Journey
Into
Spirituality
LAURA LAFORCE
© Copyright 2010 Laura Laforce
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This includes the right to reproduce this book in parts thereof in any form. The exception of the above is for the quotation of passages by a reviewer in print or through electronic mass media.
Published by Talk Enterprises in the year 2012 – 2nd Revision
Converted by http://eBookIt.com
The official website for Laura Laforce is
Journey into Spirituality is the first book
written by Laura Laforce.
Laforce, Laura
Journey into Spirituality/Laura Laforce
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0848-4
Names, identities and situations have been changed
and or altered in this book.
The stories are based on my life experiences.
DEDICATION
“TO MY LOVED ONES”
“MAY YOU EXPERIENCE AND GROW THROUGH SPIRIT
IN YOUR JOURNEY OF LIFE.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I WOULD LIKE TO EXTEND A SPECIAL WARM THANK YOU
TO MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS WHO SUPPORTED ME
ON MY JOURNEY.
I LOVE YOU ALL. YOU’RE A FANTASTIC BUNCH OF SOULS.
INTRODUCTION
Many people are experiencing regular spiritual encounters, but are silent out of fear of being judged. The search is on for the missing pieces of the spiritual puzzle. Perhaps my experiences will reflect some of the answers you have been seeking.
Loved ones are returning to visit us from the other side. They are attempting to communicate in a variety of ways. These visits are ranging from realistic dreams to appearing physically while awake. They’re souls often appear in a lit-up beam called an orb. It is common for our loved ones to drop coins, touch hair, and cause electrical disturbances to get our attention.
Déjà vu verifies specific events. Déjà vu is the sudden familiarity of a place and or situation. I’ve been here before or already seen this. Déjà vu confirms our life’s path or map. These points of recollection verify the direction you have previously chosen.
People are having premonitions, but are unsure of how to deal with the information. Having premonitions can be overwhelming leading to anxiety. Premonitions are notifications of upcoming events. These pieces of information surface spontaneously.
Anyone is capable of having spiritual experiences, but development is a choice. This is much like acquiring the skills to play a sport. After devoting time, the results materialize.
This book was written with the intention of being able to share my personal life experiences as a psychic medium. As a medium, I have been able to explore what is generally unseen and unknown. On a daily basis I interact with my spirit guides. Receiving invaluable information makes living easier. I communicate with the dead. I have accompanied souls to the doorway, which leads to the other side. While witnessing these souls on their departure, I have seen angels.
Join me on my journey into spirituality and watch as events unfold.
Chapter 1
MY CHILDHOOD
My life hasn’t been fun, easy or magical. I faced many challenges at a young age. By four, I was the oldest of three children. My brothers were one and two years old and shared a twin-like bond. I was the loner, two’s company, three’s a crowd.
At four years old, I awoke in a panic. My parents were fighting again. Angry shouting and crashing penetrated the morning air. After the noise stopped, I heard nothing else. I knew something was terribly wrong. I quietly opened my parents’ bedroom door, trembling with fear.
I rushed into their bedroom and faced a horrifying bloody disaster. Big bright red splotches of blood smeared the surface of their white frayed bedspread. One of the lamps laid across the top of the bed with a partially intact blood splattered damaged lamp shade. The other lamp was hanging off a tilted nightstand by its cord. Bloody tissues were strewn about the room. Spots of blood speckled the grey tiled floor, but my parents were nowhere to be seen.
In distress I frantically cried out looking for my parents. My father met me in the hallway, drying his hands on a dark towel. “We’re cleaning up” he told me as he headed into the bathroom.
A social worker rang the doorbell after a while. My mother went somewhere with the social worker. She didn’t come home for many days. I stayed home with my father and my brothers. Father told me Mom wasn’t feeling well and went for help. I remember my father reading me my favorite book while she was away.
Shortly after she returned home, we moved. The house we had been living in was on the verge of being condemned. We were poor and lived on welfare.
It was, while living in the next house, I discovered I could go through walls while sleeping. At four years old, I was astral-travelling.
My parents separated shortly after we moved. My mother had a restraining order against my father. He wasn’t allowed to see me any more.
At five, I recognized the difference between life and death. I came across two dead ducks while playing outside. They were lying on top of a black garbage bag. I knew they were dead. I noticed how peaceful they both looked.
Around five I could sense the energy of different people. I knew if they were good or bad without talking to them.
At six, my mother was bathing me with my youngest brother. There was a little over four years between us. Mother was sitting on the lid of the toilet seat supervising us. My brother lost his balance while grabbing a toy and slid under the water. Mother quickly grabbed him in a hurried panic. In anger, she pushed me down, holding my head under the bath water.
With my dark hair and hazel eyes, I resembled my father. Mother resented this. The following statements would often be said before Mother flew off the handle punishing me:
“You look like your father,” she’d tell me.
“You’re a liar just like him,” she’d repeatedly tell me.
“Be glad I raised you, I never wanted a girl,” she would utter.
I usually didn’t understand why I was being disciplined. After she calmed down, she would approach me, claiming she did it because she loved me.
At seven, a strange bearded man came to the door handing mother Christmas presents. I wasn’t much of a reader but as I struggled to see whose gifts they were. I noticed my name on a gift tag. A three letter word was printed under my name. After repeatedly sounding out the letters of the word was Dad. By then he was gone.
“Was that Dad?” I asked.
“Is he coming back? I want to see him.” Mother remained silent. I was upset and started to cry. I missed him and loved him very much.
At the end of grade two, I brought home my final report card. Mother handed me a card, wanting me to read it to her. I sat looking at it, but couldn’t read it. Minutes later she became angry. She grabbed me by the arm and led me to the door.
“I