I’ve been craving an Imaginary Interlude for the last few days. Anyone out there share my craving? Have you ever wondered what it would be like to arrive at the Pearly Gates we’ve all heard about all our lives. Me, too! I’m sure we all have an idea of what we would like for it to be, the people who might come to meet us, the sights and sounds that might vie for our attention. What follows is one admittedly ordinary woman’s imaginings of this yet to be experienced bliss.
Everybody ready? We are about to take off on a flight of fancy. The captain has lit the “No Smoking” signs, the flight attendants have shown us the oxygen masks and emergency exits and are now coming down the center aisle with drinks and snacks as we embark on our little excursion. We hope you will sit back and enjoy your flight with us today. You may recline your seats and feel free to move about the cabin.
There was soft, gentle music playing somewhere far, far away as he slowly became conscious of his surroundings, but it was unlike any music he had ever heard. There wasn’t really a ‘beat’ per se – just an underlying pulse – like a heartbeat but quieter and less distracting – overlaid by tinkling notes of ascending and descending order. The instruments didn’t sound like any he had heard, but the music was pleasant to the ear, soothing to the soul and relaxing to the body.
He felt light, buoyant – like a balloon tied to a little girl’s hand bouncing in the air currents as she skipped along behind her mother. It wasn’t just a lightness of the body; it was a breeziness of the soul, a buoyancy of the mind and emotions that was quite rejuvenating. He wasn’t sure where he was, but it was light here. He could see the light through his closed eyelids as his eyes moved around beneath them.
He thought that, perhaps, he should try to get up but he really was extremely comfortable floating free and unfettered. He didn’t feel a surface beneath him or the coolness of sheets surrounding him. He thought he was lying down, but he admitted to himself that he could have been very wrong. There was a weightlessness to his suspension – as if he was floating in an anti-gravity chamber in preparation for a trip on the space shuttle. For all he knew he was standing upright, his head thrown back and his arms extended to his sides as he had so often with the crowds screaming and chanting his name.
Trying to open his eyes a little at a time, he was surprised at the intensity of the light that permeated the space he occupied. He recoiled against it – and noticed that it reacted by becoming just a bit dimmer, as if the light itself had responded to his thoughts by snapping on a colored filter, but it was still radiant, brilliant. The illumination didn’t seem to originate in one location. Rather it seemed to be emitted by the space itself. He didn’t see a sun or a conventional electrical bulb, but the space glowed and vibrated with luminosity.
He appeared to be alone, but he still heard the strange music playing and wondered where it was coming from. He didn’t see any musical instruments or stereo speakers. “Maybe it’s just the music I’ve always heard in my head,” he thought but rejected that solution almost as soon as it entered. No, this music was not in his head; it seemed to pulse throughout his entire body. He felt it in the veins in his legs – a mild tingling sensation – and in his arms and spine. His hair seemed to be able to feel this music. How very odd!
As he turned his head, he noticed that the room was featureless; no corners or furniture interrupted the space, no ceiling or walls or floors or windows were evident. He had been right; he was lying down – or, perhaps, a better description would have been floating in a prone position as if he was levitating in one of his favorite magician’s shows. The thought occurred to him, “I wonder how I would stand up in here.”
Instantly his body pivoted so that he was more upright and could examine his surroundings in more detail. He almost felt that the featureless space he inhabited was responding to his thoughts. Light and comfort were the major features of the place. He couldn’t tell much more than that. He tried to step forward and found that instead of extending his leg, he floated a few feet and stopped again. How odd! He attempted another step and felt the same floating forward occur. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, just kind of strange. Propelling himself forward again, he noticed a small speck against what might have been a wall of light.
As he tried to focus on the speck it grew larger and larger until he could almost distinguish a small figure approaching him, propelling itself forward as he had, but playing with it as if it were propelling itself forward on a skateboard or roller skates. His heart began to hammer in his chest and the speck froze, coming no closer. He stared open mouthed. He heard a small whisper in his head, “Do not be afraid. May I come closer?”
Michael nodded imperceptibly and the speck moved toward him with a little bit slower glide. He could make it out a bit better now. A small head and shoulders appeared out of the unfathomable distance that seemed to extend forever, two small arms and legs. It was a child, perhaps 6 years old with dark hair and blue eyes and a huge smile floating towards him. As the child approached, Michael knelt in order to be on his level. The boy finally reached him and stopped before him.
“Do you remember, me?” he asked hesitantly. When Michael shook his head, the boy continued. “You came to visit me in the hospital in New Zealand. I was sick and a very crabby because the chemotherapy they gave me made me puke a lot. I was crying and inconsolable because they were getting ready to stick another needle into me with more of the stuff that was making me puke. You put your hand on my head and said, “God bless you.” Then, you smiled into my eyes with such love that for a few moments, I was able to forget my misery and smile back. I came to say thank you for caring.” As he finished his little speech, the child wrapped his arms around Michael’s neck and then stepped back. Michael responded by caressing the small back with his large hand and smiling.
When the boy stepped back, Michael saw that another child had approached. She was about 10 years old and had beautiful dark skin and wide brown eyes. “We can see and understand you, though you don’t speak,” she said. “This is a healing chamber. It’s for those who come into this world harmed or hurt in some way. Lots of us have been here, ourselves. I was one of the children you invited into your beautiful home for a day of fun. We rode the rides and jumped on the trampoline and ran across a rope bridge and ate snow cones. I didn’t realize what a blessing that day would be until I got home and my mother’s boyfriend found me and … well, I’ve wanted to thank you for caring ever since.” The little girl, too, enveloped Michael in a huge hug, squeezing him until he almost couldn’t breathe. Then giggling, she, too, stepped away and another child took her place.
Puzzled, Michael placed his hand gently on the next child’s head and stood. He was stunned to discover that a long line of children had materialized stretching far into the distance. They formed a chain of smiling faces that seemed to go on forever. Returning to his knees, a boy approached who appeared to be no more than eighteen months old. He had blond hair and a round little tummy and was dressed in footie pajamas. The child stared at Michael and burst into tears. Michael enfolded him within his arms and rocked him gently against his chest as he hummed gently to calm the boy.
“His name was Craig Fleming,” he heard from somewhere nearby. Michael’s eyes widened at the name and he held the child tightly against his trembling heart as he continued to rock him and comfort him. Michael remembered the first time he had heard the name. It had been on the news. A mother had thrown her 18-month-old son and her 3-year-old son off a bridge and jumped into the water after them. She and the older boy had survived, but the youngest had not. Michael had been so moved by the report he had requested the family’s permission to attend the funeral. He had just never understood how such a thing could happen – how a mother could kill her own child. The entire concept had been so foreign to him that even though he had been embroiled in a very upsetting time in his own life, he had felt compelled to become involved with the surviving son by setting up a trust fund for his education. Michael continued to rock the tiny body against his heart and hum quietly.
Suddenly, a voice interrupted his thoughts – a voice that he would have recognized anywhere though he’d never heard it before. Its timbre was beguiling; its inflection and cadence were poetry. Though soft and gentle it resonated with power and echoed within the chambers of his heart as if he were in a cavern. “They wouldn’t let Me approach until they had all had their chance to see you and tell you how much they love you.” Then suddenly, the voice laughed and all of Michael’s discomfort in the strange, surreal surroundings dissipated. It was the sound of springtime after a long, cold, lonely winter while, at the same time, the sound of thunder and rain whipping against the walls and roof of your house while you are snug and warm inside beside a blazing fire. It contained every safe, comforting, warm, fuzzy, healing emotion ever held within a human heart.
Rising slowly to an upright position, he thought quietly, “I’m sorry I failed you. I tried so hard to follow your example, but the world wouldn’t let me take care of them. They thought that my motives … well, I won’t tell you what they thought. They didn’t see my heart.”
“I know what they thought, My Son. I, too, lived among them. They accused me, too. They killed me, too. Look into the eyes and smiles of these, my companions,” the voice resounded within his mind. Michael knelt again. The children, who had tired of waiting patiently for their turn, stampeded – all of them rushing towards him at once. They wanted to touch him, to talk to him, to thank him, to embrace and be embraced in their exuberance. As Michael drew them all in with his arms outstretched, they knocked him over and he landed on his fanny, floating up as they reached out for him. He laughed uproariously.
“Now,” he heard within him, “tell me again how you failed Me, My Son. These are only the ones who came home to Me. I have cherished them and healed them. Many remain back in your world and live productive, inspired human lives treasuring the memory of your caring heart within their own as much as these.”
“Now, my children, let me finish healing him and I will bring him to you. I promise. Run along and play,” the soft voice vibrated throughout the space. As the children faded into the distance, Michael rose from his floating position to greet a young man. His hair, too, was worn shoulder-length and curled teasingly around his shoulders. He had broad shoulders and lean hips and was dressed in comfortable-looking jeans with a voluminous white v-necked shirt with loose-fitting sleeves that could be tied at the wrists, if he so desired. His eyes were brown and lit with a humorous twinkle. His skin was an olive-shade customary to natives of the Middle Eastern Mediterranean region. He appeared to be a bit taller than Michael, himself, but no more than six feet. His feet were bare. His smile was broad with straight, even teeth.
Michael immediately fell to his knees, placing his hands together in front of his face and touching his forehead briefly with his thumbs, he covered his face in the time-honored gesture of reverence and humility.
“Now, Michael, you have been on the receiving end of that kind of greeting. How did it make you feel?”
Michael replied, “Uh, a little uncomfortable. I didn’t think I was worthy of that kind of devotion. I tried to get them to stop doing it, but they didn’t understand.”
“Exactly, we understand each other well, don’t we?” Jesus announced. Bending to assist Michael, He drew him up to a standing position. “Please rise and let’s have a little chat.” As Michael rose from his knees, Jesus held out his arms to enfold him within them in a brief and tender embrace. “Will you walk with me, Michael, or are you still a bit disoriented from your journey?”
“No, I’m fine, I think,” he replied.
“Good. Now, to answer some of your questions. As Meghan told you, this is one of our healing chambers. She, herself, spent a considerable time here. It is designed to heal your body, your heart, your mind and your spirit for the next step of your journey. The vibration chamber will increase your vibration to a much more refined level. It will lessen your density or materiality, if you will, and bring you more in line with your spiritual vibration. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I think so. I think you are telling me that I’ve died and am being prepared to enter into heaven,” Michael thought.
Jesus laughed aloud. “Well, in a manner of speaking. But in another way, you have always been in heaven. What could possibly be more heavenly than the planet you just left? You, of all people, should understand that. And there really is no such thing as death. Let’s look at it more as a graduation. You have completed your courses in the physical world and have gained entry into the spiritual world. But, I guess, it’s as good an analogy as another.”
As they walked, Michael noticed that the chamber was taking on the appearance of a large country estate, similar to one he’d resided in during his holiday in Ireland. Rolling, grass-covered hills appeared so green that the color fairly vibrated in intensity. A cloud-dappled, azure sky could be seen in the distance and the sound of surf crashing against shore could be heard far off punctuating their conversation.
Jesus sat against a tree trunk, sensing that Michael was tiring easily. “There is no rush. We are not going anywhere. I want to talk to you about this idea of ‘failing Me.’ When and how did you ever fail me?” Jesus asked.
“I left the Jehovah’s Witness Church.” Michael replied. “But they gave me no choice. They told me I had to leave the church or I had to leave the field of entertainment. I felt strongly that entertaining was what I was put on Earth to do. They were asking me to choose between my faith and my soul. I couldn’t leave entertainment. It was what I was sure you had given me to develop and use to save the children and heal the world and benefit humanity.”
“And you were right. It was what you were born to do. But you always had a choice. Your physical apparatus was designed for the job it was intended for. Your heart, mind and soul were fused together in music and rhythm – and your body couldn’t help but follow. You made the right decision. If you had rejected the gifts you’d been given, your life would’ve been much more ordinary, but you wouldn’t have really lived it. You would have only gone through the motions and you would have been miserable because your soul would have known that you were not living the life God intended for you to live,” Jesus replied. “You would have spent your entire life seeking that which you knew you were meant to be. Instead you chose to develop those gifts and use them to shine My love onto an entire planet while seeking the childhood that passed you by while you were otherwise engaged. That was the challenge you faced every day. You decided early on that the only way for you to experience that childhood was to give it to all the children who needed it, too. It was an ingenious solution and one that allowed My love to heal some of them, anyway … quite a few, actually.”
“Michael, religion is the box that humans try to fit God into. But God doesn’t like boxes. They’re too limiting, too restricting. God doesn’t fit conveniently into a box. She keeps escaping and wreaking havoc in the world. Your job is to pay attention to and encourage the havoc. In this time and this place in history, you were the havoc God was wreaking on the world. And you played your part expertly – with style and grace and zeal and dignity and great love. It is not important which religion you belong to – it is important that you have a personal, real relationship with your Creator – and you always had that. So, in this you did not fail Me.”
Jesus leaned back against the trunk of the gnarled grandfather of an oak tree. A squirrel ran rings around the trunk, chittering gaily as he went. Jesus looked up and smiled, “Yes, I know. You want to play, but this is an important conversation. Will you play with your friends until we are finished talking?” The squirrel retreated back up the trunk, chittering in a scolding manner as he ran along a branch and hopped over to another tree.
Jesus looked at Michael and noticed his eyelids drooping. “Rafe, I need you.” Michael heard echoing throughout the chamber. “Michael, you are still disoriented, aren’t you? Here, lean against me and close your eyes. We can talk while you rest. Let’s continue in this vein. In what other ways did you fail me?”
Michael rested against Jesus’ shoulder and followed his instructions, closing his eyes wearily. “I wasn’t able to heal the children – or the world,” he announced as his voice began to slur and he felt very faint. “I wanted to and I did everything I could to reach out to them. But they wouldn’t let me touch them with your love. They closed me off with their suspicion. They drove me away with their hatred.“
Jesus smiled wearily. “Yes, I was watching. You were too much for them to grasp in much the same way I was. They fear the things that are too good to be true; they can’t understand that they are worthy of God’s promises, but they have so much potential. They see themselves as the lowest sinners and fail to see themselves as the highest expression of God. It wasn’t your failure that you weren’t allowed to continue your mission of healing. As you saw all the children who came to greet you, you did so much good. When I was hungry, you gave me food for my body. When I was lost, you showed me the way. When I was ill or frightened, you created a space for My love to enter and heal my body and touched my mind with your love. When I needed diversion, you gave me music and joy for my soul and gave my heart wings. What more could you possibly think I expected of you, Michael?”
Without a sound, the most beautiful creature appeared before the tree they were resting against. Michael gasped in surprise. He’d never seen anything to compare to the beauty of this creature, but he couldn’t quite pin down the traits that made the creature so beautiful. His body tensed as he tried to stand. “No, Michael, you need to rest,” Jesus rebuked. “This is Rafe. She is an angel, an empath and my most skilled healer. He’s been called many names throughout the history of your world – Rafael or Raphaella, to name just a couple. I called him here to help you become more acclimated and less disoriented. As you can see, she is neither wholly male nor wholly female – and both at the same time so her appearance changes constantly to accommodate the purity of his being, so please don’t be alarmed by that.”
The creature called Rafe smiled brightly at Michael. “May I come closer? Will you allow my touch?” she asked in a sonorous voice that contained both the timbre of male and female characteristics.
Returning the angel’s smile, Michael nodded. Rafe touched the crown of his head and his forehead briefly, closing his eyes and wincing imperceptibly. Next her hand touched his throat, his heart, his stomach, his abdomen in succession. “I’m aligning your energy and removing blockages that your physical envelope produces. It should make you feel more alert and aware of your surroundings.” When she had finished, she sighed, “There! Do you feel better, now?”
“Yes, thank you,” Michael replied.
Rafe smiled again and looked at Jesus with a small smile. “He will need to be realigned every few minutes until his healing is complete. May I take him back to the pods to continue the process?”
Jesus shook his head imperceptibly. “No, thanks, Rafe. We need to sort some emotions and thoughts out first. Then, he will be more receptive to the healing that remains.”
Rafe nodded and smiled again at Michael. “Be welcome, here, beloved. And be well,” she said, folding her hands together and placing them at her eye level in a similar gesture to the one he had employed earlier. Bowing to the seated men, he vanished as quickly and quietly as he had arrived.
“Aow!” Michael exclaimed, “they really do exist! She is beautiful. But that male/female thing must get a bit tricky.”
Jesus laughed loudly. “Not here it doesn’t, but in the physical world, I’m afraid humans wouldn’t know quite what to make of Rafe – just like they didn’t know quite what to make of you. Your uniqueness was your greatest gift to them – as well as your greatest curse. I want you to know, Michael, that in no way did you ever fail me during your physical life. You were given an abundance of gifts to get the attention of the entire world. You could have used those gifts for harm or for greed or for selfish purposes, but you didn’t. You could have refused those gifts and followed the edicts put upon you by your chosen religion, but you didn’t. You always had free will and could have ignored what you felt you had been given to do, but you didn’t.”
“Instead, you developed your talents to the highest degree humanly possible. Then, you used those talents to get the entire planet’s attention and delivered strong, barely disguised messages of love and peace and unity. You used the music you were given with such beautiful, incredible zeal. Furthermore, you could have spoken of, sung about those ideals and then followed a dissolute lifestyle – as so many in your profession do – but you didn’t. You embodied the messages you delivered. You did all this and brought happiness and hope into the global consciousness. You made the entire world dance, Michael. You touched many millions with your love and compassion, fed many millions with your support of charities, healed many thousands of broken hearts, brought light and laughter into many lives that otherwise would have known only despair. When you have done this to one of the least of my brothers, you have done it to me. You did all this with joy and innocence, strength and courage, indomitable resolve, grace and style and always with great love.
“You took my words into your heart and lived them to the best of your ability – and always with the view of benefiting your fellow men and women – and I am so proud of you,” Jesus said with great conviction. “Now, we must take you back to the pod area and allow your healing to continue so that you can fully join us. I have many more of those you helped waiting to greet you and, you know, Michael, children don’t have a whole lot of patience. I don’t know if you ever noticed, but they don’t stay quiet for long stretches of time. They will be storming the ramparts soon to take you off to play. You want to be ready so that they won’t be disappointed.”
As he rose from the ground, Jesus helped Michael to his feet and returned along the walkway from which they had come. Leaving the vibrantly green rolling hills and surf behind, they returned to the brightly illuminated area in which Michael had become aware. Jesus embraced him one last time before explaining. “This area is illuminated by the thoughts and prayers of all of us. The music you hear is really love energy aligning your energy to correspond with the emissions of the love of all of us. Basically, you are resting within our embrace as your spiritual body becomes attuned. So, please, relax fully and don’t worry about anything. Nothing can harm you here in our embrace.”
Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please. The captain has lit the “Fasten Your Seat Belts” sign in preparation for landing. Please return your seats to their upright position and stow and lock your dinner trays in the seat in front of you. The weather at our destination is a cool 65 degrees with clear skies and a light breeze. Thank you for flying with us today.
This Imaginary Interlude has been brought to you by With a Child’s Heart. We hope you will plan your next interlude with us.
Jan
Withachildsheart's Blog 