As a young child of maybe six seven years old, I never quite felt close to the spiritual world, most likely because it is near impossible for a child of that age to wrap their mind around something so unreal, so mysterious, so large and if I am not mistaken, children have other things to wrap their minds around; things like playing, pretending, the early years of drama at school.
Now, being thirteen, with the purity of childhood still fresh in my mind, I can tell you that a personal relationship with god is the last thing on a child's mind. But still, our family is christian, and we would sometimes go to the eleven o'clock mass at our local church. I would sit there, wondering what being there was all about. Slightly bored, severely confused, and maybe a bit scared, I would try and follow along with the confusing songs, but never got anywhere, especially since I was far from being able to read fast enough. But being a child of large imagination and intelligence, I was stumped at how this "worship" was getting me anywhere in life. I wasn't understanding what God was and why this singing and mumbled praying made me any closer to him. But I tried my best to participate.
Also, being a child of adoption, I had a little bit of trouble with separation from things. Now, its no big deal, and I have pretty much gotten over my pack-rat lifestyle. But anyway, from the day I was taken home from my biological mother, I had a stuffed animal that I could not spend a second of my life without. I took "her" everywhere. I had grown very close to it, and I still remember exactly what it looked like, how it smelt, the lumps and mats in its worn out fur I can still feel.
In early January, 1999, I woke up one morning without it. I have no idea to this day what happened to it, but I remember how miserable I was. My mother and I turned the house up-side-down looking for it, and yet, we could find nothing. I was so sad, I wouldn't talk to anyone for a whole week, all I wanted was for this small thing I held so dear to me to come back. I tried my best to stay up all night for that week, my childish imagination telling me the soft rabbit with the missing eye would come running back to me in the middle of the night.
Of course, being 5 years old, I could only stay up until about 8. I tried everything I could to find "her", but nothing. Gone, forever. Early January, 1999, was the first time in my life I was truly sad, and it was the absolute worst I had ever felt in my entire life. The soft rabbit I had taken comfort in since my biological mother handed me to my real mother two days after being taken home from the hospital was the most important object in my early life. I missed that rabbit so much, and, as pathetic as it sounds, the scar it left is still there. Mostly, I believe that I projected my feelings about being adopted onto this small, delicate toy, and that is why it was so very dear to me. (I have always known about being adopted)
I never forgot this, but the wound healed over time, and I found a replacement rabbit, who sits with me now as I write this.
Getting to the Spiritual Experience, at seven or eight years old, I sat around one day, and turned off the T.V. In my parents' bedroom. I thought back on my missing rabbit from three years ago, still somewhat hurt and confused about what happened. Thinking about the hour at church I had just come home from, I thought, "maybe I should ask this 'God"' about what happened". If anything I learned from church, God knows everything.
I didn't quite know how to pray, so I did what we were supposed to in church, closed my eyes, sat cross-legged, bowed my head and folded my hands together. I do not remember the exact verbatim of what I said to God, but I do remember that I asked him out loud what happened to my stuffed animal, and where was she? I asked multiple times, and then, after I thought I had said enough, I opened my eyes and looked around, confused about what would happen next.
I was shocked out of my mind to see a giant angel standing next to the bed over me in the reflection of our television. Dazed, I stared at this reflection for some time. I didn't feel scared at all, but frozen. I couldn't tell if what I was looking at was really there, so I took my eyes from the angel in the reflection, and turned them to the side of the bed where she was supposed to be standing. Nothing was there. I turned back to the television, and she still stood there, tall, at least 8 or 9 feet in height, and, surprising to me now after I've done years of research on angels and the paranormal, she didn't "glow" and she wasn't dressed in a white robe, but was dressed in a brownish robe with seemingly vine-like ties wrapped around her body. She had black hair, and fairly tan skin.
The one thing about her that told me she was an angel was her wings; they were so big. At least the thickness of her torso and stretched down from her shoulders to below the back of her knees. There was no mistake she was an angel.
Amazed at this creature, I stared into the television for a minute or two, and then, she disappeared. Still to this day, the same guardian angel has come to me a few other times, stories that I will explain later.
This was my first spiritual experience, and looking back on it today taught me this: God loves everyone, and listens to all of us, he is love. Pure love. All you need to do is let him listen. You don't need to go to church and sing him songs that no one understands. I'm sure as you read this now, you are struggling with something; maybe a problem at work, or maybe the death of a loved one. Take a moment to think about this problem, and then take a moment to ask God to help you though it. I can't guarantee you will see an angel in a reflection or have this problem be instantly resolved, but look for the subtle things around you that improve.
Follow the path God lays out for you, and thank him for laying out this path. Try it tonight or today or whenever, but just ask for a bit of help from him. You will be surprised at the results.
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