Messages From Angels - Hold the Bus: Angels in the Driver's Seat - (post 6 of 6)

Note: One of my favorite parts of my spiritual job description is when I am asked to be a messenger for benevolent angelic forces. I often receive messages for people whose angels or spiritual guardians ask me to communicate when it is a matter of urgency or they are having a hard time getting through to their human counterparts. Many of these people are strangers to me and our interactions last only moments. These messages can be warnings of illness or accident.  They can also be intended to clarify or give direction. Whatever they are, I play my role as messenger faithfully.


(continued… click here for post 1, post 2, post 3, post 4, post 5)

“You will see that the pain comes and goes in waves. Over time you learn to work with it. Use flower essences. You have to take care of yourself.” Then I was prompted to say, “When you have been abused it can be difficult to tell demons from God.”

“I am having such a hard time with God right now,” he said, “because He let it happen.”

“I know. It’s natural to have trouble with God under these circumstances. You just have to work through it. You can do it. There is hope for you.”

He looked at the bottle and then asked, “Do I need to stay on my medication?”

I listened for an answer and repeated, “Yes.”

His face fell in disappointment.

“I know you don’t like it but it is necessary right now,” I replied.

The bus arrived at our stop and we exited.  My heart was full, with equal parts of pain and the desire to overcome it. My time with this man in the red shirt had come to an end. I let him walk away. Under the yellow light of a street lamp I watched him walk up the hill and into the dark of the neighborhood with the small brown bottle clutched firmly in one hand. He walked upright and I saw that he had regained some hope and at that moment he was determined to conquer his situation. I realized also that the next thing I would have said if the bus ride had not ended was, “Don’t kill yourself.”

And if he had asked ‘Why not?’ I would have said, “Because you hold a spot in creation and we will feel it when you die. Because my heart will break. Because everyone deserves a good death.”

Messages From Angels - Hold the Bus: Angels in the Driver's Seat - (post 5 of 6)

Note: One of my favorite parts of my spiritual job description is when I am asked to be a messenger for benevolent angelic forces. I often receive messages for people whose angels or spiritual guardians ask me to communicate when it is a matter of urgency or they are having a hard time getting through to their human counterparts. Many of these people are strangers to me and our interactions last only moments. These messages can be warnings of illness or accident. They can also be intended to clarify or give direction. Whatever they are, I play my role as messenger faithfully.

(continued .... click here for post 1, post 2, post 3, post 4)


The disbelief in his voice signaled not only that he knew that not everyone is raped as a child but that he believed his pain marked him as different and his wound as irreparable.

“Everyone has parts of themselves that are wounded, decimated,” I clarified, “I was molested as a child.”
The brief silence that followed was laden with the recognition that we had fought and survived the same war.

I continued with the message. “There is hope for you.” I could see that this man needed immediate help and also some clues as to where to go in the future. The Angels directed me to offer him a small gift.  “Here, wait. I want to give you something. I have something for you that will help you.” I put my hand in my backpack and began rummaging for a small bottle.

I pulled out a brown bottle with a yellow label that read, “Bach Rescue Remedy, Flower Essences.” Rescue Remedy helps with stress. Flower essences in general have the gift of knitting, stitch by stitch, souls back together.

“You need flower essences,” I said. 

Though it was already opened and partially used, I handed him the bottle. “Here, take this,” I said, “It’s Rescue Remedy. It will calm you down, give you a new perspective. There is a little alcohol in there. When you finish this, go in search of other flower essences. They have a million different kinds. They have them for issues with your father, trauma, sexual abuse. You just have to search them out. You will have to search them out.”

“Where can I get them?” he asked, as he accepted the bottle.

“Go to a health food store. Bring that bottle. Ask the salesperson to show you their flower essences. Ask for a book on them. Start reading. You’ll have to search them out. If you need to, get some help with understanding them.”

“What are these?” he asked.

I would have said “the souls of flowers” but before I could, he asked another question.
“Are they expensive?”

I pointed to the bottle in his hand.  “That was $17.00. Others are less expensive.”

“You’re giving me something that costs $17.00?”

“Yes.”

His voice rose. In response, he nearly shouted, “What are you?! Some kind of angel?!” Then he said, “I’ve been looking for answers and I’m having a hard time finding them.”

“That’s why you’ve got to deal with your pain. The pain and the answers live in the same place. If you avoid one you avoid the other.”

“Wait! Say that again? I want to understand.”

“Think of your subconscious as a soup pot. In this pot with a heavy lid is all your pain. Mixed into the soup of your pain are all the answers you’ve been looking for. You’re going to have to lift that lid off and stir up the pain to find the answers. Does that make sense? I know it’s a lot to ask. It’s just the way it is.”

“But how can I do it? How can I handle it?”

(For more, see next post)

Messages From Angels - Hold the Bus: Angels in the Driver's Seat - (post 4 of 6)

Note: One of my favorite parts of my spiritual job description is when I am asked to be a messenger for benevolent angelic forces. I often receive messages for people whose angels or spiritual guardians ask me to communicate when it is a matter of urgency or they are having a hard time getting through to their human counterparts. Many of these people are strangers to me and our interactions last only moments. These messages can be warnings of illness or accident. They can also be intended to clarify or give direction. Whatever they are, I play my role as messenger faithfully.

(continued… click here for post 1, post 2, post 3)

“You have mental health issues,” I said continuing eye contact and lowering my voice to create a gentle impact.
In response, he asked, “Who is talking to you?” 

“Your angels,” I replied.

“My…..?” He stopped in mid-sentence with a shocked look on his face. Once again he clutched the fabric of his shirt in his hand.

“They’re out there,” I said.  

He stared at me wordlessly, the look of shock lingering on his face.

Because many of the people to whom I am asked to deliver messages are strangers, I do not understand fully what it is about each individual that motivates the Angels to bring us together. I do believe that each person who receives a message is spiritually open and willing to listen, although the degree of willingness and openness varies.  I also believe that each person who receives a message has been praying, meditating, or searching for direction, answers or help. Each individual has his or her own way of communicating with the Divine.  Each is different in the degree of conscious recognition given to Divine influences.  I believe that the Angels take into consideration all of these factors when deciding how I am to deliver a message, the circumstances under which I am to deliver it and what I am to say.  This in turns allows for the greatest amount of assistance and help to be offered.

With respect to the man in the red shirt on the bus, I sensed that while it was vital that he understood that the Divine exists and cares for him, the idea that angelic beings were going so far as to send personalized messages was a bit overwhelming. I was also cognizant of the fact that I had a limited amount of time to deliver the message. Hoping to put him at ease while keeping the conversation on track, I rephrased my answer, “Okay, let’s just say angels. I’m listening to angels.” 
 
This seemed to put him at ease. “I do have mental health issues” he confirmed, “from the abuse. What else do you see about my health?”

I sensed only a discomfort in the stomach area.  “Digestive?” I offered.

“No. Well, my stomach hurts right now. Because you’re freaking me out!”

“Are you on lithium?”

“No. I was on lithium.  Now the lithium, the lithium made my stomach hurt!” he said laughing. “Now I’m on another medication!”

“Oh, okay, because I knew it was mental health issues because the world ‘lithium’ was jumping out of your head when you asked about your health issues. I’m not getting anything else about your health.”

“Oh good. I’m glad. I’ve had heart issues, so if you don’t see anything….”

“You’ve got to deal with your pain,” I said, continuing with the message.

“I don’t think I can.”

“You can,” I reassured him.

“I don’t want to feel it anymore.”

“I know, but you’ve got to. It’s the only way out. You can do it. As for the alcohol, you need to stop drinking. What you are using to self-medicate, to help you deal with the pain, it is hurting you. There are other ways to help yourself. We all have parts of us that are fragmented from trauma, that can’t hold it together. Not all of us have the immediate opportunity to heal those wounds.”

“Everyone is raped by another man?” he asked.  

(For more, see next post)

Messages From Angels - Hold the Bus: Angels in the Driver's Seat - (post 3 of 6)

Note: One of my favorite parts of my spiritual job description is when I am asked to be a messenger for benevolent angelic forces. I often receive messages for people whose angels or spiritual guardians ask me to communicate when it is a matter of urgency or they are having a hard time getting through to their human counterparts. Many of these people are strangers to me and our interactions last only moments. These messages can be warnings of illness or accident. They can also be intended to clarify or give direction. Whatever they are, I play my role as messenger faithfully.

(continued… click here for post 1, post 2)

“What I am getting,” I replied, “is that your son attributes his pain to his relationship with you, to growing up without a father. This is an opportunity for you to begin correcting that, but you have to understand you will have to set limits and demand that he grow up. It will force you to be different too.” 

“I’ve been working on my own stuff. I’ve been changing,” he said.

“You will do another layer of this work. The pain that your son is dealing with is the same as your pain.”

“I hope not,” he said, “I was sexually molested as a child. Raped. By another man.” This confession felt heavy, like metal.  Psychic pain and confusion radiated from him and the gravity of his situation became apparent to me. I also appreciated his ability and willingness to get right to the point. 

At the same time, as he revealed this fact, a quiet lucidity settled over him and the anxiety left his eyes.  In his voice was certainty, as if the mass of his confusion swirled around one central point of clarity: the devastation he experienced to this day as a result of these childhood violations.  He had the look of a man searching for an escape and a man at a loss to find a way out. I watched his eyes as he assessed the internal wasteland in which he roamed. The faint smell of alcohol wafted from a puff of his breath.

The words of the angels continued and I spoke them to him, returning to the topic of his son’s pain. “It doesn’t have to be the same experience,” I said.  “Our children get a piece of our pain, almost as if we give it to them. Your son feels hurt by you. Were you not hurt by your parents?”

“I was hurt by family members.”

“That’s how it goes.”

Suddenly, he switched topics. “My health. Tell me what you see about my health,” he commanded. 

I stared at him.  He stared at me.  Though he had volunteered information about his family situation earlier, when it came to the question of his health he had offered no facts for me to go on.  I sensed he was testing me.  After all, if I, a complete stranger, could tell him about known health issues, then the other information in the message was more likely to be trustworthy.  I was impressed by his instincts.  I would have to read him cold.  

I continued to return his stare.  In silence I waited for the information to come.  The words “mental health” and “lithium” jumped out of his head. I did not pick up anything else in his body.

I wanted to tell him what I saw but was nervous about embarrassing him.  There is a social stigma around mental illness and I did not want him to feel that I was judging him.  Still I knew that if I was not honest – and did not come forward with the information - he would not trust me or the message.  

(For more, see next post)

Messages From Angels - Hold the Bus: Angels in the Driver's Seat - (post 2 of 6)

Note: One of my favorite parts of my spiritual job description is when I am asked to be a messenger for benevolent angelic forces. I often receive messages for people whose angels or spiritual guardians ask me to communicate when it is a matter of urgency or they are having a hard time getting through to their human counterparts. Many of these people are strangers to me and our interactions last only moments. These messages can be warnings of illness or accident. They can also be intended to clarify or give direction. Whatever they are, I play my role as messenger faithfully.

(continued… click here for post 1)

“There are some family things that need to be worked out. You need some family ties,” I said.

“No, it’d only be me and him up there.”

“That’s what I mean.”

The bus arrived.

“It will be challenging….”  I hesitated to say the next part of the message for fear of offending him.  I listened again to the angels to make sure I was hearing it correctly and then repeated it to him.  “It’ll force you both to grow up but it will help you,” I said.

He tilted his head and shifted his gaze when I said the words “grow up,” but he did not seem offended. I walked away and from him toward the bus door. His voice followed me as I got on the bus and paid the bus driver. 

“Whoa, wait. I want to talk about this more. Who are you? This is crazy!” he exclaimed…..

He got onto the public bus.  After paying, he took a seat next to me at the front of the vehicle on the long, bright blue plastic bench normally reserved for elders and disabled passengers.  He rested one elbow on the top edge of the seat, turned his torso toward me, closed his right hand into a fist and rested his forehead against it. The faded red of his shirt contrasted with the energetic blue of the bus seat rounded beneath his body.  His eyes met mine.

“I want to talk more about this,” he said, “Who are you?”

We leaned toward one another. On either side of us, steel poles curved up from beneath the seats and rose toward the ceiling of the bus, the boundaries of a sudden sanctuary within which we found the freedom to speak freely.  Though on a public bus, it was as if we rode in a bubble of privacy.

Before the bus had arrived, we had waited at a bus stop, chatting in the cold twilight. In the dark of the bus stop, I had not been able to see the details of his facial features.  Within the brightly lit interior of the bus, I saw that his eyes were blue, watery, anxious and also earnest.  I saw a gash that ran up the center of his forehead and disappeared into his hair line.  The wound looked as if at one time it had cleaved to the bone; now, there was just a jagged streak of dried blood in the gap between two flaps of regenerating skin.
While waiting for the bus, I had begun to deliver a message and now our conversation continued. In response to his question I repeated, “I get messages from spirits and I deliver them to people.”

He told me more about his relationship with his son and about how, due to conflicts with his son’s mother, he had not only experienced painful wounds, he also had not been in his son’s life since the child was nine months old. As he spoke, the words of the angels came through and I continued delivering the message. 

(For more, see next post)