The Making of a Child of Light continues
And so the child who was 'hung up' on the cross with Jesus became an adult searching for her spiritual reality, and finding a place full of confusing memories and dark and often frightening visions - and a huge desire to ignore all of it and pretend to be normal. That feeling still pops up from time to time.
When I was thirty-five my children were fast growing up and my marriage was on the rocks. This was not a major problem for me. I had changed towns the year before and was looking for a direction in life. That is when the Angels decided to show me one.
These days I think there are very few people in the Western world who don't believe in angels. Having twelve of them descend on you in a very small room in the middle of the afternoon would probably be an experience that others would treasure, but it scared the blazes out of me. They came to remind me that I had promised to work with them. They were the Michael, the soldiers of God, and they were not taking no for an answer.
Nowadays I can laugh about it, but at the time it was an awe-inspiring and overwhelming experience. But let me draw you a picture.
Image in a small room, just large enough for a desk, a tall bookcase and a chair between the two; if you leaned back you could lean against the bookcase. There was a tall thin window to the left through which you could observe the 'real' world, and the afternoon sun, and a door closed on the right. I sat at the desk exchanging ghost stories with a friend via emails, and just leisurely chatting. It was about 4.00pm.
One minute everything is fine, and then a sense of 'impendingness' begins to grow. The intensity of the energy in the room goes up, and up, and a growing sense of presence begins to make me very uncomfortable. I stop writing ghost experiences and describe the room and my feelings to my friend, and continued describing the experience as it happened.
I became aware that there were tall people standing around me. My head came only up to their waistbands, or lower. My awareness grew - of big bare feet or wearing sandals. Long strong legs, sometimes hairy, tunics, strong arms, dark hair, round faces, gentle benign eyes. Immense patience. "Are you ready?" They were all around me. "Are you ready?" One on each corner of my 'space' and one between each of those. Four more outwards, twelve in all. "Are you ready?" .. Am I ready for what? No answer.
I wrote all this to my friend and asked his advice. He suggested I say yes. No. I got up and left the room and got the wet laundry and hung it out. "Are you ready?" They were still there.
They followed me through the house, stood with me when I greeted my children home from school, and came back into the 'computer' room when I decided to do something about the situation. Ok, I told them after much thought, I'm ready.
Ready ... softly I was taken out of my body, still aware that my fingers typed the whole experience into the email. In front of me was a huge open hall, with marble floors and columns supporting the roof. The room was not round, but facetted into a circle. There was a column of light in the centre, and all doors led inwards. I became aware that I had walked into the hall myself, through a gate in a creamy coloured stone wall, past tall pillars shaped like Cleopatra's needle that radiated with light and had all the languages of the world streaming across their surfaces. I did not stop to read their message then. In this room there were many people, and many more angels, and mine - this time with wings. I stood with these people, 1001 of them, and listened as we were gently reminded that 'now is the time, and here is the place, and why and what and where' and then I was sent back into my body without the memory of the event, but for the captured moment of the scene in the hall - and the written record of the emails.
After I had grown to accept my angels, I asked the Michael why they did not have wings when they came to collect me. He answered softly, "Ama, the room was too small". Very logical. A week later the computer crashed and it was all gone.
And then my learning, or my remembering began, and all the training I had had in spirit from my early childhood came smoothly in, to remind me of who I am and why I can do what I do, and what I was to show people and teach them - and I have remembered ...
Reminders of Home
When I was the angelic Michael, there was no 'self' only 'us'. There is no individuality in the collective of the guardian angels and protectors. The angels are a group mind with instant communication, each being knowing what everyone else knows. Inside that energy there can only be Truth. But inside the group that was the fallen Michael there was no collective, no sharing of information, and no truth, for each protected only itself - with pure demonic thoughtlessness. And I sat in that energy and gloated over my successes and I did not care even for the leader, Samael, I had so foolishly followed. We hated equally alike. If there could have been a competition to see who harboured the greatest hate, we would have all won. And yet we were loved, and are still loved, by that source of Light that was an irritation to our skin and our confused minds. For the Creator never gives up on its children, even when they have given up on themselves. God watches and it waits and it creates opportunities for change.