Merry Christmas

Arch Angel Gabriel tells Mary, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people” (Luke 2:10). Mary’s Annunciation, Angel Gabriel, and the three wise men that carried myrrh, frankincense, and gold across many miles to baby Jesus have long fascinated me. Merry Christmas 3As a Mexican Catholic by tradition, the nativity scene is emblazoned in my mind from a young age. One good Posada with the long walk and the repeating prayers and songs will make anyone versed in the Annunciation and the nativity scene. Merry Christmas 4Fast forward approximately 2015 years. Is it strange to think of Angels, Mother Mary, and Jesus outside the Bible? Is it strange to think of Angels, Mother Mary, and Jesus as nondenominational? Before I embraced my ability as a medium, I too thought it was crazy, heresy, blasphemous, and anomalous to think of such things outside of Christianity. As a Christian, on this special time when I celebrate the birth of Jesus, I give thanks to The Lord for the ability to deliver messages from Mother Mary and Arch Angel Gabriel to Christians and non-believers alike.

How is that possible you may ask? Honestly I do not know how it is possible. I just know that it happens. Apostle Paul sums it up perfectly for me in 1 Corinthian 12:7 when he says, “To each person has been given the ability to manifest the Spirit for the common good.” I have learned not to question it, but rather to lead by faith and just deliver messages.

Are you having a baby, trying to have a baby, had a miscarriage, or questioning your motherhood/fatherhood? Most likely Mother Mary is with you and will make a guest appearance, chime in, and impart sage advice. In my sessions, I feel her presence. Merry Christmas 2To me, Mother Mary feels like my mother: nurturing, loving, assertive, but kind. She smells like roses and spring. Also, she looks like a soft pink hue. I do not see her face per se, I feel, smell, and have learned to associate soft pink hue to Mother Mary. From time to time, Mother Mary will appear as a silhouette in my mind’s eye.

On my 20-minute drive to a client’s house, I suddenly felt Mother Mary’s presence and instantly knew the session would center on a child. I knock on my client’s door, I sit down, and within a couple of minutes I validate my client’s repeated failed attempts to conceive. I share with my client that Mother Mary is partnering with her grandmother to make her desires for mothering a child possible. Although this client is not Catholic or religious, she welcomes the message with no hang ups.  She is a non-believer client that believes in the message. On this day, my client had three special guests appear: her grandmother, Mother Mary, and Arch Angel Gabriel. Most often, Mother Mary and Gabriel are a packaged deal; a divine pair.

Arch Angel Gabriel means “Messenger of God”. My wife and I named our son after Angel Gabriel because we love the Annunciation story, not realizing the meaning behind the name. From Luke1:13-16, we know that Gabriel also appeared to Zechariah to announce the birth of John the Baptist (Jesus’ cousin). Like Mother Mary, he is present when a pregnancy is in the air. Gabriel is the messenger of God and often makes cameos in my sessions to those who have a message to deliver like artists, writers, singers, composers, photographers, painters etc.

The first time I realized that Angel Gabriel was with me was at a wedding. After a few drinks and a long night of celebrating a beautiful wedding, I felt a faint pressure on my chest. This pressure was different as typically, the pain is heavy and almost suffocating-like for those loved ones who have passed who try to get my attention. To me, Angel Gabriel looks and feels feminine, soft, and warm. He smells like moments before a rain storm, and looks like a gentle pale white flickering light. Merry Christmas 5At the wedding, I was left alone with a friend. I shared with her that she was expecting, it would be a girl, and that Angel Gabriel was with her. Thankfully, my friend did not slap me or abruptly walk away from the conversation; rather she proceeded to share her dreams of having a baby girl. Not to my surprise, ten months later she was blessed with a healthy, baby girl.

After the first encounter with Angel Gabriel, he has been with me to deliver messages to friends and family who haven’t figured out their life purpose, who have a book to write, or have a song to compose. Most recently, I had the honor to do a reading for my sister. She lives in El Salvador. We did not grow up together, but we share an unconditional love that binds us. Before the reading, I saw the white flickering lights that I associate with Angel Gabriel. Although her grandfather was the person I was channeling at the time, Angel Gabriel took a few minutes to make his cue. He showed me a blank book and words being typed. I immediately told her, “You have a book to write. In fact, the book is almost finished in your mind already; however, you are delaying putting it on paper.” The message deeply resonated with her. This time, her grandfather and Angel Gabriel were partnering to nudge her to publish her book. My sister was in awe that I was able to reach in her mind and heart and pull out her strongest desires of publishing a book.

On this Christmas holiday do not be afraid. Please know that The Lord and His Angels bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Tis the season of giving and for that reason, I share nuggets of wise advice from private sessions I have held. I know The Lord and His Army of Angels want you to have self-compassion, self-forgiveness, and to be happy.

Self-compassion: love yourself. Do not be harsh if you forget your lap top at home causing you to be late to work. Do not beat yourself for enjoying delicious food with friends and family. Make time for yourself. Luke 5:16 describes Jesus withdrawing himself in the wilderness to pray and be alone. Keep it New Testament style and make time for yourself. In this world of chaos, time-is-money mentality, process improvements and efficiency, time is against us when we permit it. Always remember we are created in His image. Anyone who is a parent knows how defeated you feel when you witness your children being overly critical over their appearance or other short comings. As parents we just want to absorb all their insecurities and show them their true worth. Remember that next time you’re beating yourself up. We are all His children.

Self-forgiveness: forgive yourself for what you did or did not do. In the eve of my mother’s passing, I prayed and mediated for forgiveness. In my mind, I asked God to forgive me for all my transgressions against my mother and I asked my mother to forgive me the many times I fell short in her eyes. It was one of my most cathartic experiences ever. How can you love anyone else if you do not love yourself? Part of learning to love yourself is learning to live guilt free. As a Christian, know that Jesus died for your sins. He carried that cross for you to love yourself.

Be happy: find out what makes you happy. Soon after you define and implement what makes you happy, passion and abundance will ensue. I graduated college in 2003. In 2014 I finally discovered what makes me happy, my passion, and my life purpose. I have always been great at my job, over excelling, and promoting quickly within any organization that I worked. My jobs have always been lackluster, though. I was driven by money and a title, but never really found peace at work. On April 18, 2015, I published my first blog about my gift. For the first time in my life, I can say I am truly all around happy with myself. I love my wife and children, I enjoy my work, and I dedicate time to fuel my soul by meeting with clients and channeling messages from their passed loved ones and Angels.

“For to us a child is born. To us a son is given and the government will be his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” Isaiah 9:6

Holiday Reflection

“We were poor but we had love. That’s the one thing that [momma] made sure of.” Loretta Lynn’s lyrics hypnotize me. It is Black Friday and North Texas’ first freeze. I fail to keep up with the conversation over dinner at Babe’s Chicken Dinner House. My senses are on overdrive. The crispy, double fried chicken thigh and buttery mashed potatoes and flashbacks of my past dominate my sensory motherboard. My Past plays in my mind. The Present enjoys dinner with my family which includes my father from Nevada and sister from El Salvador. On this holiday season, my Future affirms my children will not know the plight of a “miner’s wage,” thanks to momma’s hard work.

Holiday Reflection 1

“Momma loved and raised [four] kids on a [seamstress’] pay.” As a child, we never celebrated Thanksgiving. For my brothers and me, it was a break from school. My momma worked and usually only had Thanksgiving Day off. “I seen her fingers bleed, to complain there was no need.” Yes, I recall seeing my mom’s finger bleed through the gauze as she described a sewing needle piercing her thumb. She never complained as she drifts to sleep to start all over tomorrow morning. Spirit plays this moment just minutes after I complain about Wal-Mart’s ridiculous Black Friday crowd. After I make the connection that I should be gracious for this moment, in my mind, “she smiles in mommy’s understanding way.”

“In the summertime we didn’t have shoes to wear but in the wintertime we’d all get a brand new pair.” Christmas was always bitter sweet. To me, this season was bitter because I never had the opportunity to believe in Santa Claus. After a few disappointing Christmases, I was conditioned not to believe in Santa Claus against all earnest attempts of the contrary. Jesus’ birth was sweet because of non-profit organizations such as the Salvation Army and King’s Daughters. God blessed me with loving teachers. My Kindergarten teacher is my hero. She blessed our family with memorable Christmas: shoes, clothes, Christmas Tree, and a toy. I know momma worked hard to pay the bills and maintain our livelihood. Momma’s love prevailed over the poverty. I knew the trailer we lived in was no mansion, but somehow I was fulfilled. I was once a Salvation Army Angel, and I know the Lord blessed me with many Angels throughout my life.

“Well, a lot of things have changed since way back then.” “Yes they have,” I quietly thank God. My wife and I made a life for ourselves. By the grace of God, hard work that I learned from my momma, and education, I am prepared to give my children a life my momma and I always wanted. The glass of Malbec is empty. I pour one more glass and enjoy this humbling holiday reflection as the song continues to play, “and it’s so good to be back home again. Not much left but the floors, nothing lives here anymore, except the memories of a coal miner’s daughter.”

#22

Monday, November 2, 2015

It’s a beautiful day, mid 70’s, sunny. I reach for my sunglasses as I start my commute back home. As I commonly due, I thank the Lord for a productive day at work and a safe trip home. After my prayer, my mind drifts to my mom. “Wow, it’s been almost a month since she has passed.” It does not feel like it, but my iPhone calendar confirms it is November 2, 2015. At a stop light on the corner of Hulen and Bellaire Drive in Fort Worth, the scene of my mom smiling while in the hospital plays in my mind. My eyes wonder to the license plate in front of me XXX-3322. As this moment computes in my mind that I just saw 22 while thinking about mom, my ears simultaneously tune to the radio. Adele’s hauntingly beautiful lyrics, “Hello from the other side” ring through my ears and sends chills up and down my spine. Wow, that was a loud “hello” from mom. Spirit is amazing as tears bubble.

Although I have not channeled my mom since her passing, I feel her presence around me daily. Today, I now surrender to the notion of channeling my mother and give thanks for the signs she leaves me. I feel her when I run Trinity Trail, I feel her when I drive home, I feel her when I am eating, I even feel her at night when I wake up suddenly randomly at 3:33AM. The Lord has blessed me with the ability to hone in on signs and I am relishing in it big time!

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Sunday, September 27, 2015

My night’s sleep was interrupted by an early-morning phone call from my brother. “Mom is in the ER,” he said. Those words cause immediate worse-case scenario thoughts as I struggle to open my eyes. By around 8AM that morning, I was in the operating room translating for my mom. “Mom, you need to sign these forms to have the surgery to correct the perforations in your stomach,” I translated. Indeed, the Stage IV Gastrointestinal cancer reared its ugly head after being dormant for the last two years. The cancer had eaten the walls in mom’s stomach. After a few hours in surgery, the General Doctor’s reports were very optimistic. Mom was recovering in ICU Room #22.

Room #22, “That’s funny,” I thought. “Why am I seeing #22, or #222 a lot lately?” As I waited for her to recover, the number 22 spun a movie in my third eye. “The number 22 is fitting at this exact moment.” Two of her sons are in the Texas area and two of her sons are in Mexico. Four sons separated by a border created by the Rio Grande River, but bonded by mother’s love.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Mom’s sole sibling came to visit her today. Mom was surprisingly better. My uncle talked to her in a way that only an older brother could; in a loving yet direct way. If it were not for my uncle, there is no way we could have completed a Living Will and a DNR. It was awesome to see mom in such good spirits, especially when I told her mother, my abuela had told me, “It is not yet her time.”

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

My wife and I got her to sign the finalized Living Will and DNR. On our way out of the hospital, we ran into the Oncologist and General Doctor. “We recommend hospice. At this point the cancer will continue to perforate her stomach.” Those words were a sucker punch to the gut as I immediately thought about abuela and her time at hospice care. “She lived only three days after she arrived home,” is all I could think. My future was suddenly rattled. But wait, abuela told me it was not her time yet?

I went home to eat dinner. I desperately needed normality. I needed my children and wife to feel grounded. Tears covered my face at the thought of not having mom around. I rushed out of my house after dinner and bathing the kids. I wanted to say good night to my mom on last time before visiting hours were enforced. My mind was inundated with haunting thoughts. I was in no condition to drive. I did not leave my subdivision before I got into a wreck. Admittedly, I ran into a silver truck. It was my fault. “What does 22 mean?” “Why do I keep seeing it?” I thought as I heeded God’s warning to slow down and ground myself. I researched the numbers 22, 222 for the first time and I found out in Angel numbers it means, “Keep the Faith.”

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Thursday, October 1, 2015

I woke up to see #22 on my fridge formed by plastic magnets. “Ha,” I thought, “My kids must have been playing with magnets, but thank you Lord for the reminder to keep my faith.”

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Friday, October 2, 2015

It was my youngest child’s birthday today. My mom secretly wished to be better by this weekend. She told me earlier in the week that she wanted all birthdays to proceed as planned and to bring her a piece of cake.

After dinner and a small celebration with my wife and children at home, I spent the night with mom at the hospital. Little did I know it would be the last night I would be with her. I took my laptop with me. It was my time to ask her questions. Around 9PM, I pulled out my laptop. I told her I was writing a book titled, To The Most Influential Woman in My Life Who I Barely Knew. She laughed. A part of me knew she wasn’t going to share much. What she did share though, those golden nuggets of information, I will forever treasure.

Friday night was horrible. It was the first time that I had seen her hallucinate. The pain medication made her afraid of the nurses and she described seeing “people” steal her medicine. If the side effects were not bad enough, she yanked the IVs off the machine and was refusing any more drugs. For the second time in my life, mom was a vulnerable child.

Sunday, October 4, 2015

As a family, we all decided home hospice was the best option. Luckily, a good friend is a hospice nurse and gave us additional information regarding hospice options. That day, I decided to take Day 1 of watching mom. “Someone is required to be with her 24 hours a day,” was the instruction we received. A hospice nurse or assistant would be there once a day to change her gauze and check vitals. The night before, I prayed for a 24-hour nurse to be alongside my mom. I know my weaknesses and I struggled with the idea of changing her diaper, gauze, etc.

Monday, October 5 2015

On my way to mom’s small house, I stopped by the Dollar General to pick up last-minute essentials. I bought trash bags, bed liners, sheets, throw blankets, pillows, diapers, gloves, air freshener. I prayed, “God you know me better than I. I am of your service. Thank you for giving me the strength and knowledge to be there for my mother. Thank you for the endurance and alertness to be 100% for my mother.” The hospice transport delivered mom at 11AM. Between me, my brother, stepfather, wife, and sister-in-law, we made great efforts to make her home pleasant, stocked with her favorite foods, and comfortable.

Immediately after the hospice drivers drove off mom asked me to look for her blue purse. After a couple failed attempts at locating the correct blue purse, I found it. She instructed me to get $200 out of her purse. She made it very clear. The money was for her grandchildren with birthdays in October. At that moment, I was a deer in headlights. As the sun set on her life, she was still concerned more about her family than she was about herself. Her selflessness shot through me and left an indelible mark on my soul. “In my death bed, I want to be thinking of others just like she,” I thought.

At noon I heard a knock on the door. To our surprise, it was a hospice nurse who informed us that a nurse would be with mom 24 hours a day. “Wow!” I humbly thanked the Lord for answering my prayers. My children and wife came over Monday night. The life a child brings in somber moments will always astound me. For a few hours, mom was healthy and normal; she was laughing, telling jokes, eating, and loving on her grandchildren. “Thank you Lord for this moment,” I prayed on my home that night.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

In my dream, mom visited me. She was healthy and in her 30’s. She did not say much, but somehow I felt everything she ever wanted to tell me. “Keep your faith.”

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Mom passed away at 2:22PM surrounded by her family and friends; just the way she would have wanted. This was her time.

Friday, October 9, 2015

The funeral service was the outlet I needed to shed tears and mourn the passing of my mother. I am forever grateful to those friends who sent flowers and made it to the service to honor my mom.

October 11 – 17, 2015, Zacatecas, Mexico

This trip was a pilgrimage back to mom’s home town. For the first time, all brothers were together. I felt mom everywhere.

October 21, 2015

Tomorrow will be tough for me. Mom was always the first one to wish me happy birthday. No matter where I was living, she made it a point to call me first thing in the morning.

October 22, 2015

While the kids were getting ready for school, I opened my birthday card my wife left me the night before. Included in my birthday card was a lottery ticket. My eyes zoom directly to the bottom, right-hand side. Is that the number 22? “Holy crap it is!” “Thank you mom, I knew you would somehow manage to wish me happy birthday first thing in the morning!”

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For lunch I stopped at Fuzzy’s Tacos before my appointment with a tattoo artist. I did not know where to sit. I let myself be guided by Spirit. As I took a bit of my taco, I looked up and I saw the number 22 directly in front of me. “Holy crap, thanks mom for having lunch with me”! I was stunned and thankful for this moment.

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For obvious reasons I got a 22 tatted on my arm. I am keeping my faith and mom close to me.

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What if another realm moved through you?

This Is Actually Happening is a podcast on misfitrad.io that is dedicated to capturing “first-person stories that explores what happens when everything changes.” Over the summer I had the opportunity to interview with Whit Missildine PhD. It was pleasure to share my experience with him and now you.

http://misfitrad.io/happening/63

Enjoy!

#SpeakYourTruth

I caution you, this blog will be a hit or miss for the reader. Either you can totally relate with #SpeakYourTruth or find yourself completely confused.  As a self-diagnosed recovering mute and intuitive medium, I have learned the importance of holding yourself equal to those you serve. If you relate you know exactly what I mean. If you are confused let me explain.

Person A

A bullet-proof glass separates father and children. A short-wired phone acts as a life line for the jail-ridden father, but for the children, it is just another task to complete for the day. The mundane task “See Dad Before He Gets Deported” vexes teenagers who are completely over the insipid excuses of a father’s shortcomings. A simple, “I am sorry, it’s completely my fault that I am behind bars and I recognize all the turmoil I caused,” is the wrecking ball the children need to break down the Great Walls they constructed to insulate themselves from their father. Regrettably, the father cannot #SpeakYourTruth. The father cannot say what I clairsentiently feel in his heart. The father cannot say what I intuitively know he wants to say to make this jail visit worthwhile for his children on the other side of the bullet-proof glass.  Conversely, I feel the gut pain the children feel in that moment: the moment where for the first time you feel powerful and superior to the weaker, vulnerable person behind bars. My brain reverberated and brought me to the day I was on the other side of the bullet-proof glass facing the pedophile who molested me. Like I did at that precise time, I wanted to #SpeakYourTruth, but quietly acquiesced my ego to show respect. It’s crazy what half an inch of glass can do to a person. That half inch of glass can simultaneously be Superman’s Kryptonite and Harry Potter’s protective invisible cloak.

­Person B

A night of celebration fills the air as a perished maternal grandfather comes forth. Person B joined my wife and me for drinks after a rehearsal dinner. #SpeakYourTruth, #SpeakYourTruth echoed in my ear. The maternal grandfather who passed several years ago insisted I repeat those words to his granddaughter with whom I shared drinks. This was my first time meeting Person B. “How can I broach the subject naturally in conversation?” I asked myself and Angels. I felt a gurgling sensation and pain that Person B suffered. Instantly, I felt an affinity toward her. I knew she withheld her feelings for the sake of others. I instinctively knew she was that person people in need first called for a bail out. The tremendous amount of pressure she had undertaken by placating others suffocated me. I felt it all. Surprisingly, her maternal grandfather was the complete opposite. I heard him curse and I felt confident when he came forth. Person B and grandfather were opposites, but grandfather came through as a means to provide guidance and balance. He himself acknowledged his egregious #SpeakYourTruth moments in his lifetime. In fact, he regretted his overactive propensity to #SpeakYourTruth. Living or passed, our shortcomings hinder our present lifetime and turn to regrets when we pass if we do not acknowledge and manage them now.

Person C

A new bride and groom dance the ceremonial first dance as I feel a childhood friend came through for a group of friends. “Please God, if you want me to channel this friend, place me alone with the group,” I pleaded. Inevitably, Sprit accommodated my request. In that private moment, I channelled the group’s childhood friend. The passed loved one came through to acknowledge the broken relationship between mother and Person C (son). Person C could not communicate with his mother and Spirit was fully aware of it. Spirit supplicated that Person C extend an olive branch and talk to his mother. The friend did not want Person C to suffer the pain of regret similar to what Person C felt for not answering his friend’s phone call before he passed. #SpeakYourTruth I heard. The friend came through to encourage Person C to #SpeakYourTruth and make amends with his mother.

I have learned and Spirit shows me that #SpeakYourTruth does not mean being rude, brash, or unloving. #SpeakYourTruth does not mean blatantly casting other people’s feeling aside. #SpeakYourTruth does not mean being disloyal to your partner.

#SpeakYourTruth means saying how you feel in a loving, harmonious way. #SpeakYouTruth means saying, “Yes, thank you, I will take you up on your offer to watch my kids.” #SpeakYourTruth means “No, sorry partner, I prefer you stay home Friday night.” #SpeakYourTruth is telling your parent, “I appreciate your eagerness to help me, but I will let you know when I need your help.” #SpeakYouTruth means saying, “Your action hurt me and I know you care for me, but I want you to know how your actions make me feel.”

Speaking your truth is way easier said than done. I realize this. For a long time I quietly subsided my feelings for the sake of pleasing others. Often times I found myself inadvertently hurting others by trying to placate others. I became a master juggler with a plastered smile. I managed everyone’s feelings while neglecting my own.

For a long time I suffered from stomach pains and acne. I easily absorbed the energy of those around me. True in the past and present, I can walk into a room and automatically feel the energy that blankets the entire room. If the energy was heavy or if there was a fight, I innately made it a point to resolve the conflict even when the fight did not involve me. The persistent stomach ailments led to an appendectomy at the age of 27. With the help of Spirit, at the age of 32, did I finally learn the important lesson of #SpeakYourTruth. It is vital to align your chakras, especially your solar plexus chakra that governs your stomach (see link). As self-diagnosed recovering mute medium, I am learning how to master the art of being true to myself while aligning to God’s will: how to balance masculine and feminine energy, how to intertwine Ying and Yang. To many of you, this blog is irrelevant. To some it will strongly resonate. We have this life. We must live it to the fullest. A vital tool to living life to the fullest is #SpeakYourTruth (read the following book).

Timeless

I set my iPhone alarm for 6:00 AM. Like others, I rely on my iPhone to keep me on track throughout the day. I know I have to leave the house by 7:20 AM to arrive at work at 7:55 AM. My work schedule is usually predetermined days before today. At 5:00 PM I shut down my computer and leave work to pick up my kids from daycare. I arrive at daycare at 5:35 PM, just to get home in time for dinner, playtime, showers, and then it is bedtime around 11:00 PM. As a father, husband, and employee, I am constantly conscious of my To-Do List and mentally check off those completed items. A whirlwind occurs which slams Mondays into Fridays. I get a much-needed reprieve on Saturdays, just to spend Sundays preparing to do it all over again. As I hone my mediumship and with every new encounter, Spirit reveals enough for me to conclude that time on Earth is different from those on the other side; timeless. “How so?” you may ask.

Think of a traffic reporter in his helicopter (Spirit) and the driver (us on Earth) on a congested I-35N. The traffic reporter can recognize an accident long before you and I do. To the driver, the future is five minutes down the road. On the other hand, to the traffic reporter, your future is his present. As a driver you have the option to tune in to your favorite radio station or review google traffic map and get a glimpse of what is ahead of you. Similar to google traffic maps or traffic reports on the radio to inform you of trouble areas, loved ones who have passed and Angels continuously send us signs and nudges to help guide us.

For this blog, I received consent from a client and friend to share their experience to highlight how time is different on the other side.

Client Anonymous, April 9, 2015

My client validated the person who I was feeling, hearing, and seeing was her grandfather. At 9:28 PM all of a sudden I saw AA batteries. I recalled my days as an HEB General Merchandise stocker: boxes and boxes of AA batteries stacked on top each other. At that moment, my client did not make a connection.

Timeless 1.At 9:50 PM my client experienced an amazing validation from her grandfather.

Timeless 2In this case, 22 minutes separated present and future for my client. For her grandfather though, 22 minutes was all in the same: it was all in present time. It was the traffic reporter who spotted the wreck off I-20 and I-35 N long before the commuter headed south.

Friend Ileana C., April 30, 2015

I had the privilege to channel her paternal grandmother, Abuelita. This was the first time that the entire session was in the future (Earth time). At this point my concept of time was limited. After an hour of talking with Ileana, I could sense Ileana was not completely sold on my reading. It was the weeks after our session that really confirmed Abuelita was with Ileana and her family.

As I started the reading, Abuelita placed a big blue, purple butterfly in my face. It was front and center of my mind’s eye.  Like a kid proudly showing off his painting to his parent, I could clairsentiently tell Abuelita was excited to talk with Ileana. At that moment, Ileana was not able to immediately make a connection. Ileana admitted that she associated yellow Monarchs with Abuelita; however, the blue and purple was something new. “No problem, I am sure you it will make sense later,” I repeated throughout our session.

On May 1, I received a heartfelt “thank you” from Ileana. After our session she opened her Facebook and her Feed showed the below picture: a big blue and purple butterfly. In this case, Abuelita merged present and future. For Ileana seeing this picture validated our reading. To me, it again highlighted that present and future were minutes apart.

The following example left me completely awestruck. During our session, Ileana asked a personal question regarding the past. Abuelita showed me something completely unrelated to her question. Reflecting back to our session, Abuelita was completely in control and I should have known better. Abuelita showed me a round, wooden table and a wall covered in mounted deer-like animals with horns. Abuelita allowed me to smell and feel the wooden table. Anytime Spirit channels seemingly minor details such as the smell of a wooden table, I know it is somehow important. An overwhelming sense of happiness hit my heart and flooded my blood with endorphins. I got the sense Abuelita was around at that exact time; laughing and enjoying her family. I explained what I saw. Ileana admitted it did not really compute. It did not at all relate to the question Ileana posed. I know now not to question Spirit. I have learned to just translate what I see, hear, and feel regardless if it makes sense to the person in front of me. Wouldn’t you know, Abuelita was more eager to discuss Ileana’s love life and was less concerned about the past?  Abuelita showed me the restaurant that Ileana and her now-boyfriend were dining the following night on May 1, 2015. Ileana sent me this picture that weekend!timeless 4In this case present and future was a day apart. To me though, Abuelita was not only the traffic reporter above. She was simultaneously the police officer directing traffic on the busy highway.  Abuelita sidestepped questions to express how much she approved of Ileana’s date. How freaking cool is that!? It’s almost as if Abuelita played matchmaker:  a date made in Heaven. No pressure on the new boyfriend, eh?

As I continue to refine my mediumship I am confident Spirit will reveal Divine lessons according to His will; according to His time. I am an excited five-year old on Halloween night waiting to eat all the candy at once. Like God, parents teach us patience and dole out nuggets of chocolate and candy to keep us intrigued just enough to be patient: to be timeless.

Below is Time, an excerpt from the book, “Gifts From A Course In Miracles,” by Frances Vaughn and Roger Walsh.  A great friend recommended this book as this blog was in the inception phase. To me, I read this excerpt from the point of view of the traffic reporter. I interpret this passage as what Spirit is trying to tell us here on Earth.

Time and eternity are both in your mind,

and will conflict until you perceive time

solely as a means to regain eternity.

Now is the closest approximation of eternity

that this world offers.

It is in the reality of “now,”

without past or future,

that the beginning of the appreciation

of eternity lies.

For only “now” is here.

Look lovingly upon the present,

for it holds the only things that are forever true.

All healing lies within it.

When you have learned to look on everyone

with no reference at all to the past,

either his or yours as you perceive it,

you will be able to learn from what you see now.

To be born again is to let the past go,

and look without condemnation upon the present.

The present is before time was,

and will be when time is no more.

In it are all things that are eternal,

and they are one.

Fear is not of the present,

But only of the past and future,

which do not exist.

Why wait for Heaven?

It is here today.

Time is the great illusion it is past

or in the future.

Here in the present is the world set free.

For as you let the past be lifted

and release the future from your ancient fears,

you find escape and give it to the world.

What time but now can truth be recognized?

The present is the only time there is.

The past is gone;

the future but imagined.

These concerns are but defenses

against present change.

Bath Time

As I sit behind my Dell computer to type this blog, Rascal Flats lyrics suddenly flood my mind, “God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you.” Just as quickly as the lyrics appear in the back of my mind, I innately take it as a sign to share the proceeding blog dedicated to my beautiful wife, Andrea. Thank you for eleven years of marriage. Thank you for my beautiful family. Thank you for sharing this journey called life with me. 

Soap suds cover Gabriel’s tiny body. “Wow, Gabriel is only two and is completely in love with his mother,” I remember thinking as Gabriel shares giggles with his mother. It is bath time. BathTimeAs most parents know, bath time can either be a stressful situation filled with screams and tears, or on occasion, a pleasurable experience between parent and child. This summer night though, God graced me with a tender moment. Lavender suds, squeaky ducks and trucks, rubber letters and numbers cover the bath tub as Gabriel stretches out for his mother.  Gabriel grins. His smile is accentuated by an impeccably placed dimple. His honey-colored eyes radiate the subtle combination of innocence, vulnerability and love that only a child can exude. At this precise moment it all makes sense to me. Time stands still. This moment is a picture. My soul wonders off to the past and ruminates. It hits me. A lightbulb goes off. My son looks up to his mother with the same reverence and love as I have toward my own mother. This indelible moment leaves me humbled as I hold back the tears and shake off goose bumps (read Grounded).

At this precise moment I recall the many fights, tears, nightmares, moments of hiding below beds to avoid my drunken father, and endless prayers to God for a perfect family. My childhood was far from picture perfect. I witnessed my mother beaten against a tree, kicked and punched, choked and strangled, bruised and bloody by the hands of men. Despite the shitty men in our lives my mother remained selflessly committed to giving her children only the best. I revisit the dark valleys of childhood that extended to my teenage years. My years in middle and high school were scared by depraved acts by the hands of a man. As I learned from my mother as a child, I learned to cleverly mask behind my smile. The love my mother gave me, the guidance He provided, this broken road led me straight to Andrea.

At this precise moment I remember the summer of July 1999. After I graduated high school I was committed to leave my hometown, finish my job at HEB, and start my college life with no ties. God had a different plan. That summer of 1999 God ushered Andrea into my life. I was thrown off course; however, for the first time in my life I was excited. Something inside me changed. Admittedly I did not recognize it at the time, but I know now, my soul had met his mate. Just like an Angel tasked to provide guidance, Andrea was there as I professionally and spiritually resolved my inner demons throughout college, marriage, fatherhood and even a vital played a role in reacquainting me with God and Spirit.

At this precise moment bath time becomes a divine classroom. My son’s eyes evoke a beautiful journey of darkness and light. The Master Author can only script such juxtaposition of present and past, of love and fear, of wife and mother and son and deliver it in a way that I process the lesson in a matter of seconds. The soap suds that cover his chin, the lavender smell that conceals the pesty mold on the hard-to-reach corners, and the humidity that suffocates my nostrils form a divine backdrop as I learned His lesson, “Andrea is my mother to my son. Love your wife as you love your mother. You are in the perfect family you yearned and prayed for as a child. Just as you remember how your father treated your mother, your son will recall how you treat his mother.” Time resumes. I quietly turn away as to not interrupt this awesome, innocent mother-son bath time. At this precise moment I.LOVE.BATH.TIME and I am #BeyondThankful

imageIt is all about changing perspective. It is all about being grateful for those little golden treasures that get lost in chaos .It is all about surrendering and releasing your fears to Him.

Out of this situation, only good will come

In the spirit if sharing personal information, I hope you find comfort in knowing everyone experiences rough waters. The following blog highlights my shortcomings as a father and husband. Again, I am baring it all in front of you. We are mere sailors navigating the seas that He has prepared for us. Luckily for us, we are all divinely equipped with a lighthouse, a beacon, and an inner compass. Louise L. Hay perfectly sums my perspective on life’s choppy waters or monsoons. She says, “All is well. Everything is working out for my highest good. Out of this situation, only good will come. I am safe.”

Out of this situation, only good will come. Last August 2014, I was not aware of this quote. I did have cheerleaders on the other side rooting for Andrea and me. My monsoon lasted longer than I anticipated and almost flipped my little family’s boat. By the time I was forced to break into my children’s piggy bank, I was beaten and overwhelmed. I hijacked my son’s piggy bank and deposited the $111.00 into my bank account. Payday was only three days away and we needed to cover gas and groceries for the week. It was not the first time I had used my children’s birthday money to cover family expenses. Just two week prior to breaking in my son’s piggy bank, I slipped a yellow sticky $234 I.O.U into my daughter’s piggy bank. I was embarrassed, I was resentful toward my wife, and I was furious at myself. “I cannot believe we are in this situation! There are four degrees hanging on our wall, but we are living with my brother and we have asked my mother-in-law to buy the kids school supplies.” Using credit cards to pay for the basics did not cover the income shortfalls of a one-household income.

I was embarrassed. I could not believe we were living paycheck-to-paycheck. At that time, I was 33, father of two, and a husband, and we were living with my brother. Anytime a ray of sun broke through the clouds, something unexpected happened that derailed us from finding our own home. My original plan to live with my brother for a few months faded in the back ground as we now celebrated a year in his home.

I was resentful. We liquidated our savings and 401k to launch my wife’s practice. The expected return on investment did not meet the realities of a small business owner. Although Andrea tenaciously worked to launch her practice, it never quite took off as we hoped. My fear-based ego repeated, “All she has provided for this family is insurmountable student debt and now business debt.” I felt tricked since this whole time we felt lead by God to invest in the business and followed His guidance.  He promised everything would be OK. At the moment, things weren’t OK.

I was furious at myself. Our financial situation, or lack thereof, placed a dagger in my marriage. Love faded. Darkness filled our bedroom and souls. We both can admit now, we were hanging on a thin fiber of a thread. “Till death do us part, or money struggles ruin our marriage,” I commonly quipped.

Out of this situation, only good will come.

While rough waters plagued my life, Spirit made synchronistic attempts to show me everything would be ok.

In the darkest of times, as humans, we innately gravitate toward our personal “lighthouse”, or beacon, by using our inner compass. My wife and I prayed and meditated like nuns in a monastery. The Bible, the book The Secret by Rhonda Byrne, a candle we lit during prayer, and Paw-paw, my wife’s grandfather, shifted my anger-based mind to a pleasant, gracious, affirmative-based mind.

“Prosperity in all areas I now name: good health, wealth, and happiness is what I claim. As I light this candle, of this I know, all three of these areas as I will it, make it so.” Andrea and I repeated that verse in between prayers as we were nestled around the Bible, a green candle, a holy cross made out of stone, and a vision board we created. For each area of prosperity, we recited what we were thankful for. For example, regarding good health, a prayer after the verse would be “Dear God, thank you for blessing us with healthy children, thank you for comforting my mom and sending angels her way to alleviate her pain from cancer. Thank you for filling her soul with love and laughter. Thank you for eliminating the stress we are enduring at the moment and replacing it with love. Thank you for our family’s health.”

This special time, between Andrea, me, and God, brought us closer. Daily, we were committed to allotting time to focus on the positive. By doing so, it forced us to shift our way of thinking. The walls my mind constructed encapsulated embarrassment, resentfulness, and fury. After months of shifting my way of thinking, the walls gradually deteriorated. I was thankful for living with my brother. What better time for my children and nieces to develop a close relationship? I was thankful for the opportunity to live with my brother and act as we did when we were living under our parents’ roof. As for resentfulness, I know so many people with grand ideas and aspirations of being an entrepreneur but allow fear to imprison innovation. We were blessed to give it try early in our lives.

All along, Paw-paw and Grandma were very much present in my voyage across rough waters. One morning in August, Paw-paw randomly showed me a picture of soldiers gathered around a flag.    TeddyThen he showed me Andrea sitting at her desk and the anxiety I felt subsided; I was showered in peace. I received a call from Andrea later that day. She called to tell me she bought (rather her legal assistant bought for her) a picture on sale from two art vendors making rounds in the neighborhood offloading art in exchange for $30. I immediately asked, “Is one of those pictures of soldiers gathered around a flag?” Indeed it was! When Paw-paw died, Andrea received his audiobooks and one was about Teddy Roosevelt. The picture she bought was of Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders. It was a sign. I shared my encounter with Paw-paw. In the category 5 monsoon of our journey, Paw-paw stepped in and gave an uplifting message or sign.

On a separate occasion, I channeled Grandma, not knowing Andrea just moments before prayed saying, “Grandma, it would be nice to hear from you.” That day, Andrea flat lined with work and surrendered. Without my knowledge, Andrea specifically requested Grandma present herself and deliver a message. Guess what the message was?  “Honor God.”

Out of this situation, only good will come.

To find solace in the storm, prayer and meditation alone will not suffice. Unfortunately, bags of gold did not parachute in from the sky.  My positive mind refocused my attention. By the end of August, I was an Uber driver working nights and weekends to supplement our income. Andrea applied for contract work and interviewed for a couple of prospects. All were dead ends. By the end of November, Andrea secured a fulltime job as a Managing Attorney for a non-profit organization. Non-profit was always her passion and was her end goal with her private practice. The job literally fell in her lap through a good friend from law school. She was able to keep her office, paralegal, and start a branch in Dallas. Just like Paw-paw reiterated time and time again, Andrea remained behind her desk with a fixed, steady income. As for me, I too secured a better-paying job by early December. After struggling to keep faith for a year and a half, our lives totally changed in the period of two months.

Next time you are overwhelmed and feel like giving up, remember my story. Keep faith.  Change your perspective. Be more thankful. See the signs around you from your passed loved ones. Be more gracious, and repeat, “out of this situation, only good will come. I will be safe.”

To my son, Gideon

What is the happiest you have ever been in your life?  You know, that moment everything around you dissipates, your smile stretches ear to ear, and your gut churns Monarch butterflies. I become myopic and all I see are the results displayed in a holy, blue cross. “Amor, I am pregnant,” Andrea exclaims on September 10, 2009. For the first time in my life, time suspended. Nothing makes sense, but yet oddly enough, I seem to align with an estranged higher self. “I am going to be a dad? I am going to be responsible for another human being?” I repeatedly question myself. A few days after the blissful high, my dreams of fatherhood are suddenly yanked from underneath me. On September 15, 2009, Andrea’s OBGYN delivers the darkest news of my life. “You are having a miscarriage,” as a pool of blood forms at the bottom of the examining table. “You need to go home, rest, and let the process occur naturally. If it makes you feel any better, I have been pregnant seven times and have three beautiful children,” says the OBGYN’s assistant as tears pour down a picture-perfect world Andrea and I have constructed.  We walk out of the OBGYN’s office; a blood trail behind us highlights our exit while a crumpled world ahead looms over our future. “Andrea will be a mortuary and our home a grave for Baby A,” I morbidly think as I mindlessly hand over my credit card to pay the $25 copay.  Then we were on our way to a radiologist for a sonogram.  The results were confirmed, “See the sack?  There is supposed to be a fetal pole in there and I do not see one,” says the technician as we stare blankly at the empty circular blob on the screen.

For a few days, thoughts of a miscarriage dominated our world. We waited three long days for the results of a blood test.  Since it was so early in the pregnancy, the only sure way to confirm was with a blood test.  Despite the bleak results we were initially given, we somehow held onto a glimmer of hope. Blood results were in, Andrea was still pregnant. Contrary to the OBGYN’s early prognosis, on May 23, 2010, God blessed us with a vibrant, rambunctious, and defiant baby girl, Giselle.

Sometime in September 2014, on my lunch hour, a meditation abruptly brought forth a dark past I had locked away in the deepest chasm in my mind. After my meditation, I called Andrea sobbing. Baby A, or Gideon as I later named him, stepped forwarded and made his presence known.

I followed my routine of meditating. I prayed to God, asked for his protection and guidance. I set my intentions to receive any messages from God and His Angels. After five minutes of concentrating on my inhales and exhales, I felt a presence. The presence was new to me. At that time, I had limited exposure to Spirits. After a few minutes of concentrating on the presence, I deduced it was a toddler; a boy. I acknowledged his presence and asked him to step forward. As any other toddler would, Baby A shows off his toys. Suddenly, my mind’s eye is a stage for a Show and Tell. “Wow, you love tyrannosaurus rex uh,” I proclaim as he shoves the dinosaur in my face. I remain grounded and focused on the beautiful moment I am sharing with Baby A. The cacophony of a little boy playing with his dinosaurs is a sweet symphony in my ear. I recall thinking, “Wow, this is the same noise Giselle makes when playing with toys.” After the Show and Tell ends, Baby A jumps on my lap. Yes, you read that correctly, I feel a soul jump on my lap. Innately, I am not frightened. Contrary, I was entranced by this celestial encounter. While Baby A was on my lap and running his hands on my face, an immense sense of love overcomes me. It was not a Cupid-flung arrow kind of love. It was that immense love when a father holds his child for the first time. “Wait, I know you,” I whisper as he showers me with Eskimo kisses. My brain finally syncs to my heart. “Yes, Giselle was to be born alone. One of us had to go. It was her time,” Baby A tells me. A tear runs down my face. I feel a soft, tender kiss as he wraps his hands around me. “I do not want this moment to end. Please suspend time,” I beg God. “It’s Giselle’s turn to be here. I am watching after Giselle and Gabriel. I love you and mommy so much. Please give mommy a big kiss for me,” as Baby A continues. “What is my name? I would love to have a name. What is my name, Daddy?” I reply, “Gideon Aguilar; Gideon, after God’s brave solider.” A barrage of stars, confetti, balloons, hearts, and firecrackers flood my mind’s eye. I felt and saw his excitement after I named him. “Thank you, Daddy. I love it. Please tell mommy, Giselle, and Gabriel about me. I love my family so much. Can I get a Christmas stocking too?” My composure is a covered pan of boiling water. I say, “Of course Gideon. I love you so much.” He gives me a gentle hug and interlaces our fingers together. Unfortunately for me, time is up. My supplication for time suspension is not answered. Gideon’s presence vanishes.

Gideon is very much part of our family.

Gideon’s visit taught me so much. Souls are part of every pregnancy; even as early as five weeks as it was in our case. Although I am not sure specifically at what time a soul enters a body, I speculate it is even before conception. Souls continue to be part of your family. Growing up, Giselle talked to imaginary friends. When she turned two, she became scared of “bad guys” in her room. In that special visit, Gideon validated that he just wanted to play and apologized for scaring her. The connection between you and soul is very much natural and real. Four years after Andrea’s miscarriage, I instinctively recognized Gideon when he jumped on my lap. An ethereal cord connects us to passed-love ones. Souls love to be named and included as family. In my experience, when I give readings, Spirit validates a miscarriage, the souls make it a point to be named and remembered. For those of you who know my children, you may witness Giselle and Gabriel talking about Gideon and how he is in heaven watching them. Also, you may hear them describe their dreams and visits with Gideon. As for Andrea and me, we pray and talk with him often. Although I may not feel Gideon as I did the first time, he definitely leaves a trail of dinosaurs behind to show us he is present.

When Angels Speak, Listen

I give my kids and wife a kiss goodbye for the day as I walk out of the house. The morning sun shines through the rainy clouds on this Wednesday workday. Car keys in hand and a gym bag on my shoulders; I take a deep breath and drown my lungs in the fresh-rain smell. I get in my car and back out of the driveway. Kidd Kraddick’ Beat the Bank is on. “Your back pack, get your backpack,” I hear. By now, I should know better. When Spirit speaks, I normally listen; however, as a husband and father, selective listening often trumps. backpackI shake off the message. Twenty minutes later, I exit Hulen Street when I hear my Angels say, “Your backpack, get your backpack.” This time, I see my Eddie Bauer, red and black backpack in my mind’s eye. “There is no way I forgot my backpack this time,” I reassure myself. A month ago, I forgot my backpack that stores my work laptop. I made what I thought were idiot-proof steps to prevent forgetting my work laptop again. I arrive at work, open the truck, only to realize my backpack is missing. “Damn it!” I cowardly admit my mistake and send a text to my boss, “I am here at the parking lot. I just noticed I left my laptop at home. I will be an hour late,” I type. I apologize not only to my boss, but to Spirit. I was most bothered that I did not listen. When Spirit was speaking, I did not listen. I permitted logic to override my inner guidance. All too often, I encounter similar stories. As a medium, I merely validate the awesomeness of Spirit to friends and clients.

A friend recently shared a new article she stumbled across. Inquisitr.com reports that on April 23, 2015, a wife in Utah was overwhelmed by a “funny feeling”. The reporter chronicles Nicole Mayhew’s story (see story). After a couple of hours of subsiding her intuition, she surrendered to her guidance, took off work, only to find her husband trapped under their SUV. Nicole’s husband had been trapped under their SUV for an hour and half and suffered six broken ribs. She tells reporters, “I just believe a spirit told me.” “I believe that there’s angels around us. My Heavenly Father was with him.”

Similarly, about two months ago, my brother shared a story that left my sister-in-law, my wife, and me completely amazed by God and His guardian angels. My brother and his crew were working overnight. After a long night, they headed back to their hotel. According to my brother, he usually sits in the front passenger seat and seldom wears his helmet while in the truck. This specific night, something told him to crawl in the back seat, behind the driver, and put on his helmet. He recalls, “Something just told me to take the back seat.” Minutes after he closed his eyes, he woke up to the sound of glass shattering. Heavy railroad equipment had penetrated the front window of the truck and utterly dismantled the passenger side. Had my brother been in the front passenger seat as he was accustomed, he is absolutely confident that he would have died. My brother, a chronic skeptic, this time innately surrendered to his intuition. “It was abuela,” I told him, our grandmother. She was with him that night.

When I work with clients and friends, passed-love ones often validate the nudges, or signs they give to help intervene. “Yes, what you felt/what you saw was real,” I enthusiastically confirm. “Yes, the number 444 or 44 is a sign of her communicating with you,” I recently shared with a friend. “The number 444 or 44 means Guardian Angels are with you.” On a separate occasion, I shared with a client that I heard R. Kelly’s “I believe I can fly”. At the time of the reading, my client could not make a connection. A few weeks after, she confirmed she randomly heard it. At the moment she heard the song, the situation around her suddenly made sense. Her passed-loved one validated that precise moment. Last week while sharing drinks with a buddy, I said, “Yes, that feeling you have regarding organizing a hunting trip with your cousins is real. Your grandfather keeps showing me this very specific hunting gun. Your grandfather is giving you that nudge to organize the hunting trip. He completely supports the idea.”

In both Nicole Mayhew’s and my brother’s case, Spirit, inner guidance, inner voice, or Guardian Angels (whatever your preference may be), triumphed. When I am channeling a passed-love one, I simply validate that funny feeling you may have, those subtle divine nudges, or oddly recurring “signs” you are seeing. Trust your intuition. Trust your inner compass. Trust in Spirt. Trust in Him. You may not pay attention the first time, or you may ignore it altogether; however, when spirit speaks, take it from me, and listen.