Broken no more.

We all experience brokenness in ways familiar, unfamiliar and downright surprising, and most of us tend to feel shame when the scars of such an experience start to mark us.

I remember, about six or seven years ago now, one late evening I got a phone call from my siblings back home announcing me that our mother was ill and in the hospital. I was in bed already finishing a Bible study homework due the next morning at the women’s Bible study I used to attend for many years. But as I ended the conversation and began praying, my words were caught mid-sentence, never finishing my prayer because I began to see something God wanted me to see- a reassurance I’ll never forget.

I saw my mother with the help of this vision and I went inside her body and traveled like a small speck of dust within her circulatory system all throughout her body, seeing shadows in places representing illness and a normal light where health existed. In a blink of an eye, a liquid light brilliant like gold and diamond wrapped in thousands of acres of sparkles began moving quickly through her veins, her tissues, ner nervous system and as I watched a whisper spoke: She’ll be alright, don’t worry, the light will cure her. Then it was over and I never worried about her outcome knowing full well she would be fine.

When broken, the light of God moves within you eager to fill the holes and the cracks, creating a piece of art unexpectedly more different than your pre-conceived notions ever expected. If you take an honest look at it, you’ll allow yourself to see the same beauty God’s sees, it may look very different than your pre-conceived notion of beautiful, perfect, put together, normal, secure etc but it does not mean it’s any less radiant… if you just look you may just see its brilliance, and that’s when you’ll be able to really smile with a smile of pure joy and tell yourself…broken no more.

God Bless:)

Do it anyway.

How many of us have helped someone who took advantage of your kind heart? I’m sure there are some invisible hands raised, mine including.

Do it anyway, especially those who are ambassadors of Jesus. Showing love, forgiveness, mercy, and patience is not the same as letting others walk all over you, because what you give freely can’t be taken. In the past, I had many discouraging moments and felt much fatigue after people took advantage of my good intentions, but God’s been teaching me to “do it anyway”. In the beginning, I didn’t understand the importance of such advise, and I’m sure I haven’t completely grasped its benefits even today, but I have learned a few things along the way.

  1. When “I did it anyway” by choosing freely (not guilted into, manipulated, or forced) to show love and mercy, since forgiveness was a lesson I would learn it later on in the midsts of the great sadness of 2014-2016 which was the worst part of illness time, what I was really doing was to train my heart, train it to be more flexible, bendable and malleable, positive properties of one’s soul which God can work with. A hard, rigid and bitter heart, shatters when help comes in a form of constructive criticism, conviction or new information.
  2. When “I did it anyway” I made friends and not enemies, memories and not grievances.
  3. When “I did it anyway”, I chose my action but didn’t have to worry if the outcome was not as I expected, that responsibility was not mine to shoulder.
  4. When “I did it anyway”, I taught better lessons to my children.
  5. When “I did it anyway” I became closer to God.
  6.  When “I did it anyway”, even when it was hard, I protected my family’s hearts from anger and bitterness, a poison more deadly than most of us realize.
  7. When “I did it anyway”, without realizing, I collected favors which were returned at the most opportune time,  favors such as your prayers while too weak to fight alone in my own battles, favors like encouraging words when I had no strength left to encourage myself, favors like reminding me the right way when I was too scared and confused to see that way myself, but mostly the favor of life:) So do it anyway and see what happens in the long run. Life will not be void of pain, but it the midst of pain you will not lack friends and love, something far more precious than we realize.  God Bless:)

Introverts and Extroverts

My orchard (my resting place) had a simple wood bench under one tree, and I sat there waiting for God today. He came and looked exactly like the religious images I’ve seen through the years have portrayed him: a young man with a long beard and hair dressed in a long gray rope. He reached out and took my hand. We both got up and before taking one step further he changed into an identical version of myself when I was ten years of age. I was suddenly ten years old as well. Hand in hand we skipped and laughed with the purest touches of laughter and the richest form of happiness.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Why do we need to go somewhere in order to be?” And he/she reminded me of something I once knew: as a child, you go nowhere but you are.  And that’s where happiness, contentment, love in its purest of forms, acceptance of everyone, embracing the new, trusting, eagerness to learn and explore, ability to change mind and will if necessary, lives.

Its as if somewhere is an extrovert rushing on the road to nowhere, passing by be millions of times, blind to the importance of stopping and having a relationship together. Soon the rushing shallows, emties, frustrates, closes somewhere’s mind, making it rigid. Every time somewhere passes an opportunity to be, loses a potential for growth until its very essence is dipleated of health and sickness of the mind, soul and spirit settle.

Be, on the other hand, has time to live, to think, to love and to express the importance of many things. Be slows time down and listens, but needs somewhere once it knows its purpuse. Be is an introvert.

Be and somewhere are better together than apart, and our western culture glorifies somewhere while marginalizing be. It’s a big imbalance which leads to all sorts of pain and loss. They’re equally important.

For those who read this and are a bit uncomfortable with the phrasing (may seem new-age to you), God wants you to be at ease and gives you evidence in the Bible for what I’ve written above.

Psalm 46:10; Exodus 14:14; Psalm 62:5; Proverbs 8:34; Luke 24:2; these are only a few of the many Bible verses that go along to what he showed me. I understand its a new point of approach but we both know God speaks in many ways to all of us. That’s the beauty of it all.

God Bless:)

For you

Not sure who needs to read these words, but here I go.

For the one that’s hurting, with tears of sorrow and discouragement running down your face and heart, from yet another blow life just hit you with:

Picture the outcome you want and in due time it will come to pass. The road will not be void of pain, struggles, and failures, but it will not be void of success, victory, and hope either. You must fight for the outcome you’re picturing and never doubt you’re not strong enough:)

God Bless:)

 

Protest

Last weekend the annual women’s protest happened again and besides hatred towards the current president and the right to abort an unborn baby, I’m not quite sure what else are they protesting for, because the last time I checked we still lived in America where women have far more rights than most women combined in other parts of this world.

Personally, the vaginal hats and F*** signs are extremely insulting to me, but don’t worry that does not define me as a woman; my children do, my husband does and other things that have nothing to do with profanity and genital hats.

I’ll tell you a story- my story.

I was born with few health issues.

For one thing, my reproductive organs did not fall into place as they should’ve and my mother was told I would not be able to have children.

My Fontanella (the soft spot between the parietal bones and frontal bone) was bulged out- the doctor said I was going to be a retard or an idiot, in other words neurologically I was going to be slower than the norm. The Fontanella it looked and felt like jello and my mother hardly touched me for the first few months after birth for fear of hurting me further. So I lacked the bonding time, very important and necessary to a healthy development, but life was different back then and information was lacking.

I also had a severe vitamin D deficiency and I began having regular shots of vitamin D right away that lasted a whole year. These were among the issues that were visible right away and the doctor pressured my mother to have me aborted after I was born, worried that my quality of life would be a burden to the medical system and Marxist society in which I was born. I was a defect product and needed to be discarded so I would not become a useless eater. My mother vehemently refused.

“God’s will be done.” She tolled herself accepting the outcome, but if I wasn’t going to recover I was in danger of a “vaccine shot” that was nothing short of a euthanize method. I did recover.

At home, I grew up in pretty harsh poverty, mostly between the age of 5-19. We went many days in “involuntarily fasting” whether we liked it or not, but for that now some of us are rounder than we’d like to be:) God, yes God, took care of us. That is what I choose to believe, despite the skepticism of others.

We also went through physical and emotional trauma, abuse and at times torture methods until the day each and every one of us left home. Emotionally, if we give way the emotional abuse would continue to this very moment, but all of us have chosen peace, so we have departed from the source of the abuse.

So from many people’s modern standards of today, I should’ve been aborted. After all I had too many physical issues putting a burden on the family or society, I was born in extreme poverty (Eastern Europe poverty), and raised in a very abusive family environment. I fit most of the reasons given for an abortion, right?

Yet, I’m thankful for every day on this earth despite its hardships. I thank God every day for his love towards me shown mostly through other people, some of which are reading these words. We see the goodness in others. We see hate in others as well. So choose. I’ve chosen. I stand for life.

I do not judge anyone who had an abortion- I wasn’t in your shoes when you made the decision and it’s not my place to judge what I don’t know. But I do know the fetus is a living being and I’ve always fought for the underdog. Its just part of my character and I will continue to do so.

God Bless.

 

Carmen the…

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First picture; left to right, me in my second or third grade, clearly uncomfortable:)

Second picture; Chet and I on our wedding day. The malnourishment made me light:)

Third picture; my family as of last week, Chet, Merrill, Alex and Meleah:)

Writing about one self its a bit deceiving; you’re either too biased or too hard on yourself and overall one sided.

I’ve had a few nick-names so its hard to pick just one. Is it Carmen the Dreamer, the Writer, the Fighter, the Captain or the Ice Queen? It’s all of them, I suppose.

Born the first of twelve siblings, my life was both wonderful and hard. My birth wasn’t without its challenges. Shots of Vit. D and Iron for the first year or so, along other health issues somehow gave the doctor the right to pressure my mother into killing me. It wasn’t just my health issues that triggered such a decision but compiled to that it was his deep hatered towards christians. You see, I was a seedling of a very hated group of people in my part of the world at the time and I was not alone. In an atheistic world, being born a Christian was dangerous, and we have the scars to prove it.

A “sensitive soul”, with an over-developed ability or gift of empathy I collected other’s pain in my heart as if my life depended on it. The society’s abuse towards us made sense to me- we were a moral danger to a movement that thrived on egocentricity and cruelty. But our father’s abuse towards us never made sense to me. In times when one must stick with each other in an environment called “home”, meaning “safe”, he became our number one enemy, burning all my ideologies on “safe home” right out of my heart. However, beyond reasons I couldn’t understand and logic I couldn’t explain, except to call it hope, with every rare smile, joke or laughter my father had, a fragile hope seed grew in my heart “maybe he’ll change”. The hope lasted no longer than mere fragments of time until the next wave of darkness took a hold of him. Books, that’s where I found my refuge, not church, society or social interactions. That’s where I could dream freely and imagine the world I wanted to live in. I think I was a bit of a loner, yet with a great deal of charisma.

Being the oldest, I worked constantly skipping on childhood and adolescence all together.

Right after high school, I began working twelve hours shifts, seven days a week at an ice-cream and soda-pop kiosk, very popular at the time. I was very greatful for my $6 a month salary, it was similar to my father’s salary. I was not allowed to go to collage, due to my gender and lack of money, something that made me very bitter at the time.

God to me was just another tyrant figure, unhappy, abusive, not nice at all, yet someone I kept on hearing that somehow “loved me.” I wanted nothing to do with this God but didn’t dare communicate that to my parents. A missionary changed all that. He brought along with him stories of a very powerful and nice God, similar to Jesus in the New Testament (the church loved the mean and angry Old Testament God) and I fell in love for the very first time with God. Willingly, I wanted to have a relationship with this new image of God, not the one in the church. I began a new walk, a happy and light walk with God.

After the 1989 fall of communism revolution in most of the Estern European block, charitable help came into the country in the form of clothes, shoes, and monthly food supplies. “If I ever get rich, I’ll do the same.” A prayer shot up to the heavens from a thankful heart and put in practice soon after.

In 1993 I was rescued by this super handsome and tall young man, Chet, who was part of a missionary team from America. The engagement and wedding was a big source of gossip and wonder. We married on August 15th, in Romania. A very unusual wedding since the bride and groom couldn’t talk to each other:) Leaving Romania and coming to America on October 15th, was one of the most stressful things I lived through. Not because of Chet, my new husband, but everything else: leaving my family, who I no longer could protect, entering a new land with new traditions I din’t understand and no one familiar to communicate with. Halloween was a weird and dark first impression of American holidays, only the small kids dressed in cute costumes brought a smile to my face, all other gore did not. My parents-in-law were a hugeeeeee support during that time.

I had my first born, Merrill, in 1995, followed quickly by my second, Meleah, in 1996 and then our surprise, Alex, in 1993, (I was pregnant with Alex when I flew back to Romania to see Fanu in the hospital, but I did not know I was pregnant). I had a few jobs: babysitting, sells rep at the Gap, preschool teacher, writer, real-estate agent, home design and massage therapist. I’ve never been more fulfilled in my work field, like when I’m writing.

Most of you know that in January of 2014, I fell ill, an illness that almost took my life and I’m still fighting it, getting better each day, with the occasional relapses, which are still far too often than I like to admit.

I’m very happy now, even if in pain most days. Every day I’m greatful to God for allowing me another day on this wonderful planet and among my loved ones. Life is very normal, and calm (I need to keep it calm and stress-free) and mundane but I love it:) Thank you God for my life:)

 

Oana the Baby:)

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Number twelve, Oana is the baby and no matter how tough she presents herself, to us she’ll always remain the baby:) She’s the last one of the clan and my father’s weakness. Oana learned quickly how to work my father and did so without hesitation:) During his “angry episodes” she stayed away and kept quiet, avoiding getting hurt. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for her to see her siblings getting hurt, the way they did. Since early adolescence she became a mother figure in the house (since my mother lived mostly in Vilcele) taking care of the house, cleaning, washing, cooking and baking. She bossed her older brothers around any chance she had, standing up for herself or be left out in the dust. Oana learned at an early age to be tough and speak her mind- loudly:) She also had her older brothers there to protect her, if needed, which was a fantastic advantage.

After high-school Oana worked shorty as a waitress at a local restaurant, then went to Italy/Roma and helped out Delia, who worked long hours as a nurse putting long hours in. Oana took care of Delia’s children, cooked and cleaned. Eventually Delia found her a job taking care of an elderly lady, until she got married.

Oana met Alex, her husband, on the same Christian single site “Pom Verde” as her other brothers did with their spouses. The wedding was in 2014, a wedding I could not attend due to illness. Finding work, after the wedding, in Romania was tough and Alex looked for work outside their country’s borders. Eventually he found a job in Munchen, Germany and heavy hearted left a pregnant wife behind in Romania, seeing each other only through rare visits.

Alin, who lived on hour away, visited Alex when possible and upon seeing the shady neighborhood Alex lived in and the poverty level, Alin made its mission to find Alex another job. Eventually he did find one job in Ulm, Germany, and Alex moved in with Alin, able now to bring Oana there and reunite the family. Six months later they had twin girls, an excellent and positive surprise. You see, on either side of the families, we don’t have twins in the gene. The best moments in Oana’s life was holding her girls in her arms right after delivery and she fell instantly in love with her girls. Alex, who wanted girls over boys, got his girls:) Alin gained a family and young nieces as well:)

Eventually they were able to move into their own apartment and together they have a happy life. Alex works as a trucker and Oana loves being a mother and a housewife. Cooking and baking are her specialities and you can tell by the growing bellies of both her husband and Alin’s, who eats there almost daily:)

When I left, Oana was one year old and I only knew about Oana based on the information I received when I talked on the phone with my family or from the few visits we did to Romania. But I gained a lot of respect once I found out she was pregnant with twins. Somehow I saw that as a special blessing God put in her life. Seeing what a good mother and wife she is makes me a proud big sis and even though we haven’t spent a lot of face to face time together, I’m looking forward to do so in the future:)

What an awesome family I have:)

Thank you God for every singe one of my brother and sister:)

Fanu the Powerful

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1991-2002

Death comes to us all, how you greeted makes all the difference.

Fanu, short for Stefan, was the last Damean son, and number eleven in the long line of siblings. He entered this world in December 1991 and left it far too early.

Fanu had a generally calm personality, loved playing with his small cars, usually with his brother Alex, and loved to dream together about their future. Soccer was another game he practiced often in the dusty apartment courtyard of a gray and small town full of factory workers’ children. Life, as he knew it, was satisfactory even if at times shadowed by his father’s angry episodes. Fanu was still at an age where that meant little, just another day in his life, unaware of the grievances abuse brings once you understand what’s happening. In that regard he was spared.

A very competitive character, with a very giving nature, always making big plans of charitable gestures towards someone he loved or was in need. Unfortunately, we’ll never know what his life would’ve been like, but in a way he’s free of pain and sorrow now.

In the spring of 2002 (February) Fanu began having splitting headaches with a tremendous amount of pain around his left temporal area and began isolating himself in dark corners of the apartment. My mother took him to the local clinic where, without a proper examination, was prescribed some medication. It did not work. His fever became alarmingly high while the pain persisted and my mom took him to the local hospital. He was admitted for two weeks getting a daily dose of antibiotics (ampicillin) shots. He then was discharged but a few weeks later (March) when his fever and pain returned with a vengeance my mom and Delia took him to the emergency. Instead of admitting him the doctor in charge sent them to the contagious diseases hospital in Hunedoara. There they had to wait quit a bit, despite the fact that Fanu, now lying on a hospital bed in the waiting room, was crying complaining of intense pain on his left temporal zone. Upon examination the doctor discovered a partial facial paralysis on his left, and sent them immediately to a hospital in Timisoara specializing in contagious diseases and also known to be a good hospital. He was moved back and forth between couple hospitals (intensive care, neurology, contagious diseases) in Timisoara and misdiagnosed quite a bit. From being able to take small walks in the hospital’s court-yard anytime Alin visited, within weeks he became completely paralyzed, unable to eat solids while constantly on IV. The next time Fanu came back home, he was resting in a coffin.

In Timisoara’s hospitals he waisted away rapidly until May 27th when he died. My mom spent countless hours around the clock by his side, relived temporarily so she could rest by Delia and my brother Alin. By the time I came to see him he shrunk in size and all musculature mass was gone, he was paralyzed and no longer could talk, communicating by writing messages on pieces of paper. He was literally skin and bone and I could see the shape of his heart while beating, lifting a very thin layer of white and dry skin. He was no longer recognizable, only when I looked in his eyes I could see Fanu, the man. The suffering matured him tremendously. The diagnosis was never firmly found, but the whole thing began from a puss matter in his brain who by the end of his life spread all over his body in cancerous masses. Alin got really close to Fanu during that time. A few weeks before dying, no longer able to speak, Fanu managed to let my mother know that he knew he was dying. Grief stricken my mother kept telling him he’ll get better. Fanu insisted and by third time, Fanu asked my mother to open the door, because he wanted to go through. My mom opened his door in his room or the bathroom door.

“Not that one mom, the other one.” He would write while pointing to the ceiling.

“My boy, there’s not a door there, that’s the ceiling.”

“Sure there is, mom. There’s a long staircase with two angles waiting on each side and a closed door/gate right before it. Can you open it, so I can go?” My mother understood then. Her little boy was dying and God was waiting for him. Few days later Alin came relieving my exhausted mother for a well needed night of rest. Fanu died during that night. Upon autopsy, was discovered that Fanu had a very high number of cancerous masses throughout his body. Along his spine alone the Chief of Medical Staff who did the autopsy herself found three different types of cancer. Every organ was affected by cancer. She then asked permission for a brain mass autopsy and the results excluded mono or encephalitis (earlier perceived diagnosis) but his brain matter was full of foreign looking tumors, something she’s never seen before. Samples of cancers cell from along his spine, brain and other organs were sent to France for further study but we’ve never heard anything back. The rest of my siblings were advised to take test relating their lung health, don’t remember specifically the name of the test, just in case. The one that did came back fine.

His funeral was big.

My mom’s grief was immense and she argued with God many days after words. Fanu was a big loss for the entire family, unexpected, fast and deeply painful, however I’m glad that he’s no longer suffering and he’s at peace. To us he’ll always remain powerful for the way he faced it all. He didn’t complain and seemed to want to easy our pain any way he could.

Fanu, we miss you forever!!!!!! And can’t wait to see you, but not yet. Not yet.

P.S Few months later, Alin began having similar symptoms and the whole family was devastated. He went and had an operation in Bucuresti and removed non-cancerous tumor mass from his sphenoid canal the size of the end of a finger, formed due to stress and dust. The surgery was a success:)

Thank you God for our Fanu and the time we had with him. Thank you for allowing him to be with us even if for a small period of time. I’m truly grateful. Thank you for my family:)

 

FLAVIUS the Brave

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Born the seventh in the family, Flesh (nickname) falls in the team of the brunettes along side myself, Alin, Iosif, Alex and Oana. The blond team is made of Sergiu, Marius, Delia, Tibi, Iulian and Fanu.

Flavius was a cute boy, with great dimples in every smile, energetic and full of humor. His adolescence was filled with great humor and lots of energy, hiding a boy that got frequently panicked and stomach pains from the stress of the abuse.

His last year of high-school he left for Germany and lived with my brother Sergiu a few months, and together with Leo responded to a local newspaper add that were looking for soccer players. They both got in and quickly Flesh became the star player of the entire team with great professional prospects. Leo, who was interested only in the snacks provided after words got kicked out. The only thing standing in the way of fame and fortune was the paperwork. At the time Germany’s borders were not so open like today and the paperwork stopped Flesh’s progress forcing him to return back to Romania. After finishing high school he moved with Alin in Arad. There he finished four years of collage in engineering. He met his wife, Adina in Ilia, while in collage and got married after he graduated then together they settled down in Timisoara. Together they have one daughter.

Adina works in the marketing/ computer field and Flesh is a radio host/presenter at a Christian Radio Station in Timisoara, rve.timisoara, and very involved in the local church they attend.

The past five years a big shadow of health challenges have put a lot of stress on his shoulders and he spend more days in emergency than all of his siblings put together. He’s had operations and multiple tests. In the end there’s still no diagnosis. But stress in general is an enemy of his, weakening his immune system.

Lately he’s been feeling well, but I think he has to watch his diet and stress level constantly.

Our potentially famous soccer player has a very domestic life in the church and his radio work:) He also had to forgive a lot but life is good and we’re moving on:)

I’m glad when I hear his health is good and I’m looking forward to see what their future will bring along:)

 

When in pain, one writes

Yes, I’m in quite a lot of pain today, but don’t fuss, it will pass and life moves on. I figured since today it will be spent mostly in bed, I may as well write.

Long before I knew what a Solar Plexus was, I felt it. Every time my father yelled, I felt it. Every time my father hit one of us, I felt it. With every cry of pain, I felt it. With every criticism, I felt it.

Solar plexus aka Celiac Plexus aka Abdominal Brain – is a complex of ganglia (or network of nerves) and radiating nerves of the sympathetic system (fight and flight response) at the pit of the stomach.-Wikipedia

Heal this and you’ll heal adrenal problems, stomach problems, gall bladder problems, diaphragm problems, spleen problems and much more. (Chakras.info; solework.wordpress.com)

It took forty-two years for me to understand why every-time I was around other people I “saw” certain things about them – information that came in different forms such as: colors/lights, a string of clear yet seemingly unrelated images about that particular person’s life or that strong sense of danger/unease/happiness/relaxation one gets around certain individuals – affecting me one way or another, depending on what I “saw” or perceived. I also learned something else: Anytime I felt a perceived danger I would hold my breath. I was not aware I did that until one naturopathic doctor pointed it out. It was my way of coping with trauma or stressful circumstances. It began early in my childhood while witnessing a lot of my father’s abuse towards my siblings and my self. I held my breath. This happens when trauma or excessive stress is present in the early stages of childhood. It changes the structure of one’s DNA and neurological responses. Most people call such a result as “highly sensitive people”. Some are just born that way and no trauma was present, others develop this sensitivity forced by traumatic environments. In reality we’re all sensitive to pollutants/toxicity and stress. The difference is that some can shoulder these burdens better that’s others and it’s directly linked to a strong immune system versus not.

“That’s New Age talk, Carmen.” Some would say, after reading these lines. I was raised in a very strict conservative Christian environment (not all aspects of Christianity beliefs are wrong, but anything presented in a strict and extreme way is usually unhealthy) made to belief anything remotely related to New Age is evil. So I kept quiet about the things I “saw”/perceived knowing full well I would be accused of demon possession. I believe a lot of New Age theology comes from Biblical information but the movement added other things to it.

For forty- years, no stranger could get close to me without me feeling uncomfortable. Hugs to this day are hard for me and any conversation is done from a safe distance. If anyone violates that “safe zone” between us my flight or fight response super activates – although I lived only in a fight or flight response for years.  This has been medically proven by the tests I’ve had these past four years. My body could no longer relax. I’ve forgotten how.

Like a can of worms this perception exploded and jumped past few stages of teaching in massage school. I noticed certain things and had to ask my teachers for an explanation. Upon hearing the things I saw, my teachers simply responded with a genuine smile on their faces: “Carmen, you’ve got a gift.” I do? I thought to myself.

Example: I gave a massage to one of my teachers- which was not nerve-racking at all:)))- and I saw a shadow over her right hip and left knee. I knew instantly those areas were hurt. Without thinking I asked:

“What happen to your right hip and left knee?” She popped her head off the pillow in shock, only to realize she never told me anything about her personal life.

“How do you know about that?”

“I can see it.”

“What exactly do you see?”

“Dark gray shadows with a glow of pale yellow over these areas. I also see…” But she interrupted me, maybe because she didn’t want to find out a student can reveal more personal stuff about her.

“I had a bad car accident about ten years ago and those areas never healed properly.”

“Okay.”

Example: Had a lady on the massage table and I saw intense loss and grief all over her body. She was a good person, burdened by the disease of loss and sickness- a sickening yellow/olive color. I gently told her “all will be alright.” As we began talking I found out she lost someone very dear and just overcame cancer. She was also a bit frightened by all the things I could see so I stopped talking. In the end, she tolled me: “You have a gift.” She left and I never saw her again. I believe I may have frightened her for which I’m truly sorry.

The Solar Plexus is a sensitive spot but a powerful center of information. I’m not sure what made me the way that I am, but I was born with this. I’ve seen many things, most of them horribly dark stuff. Trauma, may have triggered something -this is a theory of mine- or I was born with a gift from God. Either way, I still have a lot to learn and I get things wrong as well.

One thing I’ve learned to do, is not let this gifting hinder my personal relationships, especially my relationship with Chet. Trust me, it took many years to learn how to and I’m still not an expert. But if I meet you and you’re going through something, and I will be allowed to see that, instead of allowing my heart to be broken by your hurt days in a row, I’ll be praying for you earnestly than let God and yourself do the healing in your own way and timing. I’ve learned I can’t be God and don’t want to. But I will be your friend.

I’ve tried to give you a small overview of the solar plexus but there’s so much more to it. For those interested, the internet is full of information on the subject. I hope this helped some of you and did not at least was an interesting read.

God Bless:)