“But we’re misinformed?”
He smiled at me.
I was clearly hearing and seeing him, but my brain still couldn’t comprehend. Was this a sign of some terrible mental illness? “This is impossible! Insane!” I wailed. “I’m becoming delusional . . . people just don’t have conversations with guardian angels.”
“You’re disturbed but not in the way you think. Don’t I look real? Don’t I sound real? How else would I know about what happened to you? I was there.”
I stood silent, still afraid to move—rooted to the spot, brow furrowed, eyes squinting with suspicion.
The angel continued to reminisce. “Remember when you sprained your ankle ice skating on that pond? Remember, when you were eight years old, the first pair of glasses? If memory serves, they were speckled pink, and came out in little points at the temple—”
“I hated those glasses! I was completely blind!”
“In many ways, you still are. You asked for guidance in regard to your direction in life. Because of the success of our past relationship, it was decided that I should come to help you get on track. It’s time. You have important work to do. That’s why I’m here. You have not only forgotten about your relationship with me when you were a child, but you have blocked all the dynamics of your destiny, as well. I’ve asked myself time and time again why you are so impatient and why you deliberately choose to do everything the hard way. You make everything so much more difficult than it has to be.”
“I have a destiny?” I asked.
“Every living soul has a very unique destiny that will lead them to true happiness, if only they can discover what it is.”
“I’ve made such a mess of my life,” I lamented.
“That’s precisely why I’m here. Your life has stalled. If you’re willing to listen and do the necessary work, I can help you move forward.”
“So what is it that I’m supposed to do with my life? I’m desperate to make changes right now!”
“All in good time,” he answered. “A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. And believe me, I understand the necessary time frames. That awareness is part and parcel of an angel’s responsibility. By the way, the voice you heard inside of you that suggested you contact Dawn Dugan was none other than mine. Do you see how well we already work together?”
“How long are you going to stay and help me?” I asked.
“As long as it takes,” he replied.
Chapter 8
Hard Lessons in Faith
My journey of a thousand miles began that fateful night with guardian angel John Reid at my side acting as a navigator. I must admit it took some time before I could really feel confident that he wasn’t just a figment of my imagination. For a little while I still worried that I was having some kind of breakdown, but I dismissed that notion as I recognized that my life was slowly and steadily improving just as he said it would.
Initially, I was hesitant to depend on him too much, out of fear that he would vanish as abruptly as he first appeared. But true to his word, he remained faithfully by my side. In fact, he accompanied me everywhere I went. John Reid progressively earned my trust and respect, and our relationship became very natural to me, as it had when I was a child. However, because I was the only one who could see him, I was often embarrassed at work or in public places when I’d forget myself and respond out loud to something that he’d said or done. I was quickly labeled an eccentric due to launching into animated conversations with thin air, or worse, suddenly laughing hilariously at nothing at all.
I’m naturally a very pragmatic, skeptical person, so I was always asking John for proof of the intuitive process. Still fearing I was far too anal retentive to leap headlong into the process, he slowly began to reveal intuitive information to me by sharing simple predictions about the weather, the outcome of the presidential election that was taking place at the time, and what was going to occur within the advertising agency on a day-to-day basis.
As I opened up to the process of angelic communication and began to develop faith in what I was hearing from John, he started to provide intuitive information about other people. That was fascinating! I became much more discriminating with the prospective clients I was pitching because he would warn me about folks who didn’t pay their bills on time. He also saved me from several potential car accidents by saying “Wait!” to prevent me from driving into the path of a vehicle speeding through a red light. John even shared information about present and future health concerns for my family and me.
What’s more, I began to receive intuitive messages about strangers standing next to me at the grocers, dry cleaners, and the neighborhood video store. This information included specifics about their health, physical safety, love life, career, finances, and past life experiences. Just as he had promised, a whole new world was opening up to me.
However, in spite of the fact that I was receiving consistent psychic information about other people, I had no real way of validating the accuracy of what I was picking up. So, once again, I found myself asking John for tangible proof.
John told me that he would be delighted to provide the proof I had been asking for. The next day while I was getting ready to leave for work, he disclosed that he had some intuitive information about a doorman who worked in the apartment building I lived in, and he requested that I pass along an important psychic message to him.
“What? Me? I can’t do that!”
“Why not? When you present the information to him, he’ll provide the proof that you’ve been asking for.”
“I don’t even know him! He’ll think I’m crazy!”
“And your point is . . . ?”
“I don’t want to make a fool of myself!”
“You’d better get used to that, Kim. I’m amazed that you care so much about what other people think. You have to let go of needing other peoples’ approval. Your life will be so much easier when—”
“Of course I care about what other people think! Unlike you, I live on the earthly plane with them. I’m not going to do it, John. I can’t.”
“Okay,” he shrugged. “I just wanted you to tell him that his sister is ill and needs to go to a doctor.”
“Doesn’t the sister know that already?”
“No, she doesn’t. Some illnesses do not have classic, telltale symptoms.”
“Like what kind of illness?”
“Cancer.”
“Oh . . . ” I answered in a small voice. My aunt had recently died of the disease, and her passing was horrific. At first, she complained of a chest cold and a cough that wouldn’t go away, but she never connected those symptoms with cancer. She finally went to the doctor, who diagnosed bronchitis and sent her home with a prescription for an antibiotic. The disease quickly spread throughout her body like wildfire, finally reaching her brain. The woman who had been so vibrant and beautiful was left incapacitated and bedridden, and she spent the last weeks of her life muttering to herself incoherently. Aunt Patsy died in a world all her own, having lost the capacity to recognize any of the loved ones who hovered around her bedside.
“What would I have to do?” I asked in a resigned tone.
“Just pass along exactly what you hear from me.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is.”
“Okay,