An endless plane of grassy fields is colored with flowers and children – children running and playing, sitting in groups, contemplating alone, or resting on mossy meadows. The whole landscape brightly lit yet there is no sun; the sky is the light.
Amazed I ask, “Where are we?” “This is the Book of Life.” “I thought it was some sort of a scroll.”
“No, not a dead scroll,” corrected the Messenger, “the Book of Life is a living book.”
But still being a book, it lives only in the moment. Every child that will ever be born is in the spirit here. The spirit child is aware of its natural child’s conception, and as the embryo grows it talks to it, comforting it and explaining things to it, and at the right time leaves here to become one with it.
The gravity is low, so we make great strides effortlessly. Strolling through a field, we come under a group of trees with children sitting high on the flowering branches. “How do they get up there?” I wonder.
“They fly. If you ever dream about flying, those sensations come from these memories.”
“Well, I used to soar like an eagle, but now I dream more like a grasshopper.”
Two little girls slide off their branch and landing gently right next to me slip their hands into mine.
Startled I look at them and they smile back familiarly as if we walk like this all the time.
Suddenly at a distance appears a vibrant pillar of light spinning-off rainbows. All children run even fly towards it including the little girls, who let go of my hand and are gone. I ask what that light is. “That’s the Angel of God.” “What is it?”
God, the Supreme Being, is beyond comprehension. The Angel of God appears as a revelation of God’s attributes understandable to that individual. You visualize God as a source of light, power, and life, and that’s what you see.
“What do the children see?”
“Their mothers, who to them reveal God’s goodness and love,” explains the Messenger.
“But what if an embryo ultimately doesn’t make it?”
“Its spirit child remains here, still loving that mother and running into her embrace every time.”
My final question is about the two little girls who walked with us.
“They are your daughters!”
Back in the capsule, who knows what to make of all this.
But the thought of little twin redheads in my life warms my heart and puts a smile on my face.
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