rd child grow. It has all been an experience and for this life class I have been in to be used for people that are going through the same thing. It amazes me with the gift that I had had and how it came in handy for me through the younger days. It got me through so many good times too. I just didn’t know what it was.

I sit here in the morning sun and thank god for all that have some into my life to make in into what it is today. All those experiences that have made me a strong, confident, empowered woman. The guides now are spiritual and some earth based as in my friends or my tribe as I like to call them. They are all my touch stone. They ground me. I know that I am in safe hands. I know there is more for me out there and I can hardly wait!!

Adventures, Author, Creative, Family, Gift, Guardian Angel, Heaven, Higher Self

It Just Got Better!

Who knew that my life would amplify? Well it has. Since I have embraced my purpose and put all the love behind it my life has changed exponentially!! I am finally on my path but it did take all those experiences good and bad to get me where I am and to help the people that sit before me in sessions. There are many stories to tell and they truly stand out. Five o’clock wake up time by Spirit as she tells me, “I was invited!” This was the day of a psychic party and as I entered the hostesses kitchen with people sitting around the table remarked about this 5 o’clock wake up call. I carefully described the lady in question to all and then I had a person laugh out loud and say to all, “That’s my Mom!”

Spirit comes in tippy toes or as loud as they were when they were alive. They show me vignettes of their lives, here and there, past and present. Strong attributes come through or memories made to mention. The healing messages do follow, some small and some long as I dictate or scribble down so fast. They also have there own messages to deliver as I have had people present there questions and they come up with something entirely different or they just answer. I never know what it is that I will channel through a session.

So let’s go back to how afraid I was of what I had when I was younger. I overcame that fear and got to where I am now. The anxiety that came as a side has lessened and I express gratitude to all the people that guided me, the workshops and especially my dear auntie. She has brought my family love to me and made me grow like you don’t know!

Gift, Guardian Angel, Intuition, Love, Medium, Psychic

Who Knew..

Who knew that when I let go all would work out to be the way it is. Let it Be. I look back on the fear that permeated my being by saying no to encouraging my growth. Being stuck in Anxietyville was the only thing I knew and believe it or not felt safe. To go beyond meant facing something that I could not endure in that space and time. I look now on the peace and freedom my life brings me and I shake my head at those fear based thoughts. Look at me all tied in knots, afraid of her own shadow and bites the hearts of those that would reach out with her harsh words to keep them at bay. Yes, I was that person. “Give me my space!” I demanded. Did anyone have a clue what I was going through. Man, I was a mess. Hahahaha. If I could I would go up to the former Gail and say, “Hey slow down, give yourself a break, do not give into the demands of life and go easy on yourself. Know that the Universe has your back.”

Five years ago or maybe more I was encouraged to attend class for psychic development. Omg, my mind went south to heck in a hand basket. Ego decided to hitch a ride and give it to me full blast. “You do not have what it takes, you will fail. It will be too much work. You are not intuitive, quit kidding yourself.” Yes, this was my cheerleading section in my mind. Ego was having a party and I was the only attendee. Slowly I came around with baby steps and being in a relationship at that time had a bit of encouragement to try it out. More and more I came out of my shell. Made new friends, trusted them with my heart and talked of things that interested me and they knew what I was going through. This was my tribe. I had finally found them.  This tribe consisted of women that had similar stories to mine. They had seen stuff happen around them that no other could see. They day dreamed a lot. Too much so that they were accused of living in another world. To be accused of being a liar crushes a young person’s spirit and deny’s them there truth. Know this.

Today you will see a vibrant, empowered, say it like it is, take charge of my own life kind of woman. Meditation is what centered me. Starting that off was such an endurance test but I passed it. Having made attempts to try it but not finishing a session only made me want to overcome it. Instead of pushing myself to sit in silence for 15 minutes I then went on Youtube and found a great guided meditation by Naomi Nonu-Carling called “Angel Contact” and started off with a minute. I came out of that psyched and ready to move on to add more minutes. So in one day I meditated for a whole hour, again starting off with that one golden minute. Today when I have a session with a client I actually bring them into meditation for a minute or three to show them how easy it is, starting with breathe. Telling them to push out those thoughts with your breathe. Steady one’s mind. Surprised looks are the norm when they come out and how it took for minutes to go by.

If I can do anything to help a person go beyond where they are now and if this is through a reading then I have fulfilled my purpose.