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While recording stories for the book, "A Little Door ,
A Little Light,??? I made it a habit to pray before I
arrived at a home to record a story.
I was working with sensitive material. These were personal
true stories and all involved heavenly intervention. They
were about encounters with angels, Near Death Experiences,
After Death Communications, Visions and stories that
indicated the power of prayer. The stories were not usually
spoken of outside of family circles yet they were glorious
and they well demonstrated there was indeed life after
death. Because the stories were so very special I wanted to
be sure that my frame of mind was good and that I was open
to all that would be said. I knew that God was watching over
the project and I felt prayer was essential.
On this one particular day I went to a schoolteacher's home
to record her story. I had heard the story once already on
the phone, then we set up this meeting so I could officially
record everything in her words. I was so rushed that day and
I missed saying a prayer.
I arrived, set up the recording equipment and as I looked up
at her, ready to begin I was dismayed to see her body
language was communicating something negative. She sat there
leaning back, with arms folded, and said ???Okay what
exactly do you plan on doing with this story????
Everything about her question including the way she was
sitting screamed lack of trust and skepticism.
I was dismayed and puzzled. On the phone she had been open
and friendly. Her question threw me. Why was she asking what
I was going to do with her story? I told her on the phone I
was going to publish a book of stories. She had been
agreeable and now she was suspicious and closed.
The answer hit me like a brick! I neglected to pray. We
needed the spirit to be with us, yet we only had friction
and contention. I felt sick and unsure how to proceed. I
felt so ashamed of myself. I am sure that I was being
reminded that the project I was working on had God??™s seal of
approval and he was very much in control. I was the laborer
but he was the architect and he knew the plans. I searched
my mind for a solution.
Since the teacher was not interested in talking, I began
talking, about my son, Jason. I spoke of his life, those 17
wonderful years. I remembered Jason and his great interest
in others, his caring attitude. Then I spoke of his death
and the devastating feeling of being separated from him. I
talked to her about the day in the church, three months
after Jason's death, when Jason returned to speak to me. I
began to relive the very event. My heart and my arms were
aching for the only son I ever had, now gone from my life.
At that point I broke down in front of the lady.
My voice shook and sobs racked my body as I relived that
time in the church when God sent Jason to comfort me. I had
felt so lost so full of loneliness and pain.
I was standing, waiting to leave the church that day, spent
from the hour of sobbing, (both for the family of the
deceased and for myself) knowing that never again would I
hold my son in my arms and hug his tall six foot-two frame.
Seventeen years was not enough time. I remembered thinking,
???I??™ve lost him. I??™ll never hold my son again.??? And then I
felt my son??™s presence, smelled the aftershave that he had
always loved and heard his voice. "You have not lost me mom.
I am still here."
I tried to continue talking to the schoolteacher as I sat
there in her home reliving those moments but I was so
emotionally overwhelmed, I couldn??™t speak further. I wanted
to tell her that he visited me again the next day but I
could only sob.
The schoolteacher, unfolded her arms and reached across to
console me. Gently she touched my wrist. I could see tears
glistening in her eyes. She understood, for she too had
walked the path of grief.
I knew, in that single touch, the spirit had returned to be
with us in that room.
In opening up to her, she saw my pain and vulnerability. She
recognized something she needed to know. I had reached her
spirit and all barriers were removed.
That day. I was reminded of the importance of prayer. I was
reminded that I needed my Heavenly Father to be with me each
time I recorded these special stories. On subsequent visits
with others, I prayed before the sessions and I never had a
repeat of the visit with the school teacher. The book was
completed and the lesson will be remembered!
Ellie Braun-Haley
shaley@telusplanet.net
The book A LITTLE DOOR, A LITTLE LIGHT by Ellie Braun-Haley
with Shawn Haley was published by Eagle Creek Publishers.
That website is under construction and contact for books
must be made to Ellie at shaley@telusplanet.net
or by going to Amazon.com
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