From Chapter 2
My memories of the spirit world were a source of comfort and inspiration during the difficult transition back to my life in my body. As the week of recovery in the hospital passed, family and friends visited, but my mind could focus only on what I could not talk about. I wanted to share my experience with them, but the right words would not come. Back as a mortal being, I had only the English language to express thoughts and events that no earthly language was capable of communicating. Frustrated, I gave up trying to verbalize them, and I seldom brought the subject up again. Joe didn’t question me or ask for further details, and I could tell that he actually became uncomfortable at the mention of my experience.
On several occasions, I noticed him thoughtfully watching me, often with tears in his eyes, and I knew that what preoccupied and frightened him most was that he had almost lost me!
I was more interested in reliving the experience in my mind than discussing it. I would vividly recall each moment spent with Jesus in detail—not trying to hold on to the memory for fear of losing it, but rather thrilling each time to my newfound love for God and the freedom I received from it. I remembered his incredible countenance, and how powerfully it reminded me that, other than God, my eternal Father, none other was greater than he. He was Jesus, my Lord and Savior, and yet I knew that what we named him was unimportant to him. I knew that he had the ability to appear to me or others in more than one way . . . however it was necessary for us to experience him and accept him. As I had looked at Jesus in all his glory, somehow I knew that not only was I accepting of his presence, but I was worthy of him. Jesus, I “knew,” need never show me the nail prints in his hands nor the gash in his side as proof of who he was. I belonged to him just as I was, and the fact that he had suffered pain was not the issue now. His divine expression of love was, and I never questioned that.
The aura surrounding his body was brilliant white and full of energy. Although this light shone brightly around him, I saw that he was the light and it came from within him. Light reflected off what appeared to me to be his flesh. His crystalline body resembled what could be spun light, though it was solid and firm, having the three dimensions of length, breadth, and thickness. Prisms of intense light spiraled, pulsated, and moved with each minuscule change in his thoughts or desires. His eyes, though liquid with his love, somehow danced like fire, flickering with energy and life when he needed to express, to me his most sincere and earnest wishes for me. I have sought out many pictures of Jesus since my return, and some capture an emotion that I saw him express, but an exact portrait of him in all his glory would be impossible to paint with the materials and colors we have here on earth.
Our communication was nonverbal, all thoughts and feelings that we chose to express were expressed directly, straight from his heart to mine and vice versa. Still, our communication could be felt and understood by others when it was meant to be. Our nonverbal exchange was translated to our language here and impressed firmly into me as I would understand it as a mortal being. The language expressed there could certainly be described as universal in nature. I understood perfectly every word that Jesus “spoke” to me, to the council of men, and to me spiritual guides. Sometimes I would actually feel and experience his voice. When this happened, it was meant to be more personal, in that his voice resonated within me, the rich vibrant tones actually penetrating my spiritual being. It came as a melody that I could feel as if I were an instrument he was playing. His voice gave me life, and I became healed by it. No greater joy have I experienced since his unconditional love for me!
The rays of light surrounding Jesus were filled with knowledge and love. Just standing in his presence and absorbing it gave me the ability to expand the love and knowledge within. My spiritual body filled to almost bursting with his divine love and understanding. I became a part of all there ever was, living it, experiencing it, then somehow nurtured by it. The spirit, not unlike the human mind, must be receptive and flexible in order to expand and develop as I did. I never thought that I had either of these qualities, but I could accept the fact that all things are possible through God.
I had thought that I looked forward to returning to my home and family, but when I entered the front door, everything seemed strange and uninviting. I felt closed in. Trapped. My spirit recalled another place more comforting and pleasant. I needed the space, color, and melodies that had filled me with healing, loving tones. That beautiful place had also been filled with people whom I loved dearly; while I could no longer recall a name or face, nevertheless, I knew I had loved them deeply, and my heart yearned for them now.
Coming back from the spirit world gave me a new awareness of this world. It changed not only the way I saw the world, but the way I saw myself. The things that I had once desired for my family and for myself were no longer so appealing. I used to long for material things, and I had sacrificed for many of them. But now I could see how easy it is to get caught up in materialism—and how it can hold us back from our spiritual focus! I had let my interests get caught up with things, and then those things began to own me! . . .
—The Awakening Heart, pages 13-17