FOREWORD | REVIEWS | EVENTS | MEDIA ROOM | NEWS RELEASE | ENDORSEMENTS |
FOREWORD | REVIEWS | EVENTS | MEDIA ROOM | NEWS RELEASE | ENDORSEMENTS |
Romancing the Soul-- True Stories of Soul Mates from around the World and Beyond Compiled and Edited by Dorothy Thompson Published by Zumaya Publications |
ISBN: 1-55410-095-X |
EXCERPT: |
My Spirit's Beloved by Janice Romney Farnsworth Drifting into a sleepless wonder, the nights magic air cast its spell on me. Crossing the threshold of a sacred chamber, wherein the angels of love untie heart and soul, I felt the fire of my heart burn with a love so rare. Mesmerized by dancing candlelight, I was in another dimension, a garden of dreams, where the sounds of music played in a higher octave, and I felt the presence of my beloved. By morning light I lay in a bed of fever, spellbound and in mystic wonder. Confused by this vision I was uncertain. My dream was vivid; even though I could not see his face, I felt his presence, and yet it was only a dream. Several nights later, once again he was with me. Not a word was spoken, just two beating hearts hushed by the silence, then love began to speak. Soothing waves of love flowed through me and I felt healing rays of light comforting my soul. In awe I would awake. In disbelief I would make my way throughout the day, longing to return to this other place, to feel a love so tender and a love so rare. Yet I was left to wonder and to question, "What is happening to me?" The world around me no longer felt real, and I felt separated as though a part of me had transcended into another dimension. With each passing day, my longing grew deeper. Each night I wanted to dance the night away in rhythm with the stars, and in a poetic sway feel his hand in mine. My soul yearned to wake in that same bed of fever, a sacred fire, or a fusion of eternal love. I was in love with a faceless man. A man who did not exist except in my dreams. Each night thereafter, I prayed that he would once again return to me, but for many nights he didn't. Then mysteriously sometime later, my prayer was answered. I was in a room and I could vividly see the tile flooring, the kitchen cupboards and the fireplace. This was the home of a man I had never meet before and yet we felt a deep love move between us, silencing the world around us, for nothing else existed, except our love for one other. Several nights passed and I had the same dream again, but this time I awoke before morning light, and I felt the presence of spiritual beings. Their love was magnificent and of a magnitude that it trembles the earth and shakes the mighty mountains. A whispering voice stood by my bedside, infusing my heart with knowledge of another time. Dimmed from years of separation this sacred love had reignited my soul and I could not deny it. "You have known him for all time," she so softy whispered so low that I wasn't sure she had spoken at all. Frightened by my feelings, I felt I needed more time to be alone to heal and rediscover the woman child in me. I needed to set her free. Reason told me that this was a time in my life that I shouldn't be searching for someone to love. I had yet to feel whole again after a 15 year violent and terribly unhappy marriage and I was afraid of losing what I had gained. So much had been washed away over the years, but this was a love that found me, a powerful force, unseen and yet undeniably purified from earth stain. This love existed in the deepest portion of my being as though it had always been there, yet it is a love I cannot explain. To give life to each word that attempts its description can betray what only the heart is wise enough to understand. For weeks I lived in a world where poets touch the heart of those who listen, and paint the world with breathless moments of ecstasy, and I felt powerless to change this mysterious course. I was a ship lost at sea, guided fearlessly through dense fog and raging waters where two hearts were one, drawing nearer to their eternal source of life giving life. What I alone could not understand, God made sure someone else would enter my life when I needed the answers. In this I believe Spirit works in mysterious ways. During this time I went to visit a wise and spiritually gifted teacher who had a message for me. She said, "Janice, soon you will be reunited with a man who has always loved you." My first thought was to ask her, "How did you know about my dreams?" But I didn't say anything other than to respond with, "You mean someone like my soul mate?" She answered me, "Oh no my dear, this one goes much deeper than that. He is your twin flame." She went on to explain that he had promised before God and the Angels that he would be here on earth with me. Patiently he would wait until my soul had reached a certain level of understanding and awareness and when the time came, he would enter my life. Where was he? Did he live close by? How would we ever find one another? Did he know about me? I was reassured that the moment we met, he would know, his soul would tell him. Still it seemed impossible. Being the doubter that I am, I decided it was up to me, I would have to find him, yet a voice simply whispered in my heart, "You are to do nothing, Janice, let it just happen." I wept oceans of tears that day, and tears continued to blur my vision as I drove 300 miles home again, but they were tears of joy and thanksgiving. I felt my soul's rejoicing knowing that my spiritual journey was now taking flight. In solemn humility, I gave thanks to God and to His endearing and loving angels who had been with me, who had rescued my soul from the earth's cold grave before completing its most sacred mission. I so much wanted to shout to the world. I wanted to share my hearts deepest feelings, but they were sacred messages from Heaven and not everyone would understand. Once again I was to learn patience. But what is patience? Patience was something I had yet to experience or at least to master. Besides, patience always seemed to be a fool's word to me. Those who are patient miss out in life, and if I didn't do something, my beloved and I would simply be two ships passing silently in the night. I had no idea where to start looking and where I lived was as remote and distant from any possible romantic encounter that I almost lost faith in divine intervention or at the very least in cupid's magic. Several months later, my mother asked me to join her and my sisters for a Christmas holiday in Utah. My children had plans to stay with their father, and so I would be alone in my small, red brick home on Christmas Eve. My answer was no. A strong intuitive feeling just let me know that I wouldn't be alone. It wasn't too much later when a loving messenger came to me one night in early December, just weeks before my children would be leaving for Arizona, and told me that the time was drawing closer, but that I was to be patient. "Don't interfere once you know his name," she said. "The time must be right." Then one afternoon I was styling Aunt Marene's hair. She really wasn't my aunt, but I felt close to her. I rode horses with her sons and often had dinner with them in the evenings. Casually she mentioned her nephew who happened to be single. She said, "I would love to introduce you to him, but I KNOW he's not interested in raising six children." I thought, that's fine. I always knew a divorced mother with six children might not appeal to most men. "Besides," she said, "Richard is flying to California in a few weeks to meet some woman who knows his sister." My heart stopped beating. I literally froze. That name sent an electrical charge through me that left me weak in the knees. I was breathless. That same feeling came over me, the one I felt in my dreams. Then I panicked. "What do you mean, he is flying off to California to meet some strange woman?" And I really was demanding an answer from her. Aunt Marene didn't bat an eyelash, "Why shouldn't he?" she asked. "Because he belongs to me!" I shouted. I put down the comb, told her I had to leave and I rushed out of the room. In a panic I thought, what am I do to? What if he falls head over heels in love with this woman and marries her? I was completely beside myself, and yet I felt helpless. Then I had an idea. I threw caution to the wind, completely turned a deaf ear to the angel's warnings, and took matters in my own hands. I just couldn't leave something this important in the hands of someone I couldn't see.... Later that night I called Jay, Aunt Marene's son, who also happens to be Richard's cousin. I wasn't helpless after all. Innocently, without trying to sound desperate, I asked Jay to set me up with his cousin. I silenced the little annoying warnings that crept into my heart, and kindly told the angels to mind their own businessI wasn't about to take any chances. Richard could marry this other woman before we ever met. It was up to me, at least that's what I said to myself. Jay didn't hesitate. He told me he would call Richard that night. Sitting on pins and needles, I had to wait several hours for Jay to call me back. I didn't want him to know how frantic I was, so I remained inside my home, acting calm and patient (I can do that although sometimes it isn't easy). Finally, Jay called me back. He reached Richard that night, who was living in Tucson, Arizona, and he was quite proud of himself. He said he did a real good job selling the idea of meeting me (due to that fact that I was also a mother of six children) to his cousin. In fact, he said, he did such a good job that Richard actually sounded really interested. Little did Jay know he was bringing together a match made in heaven and his skills didn't have anything to do with it. Jay said something a little strange though. He told Richard he would have to wait until Sunday to call me. That was SEVEN DAYS, approximately 336 hours away. For a minute I was furious with Jay. I thought that was such a dumb thing for him to say and now I was still going to have to wait. But for the next seven days, not quite 336 hours because I'm sure he slept during some of that time, Richard thought about me. He couldn't stop thinking about me. Something about my name and the way he felt captivated his heart and he anxiously looked forward to the time he had said he would call. I counted the days and the hours and the minutes until the hour he was to call me. Finally the hour arrived. The clock on my mantle said it was 4:00 o'clock. Calmly I sat by the telephone waiting to hear it ring. I waited and I waited, but the phone didn't ring. Then it dawned on methere was an hour difference between my hometown and Richard's, I still had one more hour to go. Normally Sunday afternoons were peaceful at my home. The kids were usually tired and either watched TV or took a nap. Today was different. I just know Justin could feel it in the air. His mom was waiting for another man to call her. That didn't go over too well for him and so he started complaining. Then he started fighting with anyone who would fight back. He had everyone in an uproar; that's when he really started irritating me. I was waiting for the most important phone call of my life and my son was acting like a spoiled two-year-old. The phone rang. Justin grabbed it and I knew he wasn't' going to let me talk to Richard. I threatened him with his life if he didn't hand over that receiver. First he played a little game. He said he was going to hang up and I was praying that Richard couldn't hear us on the other end. Finally Justin gave me the phone, but he wasn't going to give up that easy. I had to ask Richard to hold on while I went to find Rob. Rob is bigger than Justin and I knew that if anyone could drag Justin outside and sit on him until I was finished, Rob could and Rob was only too happy to obey. Acting like a bully, Rob made things worse as he grabbed Justin by the ankles dragging him outside. I was dying of sheer embarrassment while trying to cover up the receiver with my hand so that Richard couldn't hear what was going on. Then while Justin was outside in the yard screaming at Robby to get off him, I was huddled in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet seat with the water running and the door closed, trying to calm my nerves while softly speaking to Richard as if nothing was happening outside. I knew he heard the chaos, but he didn't let on. His voice was soothing, loving, kind and gentle with a wonderful sense of humor. I melted into a puddle of emotions sitting on that toilet seat. We made our plans that afternoon. I was to take my children to Mesa on December 21st to drop them off at their dad's home; then I was to spend the night at a friend's house and return to Tucson by noon the following day. Early that morning I woke to heaven's melody, my soul's love song, feeling happier than I had ever felt before and I dressed with care. There was an inner glow about me that spoke to me of inner-beauty. At that moment, I was a winter's bride in glistening snow waiting to take the hand of her beloved, to stand before God and the Angels in remembrance of sacred vows made long ago. Actually there wasn't snow on the ground since we were in Arizona, and I wasn't betrothed to anyone; yet in silence I listened to the whisperings of my soul, and I knew where my journey would soon take me. Just off the freeway, as you first enter Tucson's city limits, is a MacDonald's. Richard said to stop there and call him. He lived just minutes away and said he would meet me there. Nervously I pulled into the parking lot wondering if Richard was already there. Of course, if he were, would we recognize each other? I didn't have a clue, I just remembering shaking like a leaf. The telephone was inside by the restrooms. Timidly I walked up knowing that I had to call him, and I couldn't chicken out, but I was so nervous. I went into the bathroom, stared at the face in the mirror and couldn't help but wonder: am I still pretty enough? Nervously I left the bathroom and stood by the pay phone, hours could have passed or even just minutes, but I know I stood there for a long time, still I didn't dare dial his number. That's when a stranger walked up to me, looking right at me, and he started to speak. For a moment my heart stopped. If this is him, I thought to myself, I'm running. I wasn't the least bit interested in the looks of this quaint little stranger. With a blank look on my face I asked him if was there waiting to meet someone and he said, "No, but I would like to use the phone, so if you're not going to call anyone, would you please move out of the way?" Relief washed over me as I nervously laughed and said, "Thank God you're not Richard." That's when I found the courage to call him. He couldn't look any worse than that quaint little stranger. His voice, and I still love to hear his voice today, was quick to answer. I told him I would be waiting outside the front door of MacDonald's. I thought I would die a thousand deaths before he got there, then all of a sudden he was there. Instantly he recognized me. He knew my mother and he said I looked just like her. I don't know that I saw his face. I was still so nervous that I hardly said a word, but I do remember following behind him in my car. Over a dusty, unpaved road, I sped to keep up with him. From a distance I saw a shadow of a spirit embodied in a man I had never met before, but my heart was in love with his soul, and for a moment I felt suffocated in my body. I wanted to soar through the air, above the blue yonder and return home again with my beloved. Two stars created from a flame of light fell to the earth years ago each vowing to find each other, and this was that day, and my heart rejoiced. Still, life had given me many hard lessons and my body felt it and I was still trying to grasp the strangeness of this whole situation. His face wasn't familiar at all, and yet I loved him long before we met and a part of me was frightened. I wanted to turn my car around and drive across the desert and disappear into the fading sunset. Then I thought, no, I'll stop and sit in the hot, scorching sun until reason returns. That shouldn't take long; even in December the desert is hot in mid afternoon. I was willing to ask anyone who would listen, even if my only audience was a prairie dog, if they thought I was a fool allowing my heart to feel again, to love and to trust again? The moment I walked through his doors, I knew I had been there before. What I saw was a little different from my dream, but the feeling was one of familiarity, one of being home. We talked for hours, not as strangers, but as one in heart and spirit, separated not by choice, but by what had to be. When I looked into his eyes, the windows to his soul, I knew I had no secrets from him. He KNEW me, he really knew me! Years of pain dimmed, a heart scorched and withered felt renewed, alive and so filled with joy. I felt myself wanting to reach out, grab him, love him or curse him for making me go through life without him. "Where have you been?" my heart screamed over and over. Part of me was angry with him, but I loved him. I had no doubt. Then my head would begin to reason and I couldn't believe my own feelings. Soon darkness covered the earth like a thick blanket and yet even in the shadows, I felt his light. Softly my eyes drank in each line on his face, mesmerized by his smile and captivated by the way his eyes warmed my soul. I didn't want to move from where we were sitting, as if that would awaken me from my dream. In his presence, I felt at home. Curled up on his couch, I was where I belonged. I had finally come home, and sharing my heart with him reminded me of a burning fire warming the soul from the chilling winter's wind. "Dear God," I silently prayed, "please be with me." No one remarries after a year and a half of being single. No one remarries after they have six children by another man and expects anyone else to help raise them. No one says "I do," before they are even asked. No one agrees to say "I do," even if they are asked hours after they first meet, and no one remarries when they carry wounds from the past inside their hearts and yet many do, but do they make it? Thousands of unanswered questions raced through my mind. But my greatest fear was this, can a new marriage survive me and my children? For a moment I prayed that he would just love me, if even for a night. We dressed for dinner. He said he was taking me out, even though I don't know why. My heart was dancing the tango, my stomach was filled with butterflies and my head was spinning with too many questions; but I was lost in love. We drove to "Red Lobster" and went inside. Amazingly he couldn't stop touching some part of me. My hand, as if he weren't really sure, my back, as if to guide each step I took, but it was his gentleness with which he spoke that endeared me closer to his heart. But I did have to silence my laugher. He seemed as giddy as I. Yet we weren't young teen-agers on our first date. We were both older, divorced and experienced; yet why did we seem even more vulnerable than young lovers blinded by romance and lust? I hardly touched my food. It's just that way for me when I'm nervous. With my fork I simply shift my food from one side of my plate to the other. That night, the waitresses were getting ready to close the restaurant. Not once from the moment we met did his eyes lose sight of mine, and not once did the feeling go away that he knew what I knew. I had no doubt. Finally, after talking straight through dinner, I was hungry, but by then my food was cold and the waitress had cleared our table. It was time to go home and that's when the little heart flutterings started all over again. We were going home where we would be alone. Richard wanted to know everything about me and my past. I even told him about my children. I know what I said affected him, but he didn't run. As we talked I couldn't tell him enough. It was the sharing that I longed for, just to talk to him was healing and somehow he was part of my past. He felt my pain and I was in awe with his compassion. Our journey in life had been different as night and day, and yet similar. Once I was a battered wife, his ex-wife had many faces and sometimes she was violent. There was a parallel of different experiences that bonded us together, and yet he was not wounded. His soul remained untouched. What he experienced gave him understanding and compassion, but he remained strong and resilient, and yet I knew that he would have to be if he were to live with me. When the hour was becoming early morning, it was time to go to sleep. I stayed in his guest room upstairs and yet felt close to him between floors and through closed doors. The next morning we were making plans. It felt wonderful to wake knowing I was there with him. As I look back over those first few days being with Richard, they remain as the most precious and sacred memories of my life with him. It is difficult to create those memories through my writing, words simply escape their capture from pen to paper, but its here in my heart, and tears easily flow as I remember how dearly and how deeply he loved ME. I knew it long before he said the words. We were ready to go out again when I gently touched his hand. Instantly he responded. He turned to me and suddenly he held me close as though he would never let me go. With tears streaming down his face he whispered, "I love you." At that very moment, without a doubt, we both knew we would marry and be husband and wife. Even without the ceremony and that piece of paper that solidifies it, we were, from that moment on, inseparably one. The night before, when I left him and went upstairs to bed, quietly he closed his door behind him. Since the moment we met, he felt a rush of emotions swelling in a river of love. Separated for the first time since being together for the first time his spirit mourned. Wanting to feel me close again, he finally drifted into a restless sleep only to awaken. "I'm in love with her," he said over and over, "but I can't take on six children, seven with my own." And yet, without a doubt, this love he felt went beyond physical desire and left him weak and willing to surrender. Richard was torn between his love and reality. That night in his dreams a messenger appeared to him. Vivid and so real he felt more alive and in tune with each word that was said to him. "Your love is not a love of this world, and this love will carry you through difficult times, you need only trust in your feelings and always keep your heart open for this is where we will guide you." I had been honest with Richard from the very beginning and he knew that my little family was shattered from the violence in my home. I was recovering, but I still had a long way to go. For years I had battled against debilitating depression and it wasn't that long ago that a breakdown had left me unable to cope with tying my shoes, taking a bath, or combing my hair; but worst of all, depression had been a thief robbing me of time with my children. It isn't easy to mother six children, all close in age, but it is impossible when a heart is hurting and others turn away. At that very moment, listening to him speak, my heart stood still and yet I didn't dare let go and just breath. Instead, I found refuge in his warm embrace. As wings of a bird open and take flight, my soul drifted into another realm and I felt the heavens open and rejoice at the reunion of twin flames. I felt his heart beating, his breath upon my hair and his hands gently wiping away my tears, and my soul wept from the depths of my heart. I softly whispered into my heart, "He knew, just like my spirit teacher said he would. Without a doubt his soul remembered and soon I would be his winter's bride." The sounds of Christmas played throughout his house as Richard prepared dinner for his mom and dad and his siblings. If they were positively shocked at our engagement, they didn't say a word. Instead they were happy for us. Later that evening I silently gave thanks for that intuitive feeling. A message from heaven reassured me that I wouldn't be alone on Christmas Eve and this was my gift: sharing sacred moments with my spirit's beloved. Monday morning we drove to the county jail. Richard remembered that they had marriage licenses for the public and since we were in such a hurry, it didn't seem all that unromantic to fill one out in a place such as the county jail facilities. Later, with papers in hand, Richard wanted to buy me a wedding ring. Excitement filled the air as we walked into a jewelry store in the mall. I was to choose my favorite wedding band; he said one that symbolizes a circle of eternal love. There was one ring which caught my eye. Victorian in design and majestic in simplicity. I said, "This is the one." Once he purchased the ring, he asked for my hand, right there in front of the sales clerk. For the first time, I whispered in his ear, "Now this isn't exactly what I would call romantic; can't you find somewhere away from gazing eyes to slide that ring on my finger?" Without hesitating he swept me out of the store and dancing through flocks of Christmas shoppers, he guided me to a more romantic place.....in between racks of clothing in Dillards Department Store. Bedazzled by his overture of rapture and romance, I looked around me. "How appropriate," I said. "Now that we're alone, hidden behind women's intimate apparel, how could any other place be more romantic?" Giggling in girlish laughter while Richard took my hand in his, he placed the ring on my finger and gently kissed my lips. We must have been in a world of our own that day. It just didn't enter our minds that someone else might think we were a little too hasty in our decision to marry, but the Bishop did. This is something I know I cannot explain, you would just have to have been there. As soon as we arrived home, Richard called his Bishop to ask him if he would marry us that evening. Without knowing all the little details, the Bishop gave us the hour to be at his home. The only suitable dress I had with me was one of black lace. Knowing that black isn't exactly what one should wear to her own wedding, I hastily gave the dress a blessing. Besides, what else was I to do? At 8:00 P.M., we arrived on the Bishop's doorstep. The moment he heard how we met he said, "What do you mean you've only known each other for three days?" His eyes were wide as saucers. In shock he asked, "Are you sure you want ME to marry you?" At first he just couldn't do it. No one gets married after knowing each other for three days, unless they are insane. I know that's exactly what he was thinking, but you must remember, this happened eight years ago and today we're still married. But of course, since we weren't asking to be married eight years after dating first, the Bishop was wise enough to know what generally happens when lovers fall in love overnight and get married the next morning. Finally he consented, but before the ceremony he sat us both down to give us a Bishop's Counsel. He sat behind his desk and we sat across from him. Carefully he opened his book, as if to stall this marriage for a few more precious moments. But no matter what he said, each time he would roll his eyes around in complete circles and raise his eyebrows until they reached the tip of his hair on his head. Once again he started to read from his book. He said simple things, such as the importance of our holy matrimony, but each time he just couldn't say it. It must have seemed so absurd to himtwo people sitting across from him asking to be married three days after meeting. Exasperated he simply closed his book exclaiming, "Are you guys sure about this?" Then he would start waving his arms saying, "Of course you must know what you're doing, but are you sure you know what you're doing?" Richard was 53 and I was 39. I'm sure he was thinking age doesn't have anything to do with it. Knowing that we weren't about to change our minds, we followed him into his living room. Standing before him, he performed our wedding ceremony. We exchanged our vows and Richard placed the wedding ring on my finger. The Bishop and his wife gave us both hugs and said they were happy for us, but I would have loved to have remained behind as a fly on the wall just to hear their conversation once we closed their front door. Without any fanfare we simply drove away. Now I had to go home and call my mother. To be honest, I didn't dare call my mother for several days. I had a ring on my finger and I was lawfully married, but when I last saw my mother, I didn't even have a guy in my life. I knew she would fly through the ceiling when I broke the news to her. Soon the word was out. Richard had called his Aunt Marene which was like putting an ad in the front page of the town's only newspaper. Phones were ringing off the hook, and then everyone called Aunt Marene to hear it straight from her. You'd think no one had ever been married in this small town before, or just maybe no one expected me to get married. Finally I called my mother. She was still visiting with my sisters in Salt Lake City, Utah. When I first told her she said, "You're just kidding me aren't you?" When I told her no, she handed the phone over to my sister. I could hear her say, "Janice is just playing a game with me. Tell her it isn't funny." My sister, Marsha, immediately grabbed the phone and said, "Janice, you're really not serious, are you?" When I said yes, she laughed and said, "I don't believe you." Over and over I tried to convince her that I really was married. She just couldn't stop screaming, "No you're not, you couldn't be." Finally I realized how crazy I really did sound. I finally said, "Don't sound so panicked, Marsha. Of course I'm just kidding." We said good-bye and I hung up. Richard walked into the room and asked, "How did it go?" I told him they wouldn't believe me so finally I agreed with them and said we really weren't married. A few hours later, I called my sister back and told her not to say a word, but just listen. I explained to her how I felt and what had happened between Richard and I; and that yes, we were married. There was a long silence at the other end of the phone. This time Marsha believed me. Stunned, she didn't say a word until I finally said, "It's okay. I know how you must feel; but just tell mom for me." A few days later, Richard and I flew to Salt Lake and talked with my mother and sisters in person. It took my mom a while before she could talk without crying. My mother had witnessed many years of her daughter's unhappiness. I never told them how violent my ex-husband was during our marriage, but the signs were impossible to deny and once I left him, my secret wasn't a secret any more. After my divorce my mother experienced the devastation of that violent marriage with me and my children. I worried her day and night because I was so physically and emotionally ill. She was gravely concerned for me now that I had jumped so quickly into a new marriage, until she spent some time with us. It was evident to everyone that this marriage was meant to be and she gave me her blessings. Dimmed by memory long ago, we had both awakened in spirit to remember and we were blissfully happy. A lover's glow emanated from our hearts reaching into the hearts of others and our soul love was felt at the deepest level. Our marriage is a marriage of our soulsthis love is incomparableit is the essence of this pure love that reminds and inspires others of the power of pure love. Christ taught that unless marriage is transformed by the Holy Spirit, it will only be an outer experience, that there is a sealing of this interchange of souls in the purity of God's Love. It is the most sacred of ceremonies ever performed and a reunion of spirits created as one, embodied in mortality as two. The following years were indeed difficult years. Even though his love was healing and I was happier than I had ever been, my own little family completely unraveled and fell apart. Over the next four years, I struggled to survive. Deep in depression and addicted to a variety of prescription drugs, I was unable to cope. Knowing our soul's commitment, and the purpose of my incarnation, he never gave up. When it was necessary, he uprooted me and my youngest three children and placed us in a better place. He made difficult choices in which he was required to sacrifice many things, but his choice was always to follow his heart. At first I was angry with him; I didn't understand why he was taking me away from a home we had built together, the only home in which I felt safe, and yet I wasn't. Over the following years, healing angels stayed with me mending a heart and body that had been severely ravaged by emotional pain. During my lifetime, I felt that I had entered the threshold of purifying fire and crossed the bridge of pain in order to be with my twin flame and begin our spiritual journey hand in hand. Even though our journeying together has not been easy, not once have we strayed from our soul's love. With his undying love, his unabated devotion and his soul's memory, not once has Richard missed a beat in romancing my heart and keeping alive this seed of dreamsnot once did he give up on me. Angels have always journeyed with us, they have always been by our sides, even when I doubted and floundered in this world of mine that doesn't allow me to believe in myself and not once did they give up on me. Together Richard and I have nurtured and nourished with the light of love a tiny seed that together we plantedthe seed of dreamsthe seed of spiritual healing for other womena book entitled, "Beneath Wings of An Angel," and with the angel's faith and Richard's unwavering belief in me, I never gave up. Today many things have changed in our family. The worst is over. I have healed, and my children are learning. My book has been completed, and our spiritual mission is just beginning. The power and the glory to my life with Richard is that through valley of tears and rivers of pain he never once lost sight of his promise to be my guiding star, my anchor in a storm, my friend and my lover. The light of his divine love has been my gravitational pull from a world of darkness filled with burden and turmoil into a world of peace. His love holds the frequency that breaks away the hardness of my outer shell, and his sacred love opened my heart where the light of my soul shines forth. He is my living water that when I drink, I thirst no more; for, he is my spirit's beloved. * * * Disclaimer: All the works on this website are protected by copyright law. |
