Clients often ask, “Were you always psychic?” Probably, but I wasn’t fully aware until eight years ago. However, there were always moments throughout my younger life that were certainly connected to spirituality. Let me share an episode that happened when I was only six.
My family was among the first to buy a house during our rural neighborhood’s infancy, which coincided with my starting first grade in 1968. With satchel in hand, I boarded the canary colored bus that transported me to Day One of elementary school. That afternoon, as my parents waited at our brick home’s front door, I got off of the bus and crossed its front path. Because of my small size, the driver, a retired farmer, failed to see me and released the brakes. Little did I know, but my parents did, wheels were rolling towards me. At the last second, my legs took a jubilant skip as the bus whizzed by, coming within mere inches of running over me. Screams exploded from my mother’s lungs as horrified parents sprinted down the driveway.
“Oh, my baby! Thank God you’re okay,” my mother said as she squeezed me like a stuffed animal won on the midway and then caressed my blonde cowlick. “You’re not hurt.” Trembling, she appeared to be afraid to let go of me.
Still oblivious to the earlier danger, I looked at my father, “Why is she upset, Daddy?”
Kneeling by my side in his short sleeve dress shirt and wide, paisley-print tie, my father asked, “Son, what made you take that little skip in the street just then when you got off the bus?”
“Something just told me to do it, so I did.”
“Something just told you?” my father replied, confused by my answer. He scratched his thick sideburns, “What do you mean by that?”
“I just heard the word, skip, so I did. That’s all, Daddy. Why?”
“You heard the word, skip?” he asked, still baffled.
He finally shrugged off my honest explanation, “Never mind, son. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”
In addition to my first grade teacher, Miss Harris, I also learned a lesson from my spiritual guide as well.
Love and light,