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Child of God

My first past life experience occurred when

I was 6 years old.

It was confusing. 

I did not exactly know what had happened, but it was like no dream I had ever had, then or now. 

I am not sure if any of you have had a past life memory.

If you have had one, you may connect with this chapter. 

I have the safety of knowing that I am an adult, and this is in the past. 

I am going to put one foot into the shadow of my young self at the age of six and one foot in the shadow of this other life so that I can connect easier and share with you. 

This is simply a recounting of a past life as opposed to a new memory, so I think I will be fine with the emotions. 

My parents decided that we were going to bring religion into our life, and we started going to the little local church. The Sunday school was in the basement of the church and there were three to four parent teachers that were there usually teaching little Bible stories. We had just started going to the church, so everything was new.

We had been attending for a few Sundays, and I had been learning about different things in the class, and sometimes these things reminded me of different times and different places and my mind would drift, and I didn’t know why. I was kind of a quiet kid, and adults would often say that I was thoughtful. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I liked it. 

It was a typical Sunday morning. The sky was dark gray, the clouds were low. It was cold and I pulled my jacket around me as we walked up to the little church. 

I was about five or six years of age and was dressed in my Sunday clothes, with my hair was fixed nicely. As we arrived and walked down the stairs, I could hear the kids singing. I quickly sat down on the carpet to begin singing too.  When we were done, a parent teacher asked us to all gather around for story time. I love story time, so I was excited to begin.

As our teacher began her story, a word began to float around in my mind, which was Nazareth. It began to echo inside my head as she used it again.

It felt so familiar, like I could almost touch it. It felt like a place that I knew, and my mind just started to drift while I was in the classroom. The clap of the teachers hands brought me back to the classroom and I blinked my eyes as I looked around at the religious pictures. I wondered who these people were as my eyes kind of scanned.

Then the teacher stopped by one picture in particular and said that she wanted to introduce us to Jesus. I looked at the picture and I kind of tilted my head, and I thought that doesn’t fit, that doesn’t look like Jesus at all. I didn’t know where that came from, but this was a very strong feeling. 

I wonder why they’re teaching us this because it just didn’t feel right, and I cannot explain but my gut just had a big opinion. It was the first time that my gut ever had an opinion, and I couldn’t shake it off. I thought I have to talk to these teachers because I don’t think that they know that this is a problem. 

So, I decided I was going to be helpful, and I decided that I was just going to walk up to the tallest teacher, because she always seemed so nice to me, and I was going to tell her how I was feeling. 

The parent teacher had red flaming hair and as I stood at her feet, she looked like a tall redwood tree standing over me. I had to tilt my head back to look up into her face. When she looked down I let her know that some of the stuff that they were saying didn’t feel right to me, and in particular, I pointed at the picture of Jesus, and I let her know that it wasn’t him, and it just didn’t feel right to me, and I thought Jesus looked different.

I expected her to appreciate this, but as she looked down at me her face began to change, and it became a very mean face, and I realized she wasn’t happy. But I was confused. She grabbed my little arm, and she started pulling me across the classroom to the other teachers. She was hurting my arm, and she wouldn’t let go of it.

I wiggled, and I tried to get out of it like a kid would. But I couldn’t. Her hand was like a vice. The teachers began talking about me as if I wasn’t there, as if I was invisible, as I

stood underneath them in the circle. They were all in agreement that I was being very disruptive. I was lying, and they would not allow it. 

Suddenly my parents came into the door, the look on their faces was not happy faces. 

My dad had his hands on his hips and my mother was looking at me with those eyes that you never want to see from your mother. I thought this was not going as anticipated at all. The teacher talked to my parents and as we got ready to exit the building, they let my parents know that they were welcomed back, but they should not bring me along because I was going to confuse the other children. 

As we drove home in the car, I listened as my parents yelled at me. 

I was looking out the window thinking to myself. I am confused and I’m not sure what to do with all this confusion. When we got home, I was put into my bedroom and I was told that I could not come out until I would be willing to take back the lie and admit that it was a lie, and sort of repent, and say I would never lie again. I realized I was exiled in my bedroom to learn a lesson. I just wasn’t sure what lesson was because I had told the truth. 

I decided to lay on my bed to think about the confusion in my head. I covered my eyes with my arms and felt very sorry for myself as I cried. As I calmed down, I began to hear the word Nazareth and slowly I was becoming aware of the word spinning in my mind. Each time I thought of the word it seemed more and more important. It kept echoing “Nazareth”; it was surrounding me. 

Calling me. I just let go and let my mind drift to follow it. The word was just sort of dancing ahead of me as we went back in time, I became aware that I was in a different time and a different place in my mind. But I wasn’t asleep. 

Somehow, I was still aware of my bedroom, but as I focused on the memory it began playing in my head like it was a dream and briefly, I seemed to be able to be in two places at one time. But then my room began to fade away, and a

different place was coming into focus. As it became more and more clear I knew I was in a different place and time. The entire new place was very vivid. The colors were very bright, and everything was sharply focused. 

I felt like I was seeing things from a higher vantage point, maybe taller than me, because I was a short 6-year-old.  I looked around for anything that I recognized. There was dust everywhere and old houses, dirt roads, people wearing long robes, animals working pulling carts or carrying supplies. I heard the word Nazareth, and the sound flowed through my body causing a reaction like frequency. 

I didn’t know what Nazareth was or meant but it definitely was familiar. 

I stood and looked around, all the people seemed to be in a rush on this one road in front of me, but I can smell bread on the wind. It smelled so good, my stomach rumbled.

I looked down at my hands and they were no longer my little white 6-year soft hands and fingers, they had callouses and were much darker than mine. I turned my hands over and looked at both sides, my fingers were so dirty and a dark brown. My nails are black and cracked. I reached up to smell my hands and the stench choked me. 

This act caused me to start seeing through another person’s eyes. The eyes began to focus, and I realized that I was a

taller boy, about 7 yrs old. My vantage point is taller because he’s taller than me by about a head and I can look down on things differently.

I can see the tops of people’s heads, which I can never see because I’m shorter. I’m always looking up into everybody’s faces. 

As I become more comfortable this this situation I am looking down into the street at the crowd and I am aware that I can understand what he’s thinking. 

Two things pop up immediately. 

#1, in the front of his mind. He’s very hungry and thirsty. I can run my hands over his body, and he has bony ribs and hips. He’s very thin, maybe starving. He is thinking of finding food, first thing on his mind, but 

#2 in the back of his mind, he’s worried that someone will see him and catch him and beat him. I can see a few instances of horrible treatment in his memories and they look very painful. He’s also afraid that they’ll catch him and sell him into slavery, I guess that is common here. He’s hiding from everyone in the shadows. He has no protector. 

I completely fade into his life and I aware that I’m standing with my back against a wall in the shadows. I survey the crowd for bad people, and I hear some yelling Nazareth in the distance on the wind. I realize that the location where I am standing, this town is Nazareth. I’m standing in Nazareth. Nazareth is a place. I blink my eyes and am aware that my back is against a building built from dirt.

It is hot, it’s really hot. Very blue sky and powerful sun beating down. 

It’s windy and there’s sand flying around. I am shutting my eyes to protect them. 

I’m hungry, I’m so hungry, and I’m looking around for food. I’m aware of a wide ancient road kind of in front of me and the sounds of the street, the smell of horses, wagons rumbling by big heavy wagons filled with goods and people. It’s kind of busy. I don’t know if it’s a busy city, or a busy afternoon, but it’s a busy moment, but I’m just sort of mesmerized looking around and being aware. I am increasingly comfortable in this body. 

Suddenly I hear a ruckus off to my right, near the back of the building I’m standing by, that is kind of on the edge of town. I scramble along the dirt wall to the end of the building.

I carefully look around the corner with one eye at first. I am immediately hit with blowing sand. I have to squint and pullback. But my curiosity gets the best of me, and I am drawn again to look around the corner where there is the sound of a big crowd of people. 

I cautiously put my entire head around the corner and see a big wide culvert that goes across to the other side. It’s kind of flat on the bottom where people and horses can walk, and then it goes up on the other side. The noise grows louder, and I can see that there’s a man on the path at the top of the other side. He is coming towards town, and a large group of men are following him. 

As I see this man I cannot take my eyes off of him, he is mesmerizing. There’s something about him that I don’t understand as a child, but all the men are trying to keep up with him. They’re talking and chattering and trotting along beside him to keep up. He seems to be going somewhere. He has a long flowing robe that’s the color of sand; that’s kind of whipping behind him. 

I don’t recognize him, but I am really feeling that this man is of great importance. I stare at him and the crowd that is passing by, down in the culvert. The crowd is growing as I look further down. At the end there’s a big tree in the middle of the culvert. It’s a giant tree with big, outstretched branches like arms and a lot of shade. I see people under the tree and there’s more arriving. There seems to be an excitement with the crowd, they are pointing at him and they’re all waiting for this man to arrive.

I decide I have to see more, so I leave the safety of the shadow of this building to cross over to another building closer to the crowd. As I do that, a fleeting thought crosses my mind, and I realize I’m a street orphan. In my mind I’m not thinking about any parents or anything like that. There’s nobody that’s going to say don’t do that stay in safety. I come to a short alley, and I dash across it, behind the shadow of another building. I sort of snake my way down the alley towards the big tree in the shadows of big buildings on the edge of town.

As I get closer, the man is beginning to speak, and I can hear his voice for the first time. It is wonderful and it resonates on the wind. It is a sound that is calling me, it feels so inviting, and I can’t wait to get there. Soon I am at the top of the culvert in the shadow, sitting like a little bird waiting for something to happen. I cannot quite hear him, so I’m kind of leaning forward because I really want to hear all of the words that he’s saying because they sound so sweet to my ears. I can just barely hear him say, “my children”,  when suddenly, abruptly, I’m grabbed from behind.

A big heavy hand belonging to a very mean man has a hold of me, he pushes me down hard and grabs my right foot. His hand feels like steel and he’s holding me, when he stands straight up and starts yelling and dangling me up in the air. I fear that he is a madman. He’s begins walking down the culvert towards the mesmerizing man.

The bad man is shaking me and he’s yelling that I’m a street heathen, which apparently is bad. I am so afraid as he is shaking me, there is panic running through my mind. What will he do to me? I brace for impact, and I squeeze my eyes tightly expecting the worst. He is holding my small ankle tight and shaking me violently, I realize my brain is rattling around and I’m losing the ability to think straight. 

But behind me I hear that wonderful resonating voice of the mesmerizing man. He is commanding the bad man to put me down, just put him down he says. He calmly and peacefully says that I am a Child of God. 

Child of God? I think he has me confused with some other dirty child, because I have no friends, no relatives, no parents, and no one in my life named God. I have no idea who this God person is, but if he is going to claim me as his child and if that will save me from this bad man, I am okay with that. So, I am just quietly dangling there. 

The bad man turns me towards him and he’s looking me straight in the eyes and his glare pierces me. I can only look back with my saddest eyes and I am just preparing for the worst. But then the resonating voice of the mesmerizing man begins again, and I am brought back to the moment. I am able to twist my body around to look at the kind mesmerizing man. 

He says, in that wonderful voice, that we are all Children of God in His eyes, and that we must love one another. That god wants all his children to live in peace and harmony. I looked at the mesmerizing man and his eyes are so loving. We locked eyes for a moment, and I could see that he cared about me and that I mattered to him. Then I looked at the bad man and his eyes were like hot iron that just tore right through me. Reluctantly, he put me on the ground, and I stood there, and I felt very tiny. I become aware that I am standing in front of everyone and I’m not in a shadow. 

The kind man is looking at me, and the bad man is staring at me, and the crowd is looking at me as if something should happen. 

Suddenly I panicked, and I start to run back up the bank of the culvert towards the top. I run as fast as my small legs can carry me, past the crowd, up the hill towards the shadows. When I get to the top of the hill and find the shadows, I stop, and I look back. 

The kind loving man, has followed me with his eyes during my exit up the hill. I stopped to catch my breath, and our eyes met, he has a very strong look of concern. I immediately wanted to run back to him and jump in his arms for safety. But I am afraid, and I pause for just a moment because as much as I wanted to stay there, it is too dangerous. I ran into the shadows, around the building and disappear from sight. 

This moment kind of faded from that day and I began to be aware that I had kind of moved forward in time, for about two weeks. Again, I’m hungry, as always, and I’m looking for scraps of food, and I’m a pretty smart kid. I discovered that there are certain food places, like these street vendors in town that have good bushes near them for hiding.

I realize that there are tables and some places where I can get some bits of food. I can quietly wait in the shadow of the bushes and when the timing is right, I can dash, and if I am lucky, a piece of meat or maybe a sweet or anything that might be left behind or thrown away or dropped on the ground, will be mine to grab. 

On this particular day, I’m near a popular eating place that is located on the corner of a busy road. There is a large table near the corner and there is good coverage for me. I stake my hiding location out and wait for my opportunity. At the entrance I see two fat men arriving, they look hungry.  

They wander around talking and then choose the big table not far from me. Strategically I adjust myself to crouch in the bushes for my opportunity. They began ordering a lot of food and different desserts as I hoped. I am as quiet as possible, crouching down, waiting for my opportunity to dash out, but they’re taking so long to eat, tasting every single dish and morsel, licking their fingers and lips, as they enjoy the mouthwatering food. They are having a conversation, and I decide to pay attention while I wait. 

I listen to conversations from time to time to hear about local news or maybe locations where there could be a local event that might involve food or any kind. 

The shortest of the two fat men begins to talk about the striking man that had saved me. 

The short fat man asked are you going to go listen to him next time? He’s going to be here again. He has some important things to say. You should come, you should have come last time. Everybody liked him. 

The big fat man says I don’t know. I don’t really have time for that. Who is he anyway?

The short fat man says he’s a very important person. He traveled far and everybody really liked him. 

The big fat man seemed to be very annoyed, and he asked who is that man anyway?

The short fat man shouted You don’t know. You never pay attention to me.  I told you all about him before he came. It was Jesus of Nazareth. You should come, you should listen. It would be good for you. 

But, as I was hiding in the bushes watching the table, I realized that my favorite treat was being served. I thought about it for a minute, and I wondered if they would finish it. My mouth began to think about how much I wanted that treat, and how it would taste so good? I had to be patient. I had to wait for my opportunity. But it looked perfectly made and my mouth watered thinking about the flavor. 

Soon they began stretching and yawning and patting their fat bellies. My focus shifted to the food, 

I became very focused and adjusted my body to be prepared like a predator ready to pounce. I would have to act quickly. My favorite treat was right there on the table within hands reach. I licked my lips, savoring how sweet it would be. I just needed to be a little more patient. I leaned forward to prepare my legs and feet for action. My muscles and attention were ready. 

But in doing that I fell out of the safety of the bushes, and out of the shadows. As I fell forward, I landed on the ground near the table, to my left the shopkeeper saw me right away, and he had a stick! He pointed it at me and he yelled his intent to hurt me. I thought oh no! I’m going to get hit; visions of the pain crossed my mind.

Quickly I gathered myself up looking for an exit. I realized I had to make a split-second decision or I would get hit by this man in moments. 

In my little girl mind I could see his memory of being hit before and the bruises on my back. A I didn’t want anyone to hit him again, it was so painful. My little girl mind was racing, and it was a frightening moment. 

But, he had only a split second to make a decision as the moment was near.

I decided to jump out of the way and move to the other side of the road. I had no other choice. I would have to sacrifice my treat and any chance of food. The street beside me was wide and very busy, with lots of traffic on foot and wagons. 

The shopkeeper was quickly approaching, and I could see the stick pointing straight at me. My eye scanned across the busy road, and I picked a location where I could land that had good coverage and safety. I could see the running shopkeeper and I saw his angry eyes. He detested homeless people and considered them like rats. 

The stick was right by my face! 

I took a giant leap forward and squinted my eyes as I jumped into the air. 

As I was flying, I immediately realized my mistake. 

The Roman driving the big wagon, loaded with goods, never saw me. 

At that moment, as my little girl self, I was alarmed and screamed loudly! Stop!

But I watched him jump into oncoming traffic. His body had launched between the horse section, in the small section just behind the horse, but in front of the wagon.

In his panic and self-preservation, he had darted right into that little gap straight into the path of a giant Roman wheel, and the wheel was right there. 

Thundering towards him.

The wheel was big and fat, it had a sharp metal edge, it was moving fast straight at me. 

I had nowhere to go. 

I had no one to save me. 

The front wheel was smaller and when it hit me, it felt like a squish. But when the second big back wheel hit me, it was unforgivable, and I felt the pain of my body getting crushed and smashed as my body careened its way under the wagon.

My bones broke and cracked, and my body popped out the back end of the wagon, as if nothing had happened. 

I became aware that I was drifting away from that scene up into the air and I stopped at about 12-15 feet. As I looked down, I saw my crushed and bleeding body lying in the road. The wagon driver never knew he hit me, not even a bump. He didn’t notice or stop. Nobody seemed to notice on the road. 

Would anybody notice or is something else going to happen to my poor body? 

Would anybody care at all? Would I just be left lying in the road?

But in between the buildings, a man with big heavy hands came walking out and he put his hands on his hips, as he looked at my body. His face showed no emotion. 

He walked out to the dusty road where my body lay, reached down and grabbed my broken leg with one big hand. He carried my body over and kind of threw it in a heap on the side of the road. 

As I floated there in the sky, I looked around and realized my funeral was over. 

No moment of silence. 

No moment of sadness. 

No kind words. 

Just a clap of his big dirty hands, to kind of get rid of any trace of me, that would have been left there. 

Everybody else on the busy road was oblivious to my departure from this world.

I was drifting even further away and above the scene below.

I looked to my right and a loving smiling woman was drifting towards me with out stretched arms. 

I realized that she looked like the angels in the pictures at the little church. She felt very loving and inviting, I held my arms out to her. She enveloped me in her arms so tight, I thought we would pop. The feeling of love was amazing, I never remembered anyone holding me, caring about me, loving me and I couldn’t get enough.

She loved me a lifetimes worth in that moment. It felt so good and I began to cry because I felt so safe. Safety! I felt safe! No one would harm me again. The feelings took over my thoughts and I needed it so badly.  

We continued to drift upwards into a loving golden light. The pain of this life was over, it was behind me, and it faded away. I realized that I was going home.

Suddenly, in a blink, I was back in my bedroom. Very aware of everything that had just happened. It was no dream, but what was it? I rubbed my eyes and cried. I cried for him and what I had seen. He was the victim, and I was a witness to his tragic death. I felt very connected and sorry for him. But I also felt really sorry for myself. I was different. I was changed. The child in me was certainly bruised, but would it be beyond repair?

A part of me had experienced his pain, and as a child, I didn’t know how to separate that. I didn’t even know what to do. I thought it was a memory of me at a time that I just hadn’t remembered yet, imagining all of this experience. I had absolutely now idea what past lives were and it would take me another 20 years of experience to learn what a past life was, and that this was in fact the only explanation for this. 

At that time, as myself, the 6 yr old girl, I kind of realize that this is supposed to be the Jesus in the picture, but I didn’t really understand who Jesus was was exactly, because the little church had not exactly explained it. 

I mean I saw him on the walls of the church, and I was aware that the young boy had been saved by him, but I really didn’t know anything about Jesus, one way or the other. 

For me he was just someone who had been kind to the young boy. But the young boy was wondering that if he saw Jesus again, would he remember him? I will never know. I later learned who Jesus actually was. 

But, on this day, as I cried, my mother heard me, and she thought that I was repenting. 

So, she came into my exile room to rescue me. 

Thank goodness for mothers! I couldn’t admit to her that I lied at Sunday School, because I hadn’t. I just remembered something that was in the past. So, many questions and so few answers.

So, I cried, and I cried and I kind of went into mourning.

I didn’t know this memory of Nazareth and Jesus was inside of me or how to control it from leaking out little bits at a time, especially at Sunday school. 

The picture of Jesus, that you are all pretty familiar with, having light skin with a beard and long hair, that’s actually the picture that was at the little church. 

But that’s not what he looks like and at that time I had to say something. 

But, maybe, I should not have said anything. 

I was very confused. 

But first my mom was rescuing me, and I knew I needed to get out of the room, because I was really thirsty and hungry. Since that time, my thoughts drift to Jesus and the young boy, 

Food means something completely different to me now, than it did previously and I appreciate food in a negative way. As an adult I have an eating disorder.  

I had no name for him, as he was a forgotten orphan child, no one called his name, so he remains nameless in my heart.

I know him only as Child of God, the only name he was ever called during this life. I saw things differently from that moment: 

  • Childhood Risk.
  • How people are treated.
  • The difference between how boys and girls are treated.
  • The colors of skin, and how they’re treated.
  • I wanted people, especially children of color, to be treated differently.
  • I wanted kids to have a better life, to be fed and not homeless.

I don’t know, I was a jumble of emotions, and it was really difficult. I needed to process all this incoming information. 

But probably the biggest thing that really struck me as a child, was that 

I believed in Angels, starting from that moment. 

I saw a glimpse of heaven, so I knew that it was real. 

My world was forever changed, because I no longer feared death. 

I knew that there absolutely is another side, an afterlife. 

I felt a part of something really huge, and I felt really big connected to the love on the other side. To spirit, to the Divine. It was palpable.

I have relived his life and death thousands of times since this day. 

If I could show you absolute proof that there is an afterlife, how would that change your life?

What kind of peace would you have?

To be completely changed like that?

It was a challenge as a kid, needless to say. But I also became a child that lived in the shadows because that fear, that trauma that I experienced, was there. I needed therapy.  I became more introverted, and I began to ask more questions. I trusted no one. I began to be more of a seeker and I lived more in the shadows, avoiding stepping forward. This was a spiritual crash course with no follow up therapy or guiding hand.