44 | thedrunkenmedium

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. I 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.

On April 29, 2015, the Oncologist matter-of-factly states, “The bone cancer has gotten worse. The chemotherapy has been fully maximized. I need to look at other options to prevent the cancer from spreading even more.” Her words reverberate in my ears as I try to find my footing and stay grounded. My mother was diagnosed with G.I. cancer stage IV in December 2013. The G.I. cancer metastasized into her bones, concentrating in her head and chest. She lies on the examining table and to get clarification in her native tongue, “Qué dice,” she asks me (“What did she say?”) Immediately I go down the negative path; the path that questions His will; the path that cannot fathom a world without her. It is venom that quickly consumes my soul. Everything I am, all that I have become is because of my mother. My prayers are inflated balloons that burst far too soon. I regularly pray, use affirmative prayer, thanking God, angels, abuela, Archangel Rafael to curing my mother’s cancer, for alleviating her pain, and surrounding her in God’s white light. As the poisonous serum quenches my blood, I feel my heart hit my chest wall and my temporal vein throb as a sweat bead glazes over my head. “The majority of my patients in her similar condition don’t last longer than four months, and they certainly do not have the quality of life that your mom has. It is God’s mercy at this point.” I remember even with stage IV cancer, my mother is still vivacious, runs around with the children, attends soccer games, and on rare occasions mentions pain or discomfort. I notice the yellow flower in my mind’s eye, my symbol for abuela, and I noticed a light-green hue around my mother, “Thank you guys,” I whisper. Instantaneously, my anger dissipates. God, abuela, and Archangel Rafael humbled me, planted my feet on solid ground, and refocused me. I am left grounded and at peace.

I am fortunate to recognize the signs that quickly change my perspective on things. We all struggle to see the good amidst the bad. In the darkest of nights, the rainiest of days, we know the sun is out there, but sometimes the darkness seeps into every cell of our body, every follicle of hair, so that we are left blinded by the darkness that we cannot see the sun. God, angles and loved ones who have passed are always there. They are guiding us, protecting us, and sending us unconditional love. Signs exist. Love ones communicate with us.

Recently, I had the opportunity to channel Baby Marie. Client, I will call “Carrie,” approached me to do a reading. I felt a baby girl came through. She showed me a birthday candle and I heard her name. “Carrie” was able to validate the name and her miscarriage. In her chaos, internal storm, her baby girl was coming through to tell her mother exactly what she needed to hear. She provided reassurance that her current state did not align with her higher self. Baby Marie also reminded her mother of the importance of reconnecting mind, body, and soul. Words that, only when delivered by a loved one on the other side, could penetrate the darkest chasm and provide a ray of light.

Loved ones who have passed use many symbols to try to make their presence known. I have a friend who read my blog prior to my debut. I could tell she wanted to ask me about her loved one that passed over. I have felt her relative “knock at my door” but I never answered for the fear of outing myself. My friend told me about her connection with the number 4, and 44. Ever since her relative passed, she has noticed that number follow her. Anytime she is down or unsure on her next steps, she looks up and sees a 44. “It means guardian angels are looking after you. Your relative is following you, guiding you.” I saw an imaginary ton lift from her back and her light bulb turn on. She feels her relative’s presence, recognizes the signs, but was too afraid to accept it. I just merely validated what she has felt all along.

After my mother and I left the hospital, I shared the information I witnessed in the examining room. Her darkness quickly brightens. Although she is aware that abuela (my grandmother and her mother) is with her, she enjoys hearing me confirm it as often as I can. It energizes her. Her happiness oozes out of her soul so much that I feel it. So instead of wallowing in sadness and anticipate death, I commit myself to enjoying the days God blesses us with her; to enjoy more hamburgers, ice cream, tamales, enjoy more moments gathered around her small house, and the endless food she doles out. We leave the hospital, pick up my children, and enjoy a nice lunch and blizzard at Dairy Queen. In this moment, I thank God, abuela, the angels for our impromptu lunch, with my mother. I am grounded and at peace.