Hopeful Messages From the Afterlife
Article Written by Randi G. Fine
As I stated in my article, Is There Life After Death, for many years I have had an insatiable curiosity about the infinitive properties of consciousness. That curiosity has led me to fill my personal library with books written by noted, and in some cases scientifically tested, psychic mediums such as John Edward, James Van Praagh, the late Sylvia Browne, and George Anderson. I have seen three of them, as well as psychic medium Lisa Williams and Brian L. Weiss, M.D., author of Many Lives, Many Masters, speak live and in person. I have had several mediums on my radio show, A Fine Time for Healing, including my fabulous monthly guest Spiritual Medium Laura Lee.
There are several intriguing accounts of the life after life phenomenon in books that I have read such as near death survivors Betty Eade’s Embraced by the Light, and Paul Perry’s Saved by the Light. I have read fascinating, eye opening books written by respected physicians Raymond Moody, M.D., the world’s leading authority in the field of near death experiences, and Elisabeth Kubler Ross, M.D., a pioneer in near death studies. My bibliography could go on and on. My belief is unshakeable.
I preface this article with these references primarily to suggest that my investigation into the life after death phenomenon is fairly extensive. Not only have I read more books than I can recall on this controversial subject matter and witnessed a plethora of evidence through others before my very eyes, I have also had a few undeniable experiences myself.
The phenomenon that I am referring to is not ghostly or ghoulish. Most often these are loving experiences, not frightening ones. Our loved ones on the other side do not want us to be fearful; they come out of a love that is purer than we can ever begin to grasp.
In one of my own experiences, in addition to the messages lovingly meant for me, I was given an important message to pass on to someone else. That “someone else,” the spirit’s parents, were as far removed as one can get from even the tiniest inkling of the concept I was about to share with them.
The dilemma weighed on me. Many questions ran through my mind. “How am I going to deliver this message to those who lacked belief, who I was sure could not conceive of what I was to tell them? Was it cruel to pass this message on to parents who were grieving the finality of the loss of their child? How would I present the difficult but important message that I had been entrusted with? Would they receive it with anger, resentment, pain, or distrust? Would they embrace me as a loving messenger, sink deeper into despair, or never speak to me again?”
I wrestled with these questions for a few days, my conscience torn between the possibility of hurting someone deeply, of appearing like I had lost my mind, and the responsibility I felt to fulfill this loving request from the beyond.
My spiritual friend had gone to great lengths to prove his existence and to assure my belief in his authenticity. Though I wasn’t ready—I could never be prepared for something like that–there was only one acceptable answer to my conundrum. Though I may have not personally understood the importance of his message, I had to trust the sender’s intentions in reaching his loved ones. That would take a giant leap of faith on my part.
To be as effective as possible, I felt that the message delivery must be done face to face with his parents. I conjured up a believable pretense for my need to see them, then I made the telephone call and scheduled a time to visit.
Upon my arrival on the day of the visit, I sat down with his parents on the sofa in their apartment and we had a lovely chat. During the course of the conversation I gently eased into the delivery of the bomb I believed I was about to drop on them. I slowly began revealing the details of my odd but profound experience.
As his mother focused her attention on my words, her eyes got wider and wider. She asked me many questions, trying hard to comprehend the largely inconceivable concept of talking with “dead people.”
I explained that her son, as well as two of her other loved ones who had passed on, were very concerned about her state of mind. They knew, just as I had known, that she had slumped into a long-term depression and given up her will to live. I explained that they had been trying to reach her and get her attention, but had been unable to.
She was surprisingly receptive and open to the news; though I am not sure how much she understood. But that did not matter. She seemed happy with our conversation and I was more than relieved to leave the visit on a high note.
As I share this experience with you today, I wish I could report that this story had a dramatic, earth-shattering ending. I cannot. But maybe somewhere down the line it will, then again maybe it will not. But that is irrelevant. We are all called on to be messengers of sorts many times throughout our lives; sometimes consciously, sometimes not. And messages of hope and love should always prompt a call to duty, no matter how uncomfortable we may find them. We may never know the serendipitous domino effects of our actions and reactions in life. All we can do is trust in these loving messages and act on them as we are asked to.
Our loved ones who have passed on want us to know that they are very much alive and happy. They want us to know that they that they love us and are always with us, so acknowledge their presence. Give them the most beautiful gift you can; let them know that you have moved on with your life and are doing fine. When our loved ones know we are happy, they are at peace.
Our loved ones on the other side know with certainty something that many of us in the physical world remain uncertain of. They know that they will be joyously reunited with us before long, and that there is, without a shadow of a doubt, life after death.
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