DEIRDRE’S STORY OF AWAKENING

When I was very young, my family went camping at Lake Michigan. I was barely three, but already I knew that everything was alive – the trees, the rocks, the moon – same as people.

So, there I was, standing in front of this huge, tall pine tree, and the pine tree was telling me he was my grandfather when, in an instant, in the top branches of my grandfather pine tree, a cloud appeared. Inside of the cloud I saw a pickup truck run over our family’s tent where my baby brother Kirby was sleeping.

I ran to our tent — my legs pushing through sharp grass that was tall against my short legs that wouldn’t go fast enough. I sprinted inside the tent, picked up my baby brother — and just as I got out, a pickup truck drove over our tent.

Through this gigantic… cloud of dust, I heard my mother and father screaming. It wasn’t until the dust settled that my parents saw me, holding my baby brother. My mom and dad grabbed us both up into their arms. “How did Deirdre get Kirby out of the tent?” My God, how did she know?”

Things like this kept happening. I would see something, know something. I do not know how I knew these things, but I did.

“My parents were research scientists in physiology and biochemistry.” One day, when I was around seven, looking through a microscope at my father’s laboratory, I questioned, “If I can see what is invisible through this microscope, then where is the scope that will show you the angels?” The ones I can see but you cannot? The angels would visit me in the early morning hours. They were tall and translucent and white, standing in a circle under the mulberry tree of our back yard. By third grade I was so inspired that I opened my After School Angel School to teach my friends what the angels had taught me.

By Christmastime I became disheartened because my friends refused to believe in angels. So I closed down the After School Angel School. To this day, I still have my angel syllabus notebook, written in red crayon on the last page it says – Angel School closed – they are not ready yet!!!

As I grew older, I stopped being able to see angels. I stopped believing. But I did continue to talk to the trees and the rocks and the clouds, this I kept as a secret. I was going to grow up to be a scientist.

But terminal metastasized breast cancer entered my world and changed everything. Given one year to live, the day my mother came home from the hospital, I threw up. I was turning sixteen. Desperate, I began to pray beside my bedridden mother every night.

Then one night a light filled the room. “Who came in and turned on the light?” my mother exclaimed. I ran around checking all the lamps. They were all turned off. But the bedroom was filled with light. My mother gasped, “my pain is gone.” My mother lived thirteen years longer than medically possible.

At 29, I held my mother in my arms. It was February at daybreak snow beginning to fall. I remembered being seven years old. I almost died because I ate an entire bottle of baby aspirin. I did this because I wanted to go back to heaven and this seemed like the logical course. My mother’s voice in the hospital room brought me out of a coma. But now, while cradling my mother’s limp body I wondered if she would come back to me? My mother left her body. I saw her float out of her body on a ray of white light.

Three days later, in the early morning, my mother appeared to me in a vision. Wearing a white buckskin robe, light emanating from her body, she spoke, “Deirdre no one dies, there is no such thing as death.” She said she was happy and that she would always be with me. However, even in knowing this, nothing could end the enormous grief and emptiness I felt after her departure. My mother was my best friend, my inspiration. She was the only person in my world who believed in my mystical knowledge. Now I was truly alone. Years of depression and sorrow followed.

“The darkness serves the light if you are conscious,” the voice in my head would not stop. I had to find a way to heal. I began my lifelong quest to find an answer to life. A quest to Israel. An initiation on the Ganga River in Varanasi, India. I encountered many gifted teachers, guru’s, rabbi’s, healers and mystics who tutored me on the meaning of life. But it wasn’t until reaching a state of total desperation breaking down that I decided to recite out loud Psalm 91, “Whosoever attaches themselves to the Most High… shall be lifted above the snaring trap…” I recited Psalm 91 one thousand times. Then on a warm spring night that light, the same one that had come into my mother’s room when I was a teenager by her bed, returned again, this time for good, lifting me out of hopelessness and fatigue.

Hovering over my bed for forty nights, the light came, until one morning I became one with the light. My former self gone. I will never forget the ecstatic colors of the morning sun. It was like I was seeing for the very first time. A meadowlark sang outside. I felt an incredible peace. I felt limitless. And I felt love. I was in love with everything. The present moment was infinite.

And, it still is…

My parents were research scientists in physiology and biochemistry. One day, when I was around eight, looking through a microscope at my father’s laboratory, I questioned, “If I can see what is invisible through this microscope, then where is the scope that will show you the angels? The ones I can see but you cannot? I had opened my After School Angel School that year to teach my friends what the angels had taught me. I would visit them in the early morning hours. They were tall and translucent and white, standing in a circle under the mulberry tree of our back yard.

I had to close down the After School Angel School because my friends refused to believe in angels. To this day, I still have my notebook, and written in red crayon on the last page – Angel School closed – they are not ready yet!!!