If you'd asked me 30 years earlier, where I'd be today, my answer would've been nothing compared to the story I'm about to tell.
As a young teenager, I was one my Mom would say, I thought I knew it all. I had all the answers, or so I thought. I always had to have the last word; I thrived on being a great debater. I loved to be challenged, always wanted to be right and I'd question any and all things. I had an outgoing/strong personality and I got along with mostly everyone I'd come in contact with. An Uncle called me a tomboy. I'd navigate toward the boys and doing what they did. I'd climb trees; I played the drums through school. I took a wood burning class and small engines, class. I loved playing touch football with the fellas and I played on the softball team. I was a pro at handball. I was your all around rough and tough girl with a sweet personality.
When I was 13, my Grandfather came to stay with us. My Grandfather had been a preacher in the Baptist church for longer than I'd been alive. This was the beginning of my journey.
One day Mom came to me and told me that I needed to wash my Grandfather's feet. I was horrified and didn't want to do it. Touch another person's feet? How disgusting is that?? Not able to tell my mother no, I got the pan, filled it with water and began to wash my Grandfather's feet. To my surprise, he was happier than words could say. I saw the joy in his face and I realized that what I was doing wasn't that bad after all. I embraced the feeling I got from seeing him happy. I began to talk to him about the afterlife. I asked him how we're to know if one of our loved ones made it to heaven if they can't ever come back and tell us? He didn't have an answer but thought my question was a good one. I then said, "Pop, when you make it to heaven, can you come back and give me a sign that you made it"? He told me he would and then he laid hands on my head and prayed and asked God for a blessing on my soul. My Grandfather passed away a few months later.
As my life went on, I grew up, transforming myself from a tomboy into a young lady. Nineteen now, I'm home alone. I go into the kitchen, reach for the light but before I could hit the switch, I see my Grandfather sitting at the kitchen table as an Angel. All white, glowing, with huge wings. I was scared out of my mind and quickly switched on the light. That was my sign that my Grandfather made it into heaven. He'd fulfilled his promise to me.
In the years that followed, I'd see visions of my Grandfather a few times. I began to think he was my guardian angel. I'd see him during times in my life when I was going through something and needed reassurance that everything would be all right.
Growing older, I began to notice things were happening to me that I couldn't explain. I felt like the Lord was pulling at my coat strings. I felt that there was something He wanted me to do with my life or in this lifetime, but I didn't know what that was and I always felt, I wasn't ready. In my mind, I would run from the Lord. If he reached out, I'd pull back. The fear of the unknown had me gripped and I couldn't allow myself to move forward. I'd see things I couldn't explain. I'd have premonitions that would come to pass. I'd feel things I couldn't explain and all that was enough to fear God when he'd reach out to me. Whatever He wanted of me, I didn't feel I could do.
I became good at running while God remained persistent in chasing. It got to a point where I finally confided in my Mother, telling her that I feel that God wants me to do something, I just don't know what it is. I told her I feel He's pulling at me; trying to tell me something but I'm just not ready.
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One day while visiting my parents, I went to Sunday service with them. The service was awesome and everyone could feel the presence of the Lord in the church. Being the skeptic I am, when it came to watching folks feel the Holy Spirit inside and watching folks dance around the church because the Lord touched them, I thought it was all hogwash and figured people were just putting on a show. That is until it happened to me. Standing next to my Mother, the Lord touched my soul and my body jerked, my hands flew up and my mouth let out the words, "thank you, Father, praise the Lord". I did that twice, back to back. Not knowing what had just happened to me, as I was going through the motions, I began to cry. Not me? How could this be happening to me? How is this possible? This kind of thing doesn't happen to me? I later realized that what I'd been seeing others do, was actually real and that the Lord was touching their soul as He did mine. I began to wonder, why me? I asked myself, what does God want with me? I don't know anything. I'm not a Bible scholar, I don't attend church every Sunday, nor do I go to Sunday school. What on earth could God want with me?
As the years passed, God seemed to leave me be. I got to a point where I felt I no longer needed to run; that I could chill and go on with my life. Every now and then, I'd see what I call a spirit but after seeing my Grandfather, I wasn't afraid. I'd accepted that something was "different" within me, that I had some sort of "gift" to see and feel things that other people couldn't. I accepted that I had dreams that I couldn't explain. I was okay with that. I was okay as long as I didn't feel God tugging at my coattail but in the back of my mind, I knew God was preparing me for something.
When I met my husband Jay, things for me began to change. I began to once again feel the Spirit of the Lord tugging at my coattail. My husband, a spiritual person himself, I felt I could confide in him what I'd been going through, pretty much all my life. After telling him my story, he immediately gave me clarity. He told me that my Grandfather placing "hands" on me was his way of asking God for a blessing on my life, to which I'd received. I knew of preachers placing hands on people and asking for this or that but I was never a believer that any of that stuff was true. Seeing it on TV was where I got most of that conclusion from but I'd seen it in a few churches and seen the same thing happen. I didn't believe any of it.
Jay and I would converse anytime I had a dream, a strong feeling or if I saw a spirit. Jay became my lifeline into the world I'd only walked in alone. Sure, I'd share my visions with my Mother but I felt that even though she believed I'd seen my Grandfather and other things, that in the back of her mind, I always felt she thought I was a little "touched" for lack of a better word. Touched in the sense of not crazy but heading in that direction. I never felt the confirmation from my Mother that I did with Jay, that indeed, I had something from God, a gift.
I believe that having Jay in my life, I felt a sense of security. I felt I could talk to him about anything I was going through spiritually and he'd be there for me, to protect me. Now I know that only God can do that in the spiritual sense but I looked at my husband and still do, as the head of my household, the Father to my son and the King of my castle. He's my provider and he gives me that sense of security I need to face the unknown. He's there to tell me that everything will be all right. To confirm or dispel what I've been thinking, to give input and clarity to my confusion, and to open the Bible and show me verses that fit whatever I may be going through at the time. He's a comfort to me when I'm scared, and he's my best friend. Armed with my partner, I felt I could face the unknown so I finally made the decision to tell God, I was ready. Ready for whatever He wanted me to do. I got down on my knees one day and prayed like I never prayed before. In my mind, I opened my heart and soul to the Lord and said Father, I'm ready. Bless me with whatever it is you'll have me do.
Running no more, my life began to change spiritually. I found myself always feeling the Holy Spirit inside me; always reminding me that He's there with me. I began to write when I felt the urge to write. My urges would always be strong and it was almost like, I would be physically there writing but my mind would be elsewhere. Kind of like an out-of-body experience. It would feel like it wasn't me writing and I knew that my words were guided by God.
One day I didn't feel well. I went to see my doctor who made me stay home for three days. I found that a bit odd, I didn't think I was "sick", I was just a tad under the weather and feeling kind of tired. No reason to stay home. The next day, I felt the presence of the Lord in my home. Now that's a powerful feeling but I felt that the Lord came in and was there with me.
I started to read this Christian book I get in the mail and as I opened it, I saw a picture of a man standing in front of an open door. Instantly, I knew I had to write. I got my paper and pen and I wrote "The Open Door". As I was writing, I'd get interrupted with the timer on my stove going off, I'd take care of the dinner I was cooking and come right back and pick up where I'd left off. I was focused. The Lord was with me. After I finished writing, I'd later go back and read what I'd written and I was blown away that I wrote it. That's when I realized that it was the Lord speaking through me. There was only one sentence rewrite in the entire thing and that was amazing to me. It showed me just how focused I was and that the Lord didn't allow anything to distract me from my mission. My mind was on pause while I handled what I needed to in the kitchen.
When Jay came home that day, I read him "The Open Door". He was amazed at the writing and that it came from me. He said something that blew me out the water. He told me that he felt that God had something to do with the doctor making me stay home for three days and that he believed that God was there with me in the apartment that day. Excited, I told him I felt that same way and couldn't believe he felt that way as well. He said, "that's a blessing, that the Lord came in and spent the day with you"! He said, "I'm jealous. God was here, spending the entire day with you and I wasn't here".
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My father passed away and that was an emotional time for everyone. While at the hospital, I got the chance to see him after he was gone. In his hospital room, I spoke to him in my head while I rubbed his shoulder. My mother and brother were standing on the other side of Dad; Mom crying, while my brother tried to console her. My focus wasn't on them but on my thoughts to my Dad. I wondered if he could hear me telling him I loved him. All of a sudden, I found my head turning and I felt another out of body experience. I looked up to were my head stopped and saw my Father. He was blurry but it was him. He spoke to my mind and said, "Cin, take care of your Mother". That's all I heard and as my brother called my name and snapped me out of it; I turned to him and lost the connection I had with my father. I immediately said, "not yet, I'm communicating with Daddy", but Daddy never returned to me. Unbelievable you say? Yep, think of how I feel. I know what I did, my head turning without my making it turn and my seeing my father and hearing him speak to my mind. Yes, that's hard to believe but it happened.
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One night in a deep sleep, I had a dream. In my dream, an Angel came into my bedroom. At the bottom of my bed, the Angel sat and across the Angel's lap, I see myself laying there. In the Angels left hand was a paint bucket. I see the paint is blood red and I know its blood. In his right hand, I see him take the paint brush out the bucket of blood and he swiped it across my calf. When the Angel did that, I could actually feel it in the human sense and it woke me up because my body jerked when the blood was swiped across my leg. What a dream and to actually feel it while it's happening! Yes, a dream but one I believe is all connected to what God has in store for my life. Am I marked by the blood of the lamb? Am I protected? Am I chosen?
As life went on, I found myself counseling people about their life situations. I found that my words to them were comforting and I'd always connect them to God's word. I recall in the beginning, I'd pray that God directs my words that they'd be within the realm of whatever He wanted me to convey. I believe that what comes out of my mouth is directed by God and I am humbly blessed to be able to help another through Him.
Driving to work one day, I thought about my father. I've always wanted something to happen in my life where I could finally convince my mother that I am blessed and that I'm not "touched", so I began to pray. I prayed that God allows me the opportunity to speak to my father so that I could communicate something from him to my mother. Immediately, I had another out of body experience and even though I was driving, I was not present.
I instantly saw a small window and in my mind, I began calling "Daaaddy, Daaaddy", then I saw him. He wasn't himself but I knew it was him because he responded to the name. His figure was that of a pencil sketch. Zigzag lines from top to bottom. As he recognized my voice, I could see him turn to me in a surprising way. We made contact and before I knew it, he was at the window where my eyes were. It was kind of like looking through one of those toy viewfinders we had as kids. I was surprised that he just "appeared" so quickly from where I saw him, to right in front of my eyes. In my mind, I said, "Daddy, tell me what you want me to do so that I can communicate to mommy from you". Immediately, I saw his tombstone and I knew I had to go there. My vision was gone but I knew I had to make a trip to the cemetery, not knowing why or what would happen once I got there.
I haven't had any more experiences with my father and I've been to his grave site twice since, but in my mind, that was Dad's way of telling me something, communicating to my mind that this is what he wanted me to do and I listened. Maybe something will happen in my future that's connected to that initial visit, who knows. What I do know is that what I experience is a blessing and a gift from God. I know that I am chosen to do something. I believe that God is still working on me; preparing me for something big to happen. I get confirmation all the time when the Holy Spirit stirs within me on something I'm either thinking about, writing about, doing or speaking. When the Lord stirs and I feel His presence, I know that I'm on track and am doing His will. As I've written this, He's given me confirmation that it's okay to write and share. I let His will be done - always.
As I prepare to enter into the second chapter of my life, I look upon it with excitement. I know God has my life written out exactly how He wants it to be and as He takes me through my chapters, I will continue to let my soul be exposed to any and all He has in store for me.
Cindy Reed
Written in 2013
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