Archive for the ‘Precognition’ Category

Anthony’s Message (Part 2)

Saturday, December 29th, 2012

The Accidental MediumThis is the continuing story of Anthony’s Message. If you missed it, Part 1 is here.

We arrive at the front entrance to the church.
And I remember it’s Palm Sunday. I had no idea there are baptisms slated for this morning. The church is packed. Lots of kids.  Standing room only.  Many families and friends are gathered here from our village, in from the surrounding rural countryside and up from the big city to celebrate new life and the future ahead for these beautiful newborns.  They represent hope and promise for all of us.

I enjoy the ritual of the church service, the quiet hour that gives us permission to be present, the sense of community it brings out.  Our Minister, Gisele, has become a good family friend. She knows about our active household, and is an insightful observer as Matilda, Kate and I – the Indigo Girls – have our adventures in Spirit.

Gisele doesn’t doubt our experiences. We’ve sat together many times over tea to try and figure them out – look at the messages, discuss the lessons.  I’ve often wondered how Gisele reconciles her knowledge of us with what the church teaches.  Gisele grew up Catholic, but became a United Church Minister and now regularly attends Buddhist retreats.  She’s open, non-judgmental.

I remember last year at this time, it was Easter Sunday Communion Service.  Gisele was in the pulpit.  As she surveyed the congregation she had iterated another one of the church tenets “We come into this world alone, we leave this world alone.”  Her gaze had fallen on my husband and I. We’d gazed back at her, both of us smiling.

I personally don’t believe we come into this world alone.
Or leave it alone. We are never alone – before we come into this world, on our life’s journey or as we depart.  We are infinitely supported on our path by loved ones and loving beings.  I see this. I KNOW this.  This is my experience.

I’d already nudged my Better Half, muttering mischievously in his ear “Yeah. Right. That really happens.”  He continued looking  forward to the pulpit, nodding with a chuckle, while squeezing my hand.

As we left the church service that day a year ago, we give Gisele a big hug at the front entrance.  Gisele is shaking her head, laughing at the inside joke.  “And as I finish with ‘We leave this world alone’ I see the two of you smiling back at me.  I’m thinking, ‘WHAT am I SAYING???’ I know YOU two don’t believe ANY of this! How could you possibly?”

Fast forward to the present day. Today’s service is longer than usual. We’ve got four little beings to welcome into the community. No time for a sermon.  Will there be time for a community prayer?  The beautiful babies are blessed and paraded around the church.  Gisele finishes the baptism ritual and then asks the congregation if anyone would like to include someone in the community prayer.  I surprise myself. I start speaking.

“The family of Anthony McColl”, I call out without hesitation

Gisele asks me from the front of the church, “Laurie, can you repeat Anthony’s last name?”

“McColl. Anthony is only 19.  He was killed by an impaired driver on Friday night.”

There is a palpable hush in the congregation. 
I’ve just reminded every parent of their worst nightmare. New beginnings joyfully commemorated here are abruptly juxtaposed with a too sudden ending.  I now know why I was tested this morning – told to speak up.  To remind all of us gathered.  Life is fragile.  Hug your children.  Celebrate every day.

We leave the church and grab a quick bite in the village before heading home to pack up appetizer trays for the next event.  I’m hustling. The spring rolls need to be fried. They’ve turned rubbery over-nighting in the fridge and must be revived. Everything is finally plated and garnished. I rush upstairs to pee, and put some lipstick on.

I’m fixing my hair. Dad’s there in his usual spot. He says, “Good Job, Putty.”

Dad’s not talking about the completed plates of sushi. It’s about my speaking up in church.  Dad adds, simply, “Anthony is a 5”.

I stop in mid brush stroke. “Oh My God.  This makes sense!”

Here’s the thing.
Three days before Anthony’s death I’ve had a session with friends who are energy workers.  I know my hip problem is really “issue in the tissue”. I wanted to dig deeper into those unhelpful beliefs before my surgeon digs deep into my hip so I’d set up a session with my friends Rita and Thomas.

As part of the session, Thomas, who is a medical intuitive, had asked me, “Would you like to know where you are on your soul’s progression?”

My immediate gut response was, “Well, not as much as I want to deal with the issues going on now in this life. To be honest, I want to pull out the subconscious beliefs that are causing my hips to disintegrate. But I guess it would be interesting to understand where I am in the scheme of things – although I don’t think it matters. You are where you are, right?”

Thomas laughed. “Well, that’s right. But I can give you a quick overview of it if you like.”

I agreed to the synopsis.

Thomas continued. “There is a channeled system that helps you understand why things are the way they are.  It’s a system that helps you see where you are on your Soul’s Progression.  It talks about the Soul’s Path – and the system is based on a range from 1 to 5.

The 1’s are basically soul babies. They are naïve, have so much to learn. Fives are old souls. They’ve chosen to come back, they don’t need to be here.  Their job is simple, to enjoy the physical world in all its manifestations, and shine their light by being their true selves. They are really here to activate souls in the other ranges: their light helps to uncover hidden divine gifts and uncover buried parts of the authentic self in those souls they touch during their lifetime.  In a way, it’s a bit of a joy ride being a 5 – both literally and figuratively.

“Well, now I know”, I said half-jokingly. “I’m definitely not an old soul! I’m coming back because I have to! ”

Thomas laughed.  “Well, you’re a mature soul. ”

I’m fine with that. This soul’s path was interesting info but it didn’t seem relevant to me at the time. It’s like being the youngest sibling, or having green eyes. I didn’t “do” anything. It just is.

But now it makes sense.  
Anthony is a 5.  I know why I was supposed to hear what Thomas had to say about the subject.  I needed that piece of the puzzle to understand Anthony’s divine role in this lifetime.  Anthony was here to activate, to shine his light.

Dad continues, “Just look at Anthony’s life.”

I don’t know Anthony that well but we called him “The Gentle Giant”.  He didn’t seem afraid to embrace life, and he did it in so many ways. Rugby, art, music, laughter, hugs.  He was kind, responsible, non-judgmental.  He made it clear he loved his family, he loved his friends. He was true to himself, he focused on what he loved, and he made people feel good about themselves.  How many souls has he activated in his lifetime? The outpouring of grief over his passing has rippled out in waves. His story is touching possibly thousands of people who never knew him.  It’s truly awe-inspiring.

Dad nudges me, “This is what I’ve been telling you, Putty.  Your brain, your intellect, is important, but it’s overrated. Get into your physical body. Feel its intelligence.  Listen to its messages – It will tell you what you are meant to do and not. Trust its guidance and you won’t get stuck on your path.  You are meant to laugh, have fun, make love, dance, create! And stop! Take more time to do nothing. Just allow yourself to receive. Go out and smell your cedar trees. Listen to your birds.  Feel the breeze on your face.  Get out of your head, Honey.  Follow your heart. Enjoy this physical life, in all its manifestations. You know this.”

I nod. I know this. But I’ve been holding back. We live in a left brain world.  Adhering to the tenets of popular culture is greatly rewarded. A book learning education holds the highest value.  Busyness gets a badge of honor.  Tapping into your unique inner knowledge? Swimming against society’s current to follow your soul’s inspiration?  Not so much.

I’m a strong swimmer. In spite of my hips.  It’s time to trust myself, and swim upstream.

Dad says, “Matilda is a 5, too.”

I have a momentary shiver.
Of course. That’s why Anthony would go to her first.  I wonder if that means she’s going to check out of this earthly plane early too? She’s already had two critical scrapes, the first she turned blue and couldn’t breathe, the second, her heart stopped.  She’s only four.

Dad is reading my mind. “Love your children, Honey. The mess doesn’t matter in the long run. Creating memories does.”  His words are reassuring. I get the distinct feeling Matilda won’t even consider taking off to the higher planes until she makes a big impact in this world.  Like Anthony.

When I come downstairs, my husband is already loading kids and platters into the car. It’s a rainy day.  I buckle up, still mulling over what Dad said upstairs.  As we drive down the highway, I talk to Anthony inside my head. “If it’s really you Anthony, I need a sign. A distinct sign.”

Outside my head, we are talking about the “to do list”.  It’s never ending. My husband is gone so much of the time.  It’s hard to split household duties.  He’s taking care of the business, so I take care of the rest  – the kids, the cars, the accounts, the events, the schools lunches, the bus runs, the homework, and managing the house and the home office fall to me.  When he’s away, we talk twice, maybe three times a day on the phone.  Since the girls don’t always sleep well at night, I get exhausted and quickly fall into overwhelm.  I rely on my husband to help us focus on our priorities.

My husband talks above the radio music in the car. He wants to know how my work is going.  He’s my biggest supporter.  He wants me to block out more time to develop my new online business education program.  He knows I have a lot to offer. I’m thinking about what Dad just said: It’s time to step into my life, get out of my head, make my dreams happen.  My husband is saying the same thing. It’s time to shine my light on my business.

It’s hard to shift. I’m thinking of all the things I’m responsible for. So many trails of unfinished personal business. I clean up a lot of messes.  So many loose ends to be tied.   Another loose end dawns on me. I haven’t bought any gifts for the teachers for year end.

“What are we going to give Deb?” I question the family for ideas.

Deb has been Kate’s and now Matilda’s teacher. She’s greatly loved.  Deb should be paid much more for her work. But she loves what she does.  It’s not just about the money. She’s truly dedicated, passionate about child development, and committed to the well being of her flock. And the kids adore her right back. Deb is part of Kate and Matilda’s extended family. Whatever gift we give has to be special.

We’re at the Silent Auction chatting with parents,
The kids play in the corners.  There’s lots of items to bid on. We don’t need anything.  I tell my group of friends, “There are some lovely pieces of art here, but we don’t have any walls to put them on at our house. I hope you can bid on them.”

My friends are pointing out their favorite pieces when a parent organizer comes up. “Ladies, you need to buy raffle tickets to win the oil painting of the school.”

I didn’t notice we’d been standing right beside the raffle prize. It’s a brightly colored primitive oil painting of the little red brick schoolhouse, including kids and playground.  It’s very sweet. I don’t have a wall to put it on. But I buy a pack of five tickets for $5 to support the cause.

The other ladies are excited about this painting. It’s special. It captures the wonder of our co-op pre-school.  I wish I had gone to this school when I was little. I think a lot of parents wish the same thing. Lots of tickets are being sold.

As I stand there holding my tickets, a voice whispers very clearly into my left ear. “You are going to win this.” The tone is very matter-of-fact. It continues,  “But you need to buy another set of tickets.”

- With thanks to Spirit for infinite return.

(Story to be continued in Anthony’s Message – Part 3….)


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