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What occurred in the miracle of childhood innocence would have a complete turnaround in my adult knowing. From within the realm of a magical and innocent creative genius, five year old me, shone a voice so loud and clear I couldn’t believe I could hear such magical forces of Light. Like a beam emitting from Heaven, Angels spoke!

Out in the backyard of my early childhood home, I would often lay in the grass looking up at the skies and clouds with all the imaginations, of a child, running through my thoughts, waiting for the Angels. Ever so patiently I listened for the sounds coming from the sky. Waiting for them to speak their intangible melodious words. Mostly, it was a beautiful lady Angel but on the odd occasion, even more amazingly, a man angel would speak his soft words of courage and comfort. “We are here”. Ever so excitedly, I would race inside to my mother to tell her the angels are speaking to me, before running back outside to lay in the grass some more, reaching out to the heavens in anticipation of their further truth. How magical and innocent was that time. Beautiful in its making and memory. Bitter sweet in its eventuality…

We moved house one Christmas holidays and I never heard the angels voices again until I was in my early twenties. I’d forgotten all about them with the hurrying of life but as I walked down a busy city street one day, I was stopped dead in my tracks. From somewhere behind me that extraordinary voice cried out once more. Shocked in disbelief, it straight away took me back to my childhood and those wondrous times. My mind exclaimed, ‘they’re back’! Much to the irritation of other people walking along the foot path behind me, I turned around, frozen in time. Waiting and listening patiently, just as I’d done before, without as much as a breath and as she spoke again, I gasped!

No, no, no! It couldn’t be! My angels turned out to be an office worker calling to someone
on the loud speaker system. Gutted and unable to move for a moment, I gathered my
thoughts and laughed to myself, bitterly disappointed that my beautiful childhood angels
were mere mortals going about their business, after all.

Up the road from where we lived in my early childhood was a large factory with offices and
workers. So sadly, I realised in that moment that it must have been the secretary calling out
to someone in the factory. I don’t really know why I’m telling you this but only to say that
not all things come from the ‘other world’, no matter how much you want them to be.
If you have the inkling you’d like to try your hand at becoming a psychic or Medium, it is so
important to have your feet firmly planted on the ground otherwise, you may find yourself in
all manner of trouble and fanciful flight. It’s not always Angels who speak. None the less, I
am still highly disappointed.

How I believed in Angels, I just do not know. Why did they seem to live in the sky above?
Heaven was a realm I always believed existed but how and why, is not tangible to me now. I
do remember seeing Spirit forms though from a very early age, so perhaps there’s a spark of
truth in the retelling there? It doesn’t matter…

I love the memory of my angels speaking to me from heaven. I will never forget the beauty
and magic in which they spoke to my innocent, five year old heart. It still brings me great
joy and warmth. The reality now, of course, is that I do believe in Higher Beings and their
purpose. We all have them with us. They are Beings of great beauty and Light and only
have our best interest at heart. They do indeed support us through the most strenuous of
lives, here on Earth. However, for the sake of keeping it real, I have to tell you my little
story in its context of the making of a Medium. Sad face.

J xx