Post-war 1950’s was a time of prosperity. My hometown of 30,000 was a safe place to grow-up. People left the doors unlocked and children could walk or ride bicycles anywhere. Milk and bread were delivered. Specialized markets provided meat, pastries and produce. Everyone, who I knew, had two parents. We went to school and church, regardless of the weather. Chains were put on rear wheel drive buses and cars for traction. Trunks held a sand pail and shovel for emergencies.

If this sounds too idyllic, it is. During this time was the Korean War and Cold War with Russia. We lived under the threat of nuclear attack. Civil Defense mobilized locally, encouraging every home to build an air raid shelter. Municipal buildings, including schools, were designated as public shelters. Beside fire drills, each school participated in air raid drills. We would file to the hallway, away from glass, crouch and cover our heads with our hands. I was terrified that a bomb would strike and I would die, or be separated from my sister and parents. Perhaps, that explains why I am intrigued by the supernatural, mediums and psychics.

Raised Catholic, I attended weekly Catechism classes during the school year. A nun from the Sisters of Mercy order taught the class. In those days, the sisters wore full habits that gave them a penguin appearance. Only their faces were visible. In those days, children were afraid of ruler wielding grown-ups of authority. A call to parents was terrifying. We were a compliant bunch.

One day during catechism class, the nun explained déjà vu, as recognition of a person, place or event that we had seen before birth, when a veil was placed over us to forget. I had never heard the term and was sure it was untrue, but the story stuck, unlike everything else in eight years of religious training.

Looking back at the strict rules of Catholicism and the denial of psychic capabilities, I wonder if the nun was teaching her own radical belief. Another puzzling contradiction is that some priests are trained as exorcists.

All of us possess ability to connect with God, Source, Allah or whatever name you prefer to call the supreme love of creation. A simple look around shows that miracles abound. The one that races my heart is that we are spinning on a molten core rock, in an endless universe, with no strings attached, kept alive with earth, fire, air and water.

My skills are not honed, but I knew things about my life that came to pass.  At age 10, I predicted my grandmother’s death. When I was engaged, I told my husband to be that I would have two sons. Although I avoided risky sports to avoid breaking my leg, I finally did it on a cruise. Involvement in cancer deaths, weighed heavily on my mind. I witnessed the passing of my father, mother and husband. All succumbed to cancer. Thinking about someone and receiving a phone call, text or email is a frequent occurrence. You may have similar experiences that you shrugged off as coincidental.

Many yearn to know how things will turn out, instead of letting them unfold like the petals of a flower. Our Earthly journeys flow like a river. Until the transition to the other side, challenges and learning opportunities continue. In my darkest hours, I asked for enough light to take the next step. Sometimes they were baby-sized, but I trusted my inner voice and moved forward, one foot in front of the other.

My message is about faith, hope and trust. Look within for guidance. Follow the light. It will lead you to love and your highest good.