Love, Compassion and Empathy in Healing

Greetings!

After I moved back to this state, the small church in the other state continued to email me Sunday newsletter every week.  Below the list of the upcoming speakers, events / workshops, news and people that asked for prayers was an excerpt from the lectures of the founder of the church.  I loved reading the excerpts.  The words were uplifting and inspiring.    

I did not know anything about the founder of the church before I moved to that state.  He passed away in 1994.  I moved there in August of 2007.  In Sept. 2007, the teacher of healing called me from her state.  She asked me to go to a Unity church to meet two traveling Unity ministers that had learned the healing art.  She had hoped that the three of us would offer healing after Sunday service.  It did not happen because the two ministers had their personal agenda.  Afterward, they continued to travel to other Unity churches in U.S.A.  While I was at Unity, a mother and daughter talked to me.  They were both mediums that talked to spirits.  They told me another church might be the right one for me.  They gave me the directions.  They were right.  I eventually called that small church my spiritual home.

The founder of the church was a known psychic, channel, and spiritual teacher.  He gave readings by getting into a trance like Edgar Cayce, the Sleeping Prophet.  He also channeled universal wisdom.  In his lectures, he talked in depth about healing.  A while back, I read an excerpt where he said if we loved another person more than ourselves, we could practically feel what that person felt, and healing could occur.  (I could not recall the exact words, but this was my understanding.)  I thought, "Really?  But how many of us can love others more than ourselves?"  

                                            ~       ~       ~       ~       ~       ~

After the conversation with my son about the father and son getting emotional on the TV, a few incidents came to my mind.  (Re He asked, "Why (do you tear up)? They are not related to you. )

During the challenging restaurant years, some earth angels walked in and became my friends.  I am eternally grateful for their love and support.

One of the earth angels was a woman who believed in angels and spirits.  She and her husband ordered food from us regularly.  They were in their 70 s.  Her husband used to come to pick up their carry orders.  Later, her husband passed away.  The woman / my friend began to come in and eat instead of ordering carryout.  She often came after or before the rush hours so that we could talk.  I enjoyed listening to her stories.  She walked with a cane.  Some days she seemed to be in pain walking, but she was always cheerful.  Once in a while, she brought along her next door neighbor to our restaurant.

In September, 2001, she came in.  I saw that she was in a lot of pain.  I asked how she was doing.  She said the pain in her feet was getting worse, and the pain kept her up at night.  She told me her husband died of bone cancer.  She was afraid she might have bone cancer too.  She said she had make an appointment to see a doctor.  

I began to pray for her at night.  One night in late September, her next door neighbor came in.  It was the first time her neighbor came in by herself.  After I brought out her food, she said, "I come to tell you that your friend is very sick.  You better pray for her."  My friend had told me that her neighbor did not believe in angels, prayer, and life after death.  It showed how much her neighbor cared about her.  I was very concerned about my friend.  That night I prayed with all my heart and soul for my friend.  I continued to pray for her whenever I thought of her.

On Oct. 2, 2001, I went to bed around 2 a.m.  Less than two hours later, severe pain inside the bottom of my feet woke me up.  I curved my feet towards my upper body.  From my experiences, this usually freed me from cramps.  It did not work this time.  I had cramps during pregnancy.  It was a long, long time ago.  Once in a long while, I did experience minor pain on my feet, but this time the pain was terrible.  I rose from bed to hold my feet with my hands.  I imagined healing energy enfolded my feet (I learned this from books).  It did not help.  The pain was too much to bear.  All of a sudden, I heard myself yelled,

                                           "In the Name of God, heal!"

                                           "In the Name of God, heal!"

                                           "In the Name of God, heal!"

The pain abruptly subsided.  Luckily, my yelling did not wake my husband up.  While I was a light sleeper, my husband was a heavy sleeper.  Lying in bed, I wondered what overcame me to say those words.  Every time when I got sick, I begged God to heal me.  Even during the 4 days and nights excruciating pain ordeal, I just kept repeating, "God, please heal me. God, please heal me."  "In the Name of God, heal!" sounded like a command to me.  I had never said that before.  As the pain subsided, I fell asleep again with a heart of gratitude.  (Re the 4 days and nights ordeal see my post The Grace of God )

On Oct.3, 2001, my friend walked in without a cane.  I assumed her visit to the doctor must have helped her.  I asked her about it.  She said she had not seen the doctor yet for her appointment was the following week.  She said she woke up feeling much better on Oct. 2, and had since been walking without a cane.  Seeing the smile back on her face, I was very happy for her.

Another incident was about a black woman who worked in a store.  

She was a cashier.  Sometimes she worked at the lottery counter.  Whenever she saw me and my husband, she greeted us with a big smile.  She waved at us with a great smile from her checkout lane even when we lined up at other checkout lane.  (My husband often chose a lane with the least number of customers.)  I had seen many customers smiled back at her just as we did because she was so nice and friendly.  

One afternoon, I went shopping for the restaurant.  I saw her working at the lottery counter*.  One look at her, I knew she was very sick.  I went to buy a lottery ticket.  I asked, "How are you doing?"  In a barely audible voice, she told me she had been sick for some days and her whole body hurt terribly.  I asked if she had seen a doctor.  She said she did, but the medicine did not help.  I suggested for her to take some days off and rest at home.  She said she had already taken a few sick days.  She had to come to work because she needed money to pay the rent.  I looked at her with lots of compassion.  (*This was the same store that I wrote about in Words of Christ and the 4444 Incident - Part 2.  The lottery counter used to be right by the entrance.  The layout of the store is different now.)

That night I knelt down by the side of the bed and prayed for the cashier.  As I prayed, excruciating pain came over my entire body.  It had never happened before while I was praying.  Despite of the terrible pain, I continued to pray.  When I finished praying, I was surprised the pain was completely gone.  I was fine.

The next day, my husband asked me to go to the store to buy something for the restaurant.  Again, I saw the woman at the lottery counter.  She looked at me with her usual wonderful smile.  I asked how she was doing.  She said she felt great because she was no longer in pain.  I was glad she was well.  I thought the pain I felt while praying could just be a coincidence.

In the restaurant years, other customers had asked me to pray for them every now and then.  On some occasions, the customers told me they were visiting our state or they lived in cities that were not nearby.  They happened to drive past our restaurant, and wanted to come in to order food.  While waiting for their orders, they began to tell me a family member was sick.  Before they left, they asked me to pray for him or her.  In most cases, I did not see them again.  When I prayed for others, I never felt pain except in the above two cases.  I usually prayed while sitting on my bed.  Looking back, I must really hope that the divine would intercede and show grace in the cashier's situation that I knelt down to pray.

I was happy that my friend and the cashier were feeling much better.  However, I could not help but wondered if I felt pain merely by coincidence, or I had experienced their pain.  I believed ** I had said to my guides and angels that I would continue to pray for others, but I did not want to experience other's pain anymore.  (** It was not recorded in my journal.)  Since then, I had not felt any physical pain when I prayed for others.    

When my friend and the cashier talked to me, I listened with love and compassion.  I did not feel their physical pain.  I was sensitive since I was young.  I could feel who was sad or happy, but had no idea why he / she was in such a mood.  I thought it was only because I was observant and / or thoughtful.  When I said to my son that I was empathetic, many things that I had gone through with doubt suddenly became clear.  I was empathetic to a certain degree and yet not overly sensitive.  It helped me to maintain my peace and balance.  It helped me to connect with others and be a conduit of healing.

Love and Blessings,

Q of D

  

He asked, "Why (do you tear up)? They are not related to you."

Greetings!

The TV was on.  On the left of the screen was a father whose son (and his team) had been qualified to play in the NCAA basketball tournament.  The father was answering the reporter's question from home.  On the right side of the screen was his son who sat on a bench in the locker room.  I did not watch from the beginning, but it seemed it was the young man's first time playing in a tournament.  I could sense both father and son were very emotional about making the tournament.  The father tried to say some words of encouragement and how proud he was of his son.  He was choked with emotions, and had a hard time saying what he wanted to say.  The young man became very emotional too.  He raised his hands over his face, and wiped his tears repeatedly.  My eyes teared up.

My son happened to walk past and saw what happened on the TV.   My son was into bodybuilding.  He was not interested in basketball or football.  He looked at his father who had been watching TV.  His father showed no emotion or reaction.  He turned to look at me.  

He asked, "Why did the father cry?"  

I said, "He is very proud of his son."  

My son said, "He should be happy.  I don't understand why he cried."  

I said, "It is a different expression of joy.  When people finally achieve what they want to accomplish, the feeling can be personal and not that easy to express.  Sometimes we have a hard time talking because we are choked with emotions.  Did you remember your voice choked when you made a toast on your brother's wedding?"  

He said, "Yes, I did."  For a brief second, he paused as if to look back at that moment.  He added, "I did not expect that to happen.  But, I did."  

I said, "Before the wedding, other people said I would cry.  I said I would not.  I was happy for your brother, and  thought that I would smile throughout the wedding.  When they said their vows, tears ran down my face because I was deeply touched.  Your brother's truthful words touched everybody, and XX (my daughter-in-law) cried too.  There is nothing wrong with crying."  I added, "You know, my eyes teared up too watching the father and son on TV."  

My son was surprised to hear that.  He asked, "Why?  They are not related to you."  

I said, "It is because I am empathetic."  

I went on to tell him a similar incident that happened some years ago.  A female TV host was leaving the morning show.  On her last day on the show, her co-hosts and coworkers had made some special arrangement to show their appreciation.  The camera followed her as she walked around to acknowledge and thank her friends / coworkers.  On her face was a bright, joyful smile.  This went on for quite a while.  Suddenly, I said, "Oh, no!  She is going to cry!"  His father (my husband) looked at me with that "what are you talking about" look.  On the TV, the woman was still smiling, but she soon broke down and cried.  I knew before it happened because I felt what she felt.  She was deeply moved by the love of her friends.

My son said, "Many times I do not understand why people cry.  I am glad I don't have that kind of emotion."

I looked at him.  I said, "You probably concluded crying was a sign of weakness when you were young.  We often react to situations in a certain way due to the view or conclusion we draw from our past experiences.  Sometimes the situations we are in may seem similar, yet nothing in life is ever exactly the same.  We can always adjust our views, and handle things differently.  You say you don't want to talk about emotions, but you have talked to me about emotions on some occasions."  I smiled and added, "You talk to me about bodybuilding all the time.  Though you say you do not want to hear anything spiritual, I am going to say that when you block your emotions, you are also blocking the flow of love in some ways.  And, we are beings of love."

My son listened and did not say anything.  On his face was an expression of peace.  The old him would have taken a strong stance against hearing anything about love or spirituality.  It did not necessary mean that he took in what I said this day.  However, it did show he was now more patient, tolerant or accepting of others than he was some years ago.

                                            ~       ~       ~       ~       ~       ~

When my son asked, "Why (do you tear up)?  They are not related to you."

I said, "It is because I am empathetic."  

I never said "I am empathetic'' before.  As these words came out of my mouth, I was a little surprise.  At the same time, it was like a realization or a remembrance.  It was hard to describe.  There were past incidents that I went through wondering if they were merely coincidence.  Now, everything seemed to make sense.  I would share a few of the incidents in my next post.   

There are many people like me that tear up hearing other people's stories and experiences.  Why do we feel that way?  Is it only our simple emotional response?

We may not be related by blood, yet we are far more connected than we can imagine.  

Good Night!

Love and Blessings,

Q of D

A Chance Meeting at the Deli Counter

Greetings!

Last Tuesday I was in a store at the deli counter waiting for my turn.  After quite a while, the same ticket number remained on the visitor monitor.  The three deli workers were busy helping customers with that number and numbers before that.  Since there were six numbers ahead of my number, I waited patiently.

I saw a man walked toward the deli department.  He seemed to look at the display items around the counter, yet I saw him glanced over my direction a couple of times.  When he was a little bit closer (i.e. a few feet away), he looked at me and said, "I want to tell you that you can self-publish a book."  My immediate thought was I must have heard it wrong!  I looked at him.  He seemed to be a quiet gentleman (i.e. he was not someone who was openly friendly that would strike a conversation with anyone).  I asked, "What did you just say?"  He paused and did not answer right away.  Then he said, "I have self-published a book."  I was relieved that I had heard it wrong.  How unthinkable it would be if he, a total stranger, really said what I thought I heard.  

I said, "You have self-published a book!  That's great!"  He told me the title of his book, and said it was listed on 26 browsers globally.  He said his book was on demand, and sold in many countries.  He mentioned some countries.  He said his book could help people in many different ways.  Then he went on to tell me how he self-published his book in great detail.  

Since there were other people around, we talked in a soft voice.  I could not listen with my whole attention.  My focus was on the deli visitor monitor and the deli counter for I did not want to miss my turn.  As a result, sometimes I did not hear clearly of what he said.  Besides, we were talking with our masks on.  (In our state, we were required to wear masks.)  He told me about the publisher that helped people to self-publish books.  The publisher's name had a sound similar to a Chinese last name.  For a brief second, I thought "Oh, it is a Chinese company!"  As he mentioned the publisher again, I realized it was my misunderstanding.  I kind of laughed within realizing the cultural effect in my listening / understanding.  I asked if he had to pay any money up front.  He said he had to sign a contract and pay a down payment.  He related the fee in total.  I said, "It is a lot of money!"  He said he was not a writer, and used to work as an engineer.  He submitted what he wrote, and the publisher did the rest.  By self-publishing his book, he got to keep 80% of the sales while the publisher only got 20%.    

I asked him, "How long does it take for you to write the book?"  He said, "Five and a half years."  I said, "Wow, you spent that many years to write the book!  What cause you to write the book?"  He said, "I answer to the calling."  I did not expect to hear this answer.  He continued to give me some more details about his book, e.g. the size, number of pages and the color of the cover.  I observed it was almost my turn.  I asked, "May I know your name?"  Though he had repeated his name, I only kind of got his first name.  The deli worker called my number, and our conversation ended.  

He talked in length about his book and how he self published the book.  I did not hear the title of his book clearly.  I also did not remember his last name.  Without clear information, I was not successful in looking up his book online.

It was not that unusual that people wanted to start a conversation with another customer in a store.  Later at home, this chance meeting reminded me of other occasions that strangers suggested for me to write or keep writing.  

I was with the Thursday Circle when it happened for the first time.  The holistic center held classes and meetings throughout the week in the morning as well as at night.  On certain weekdays, there were on-site healers and psychics.  During the Thursday Circle, people sometimes walked in to join us.  I observed they might be new to me, but oftentimes most of them were familiar with the teacher of the circle.  It was probably because I did not attend other classes or meetings.  One day, we had a few new faces.  When the meeting was over, a woman stopped me while I was on my way out of the center.  If I recalled correctly, the teacher had introduced her as a known psychic who had her own radio talk show.  She talked about me writing.  Immediately, I said, "No, I don't write.  My English is not good."  She said, "You do write.  You write about your sons and other things that happened in life.  You think nobody is going to read them, but people are going to read what you write.  Keep writing."  I believed she also talked about using the computer or Internet.  At the time, I did not have an email address, and knew nothing about the Internet.  As I wrote, I was not into asking questions.  I walked out of the center feeling very unsettled.

Sometimes I looked back and questioned myself, "What is wrong with me?  Why didn't I ask questions.  I could have learned what to do or more about myself."   

For example, in A strange conversation with a professor , I could have asked to talk to the medium and the professor, but I did not.  There was one time in my experiences that I actually prayed to the divine for a second chance to talk to a woman.  (Re The Lesson of Importance )  

When people I did not know well talked to me, I seldom asked questions.  Many times I felt unsettled afterward.  

Writing this post made me realize I should change.  I have decided that I will ask questions if similar situations happen again.  As the Thursday Circle teacher used to say, "It was the you then.  What has it got to do with the you now?"

Was Tuesday's talk about self-publishing a book merely a chance meeting that bore no significance?  Had I ever thought of writing a book?  

Good Night!

Love and Blessings,

Q of D

 

    

Ten Years Blogging

Greetings!

It is March 2021.  In March 2011, I published my first post A Story of the Touch of God .  Time flies. 

After a winter storm, the old computer that I used as a typewriter died.  About a year later, my younger son convinced me to buy a new one and subscribe for Internet service so that we could video chat.  At the time, we lived in different states about 750 miles apart.  I only got to see them once or twice a year.  Of course, I would love to video chat with them.  My new computer arrived in time for our first video chat on Thanksgiving Day in 2010.  It was wonderful to talk to our loved ones as well as seeing them on the computer screen.  

Afterward, my son kept 'pushing' me to create a blogger account.  In the earlier years of my spiritual journey, my younger son was the one in the family that I shared with some of my experiences.  Therefore, he knew I was told to write and teach in the Dec. 2001 reading.  I was hesitant to do so.  With my limited English, how could I write?  Besides, I regarded my experiences as something personal.  In my human mind, anything that was personal was not supposed to be shared.  However, part of me understood it was something that I should do.  About a year and a half earlier, I 'got' that it was time for me to re-read my journal so that I could share my experiences / the lessons I learned.  I finally agreed to open a blogger account.

Since I knew very little about the computer, my younger son had to guide me over the phone to create an email address and a blogger account.  Over my side (or at my computer), I typed in atonewithbuddha as my email address.  When my son learned of it, he raised some concern.  He said, "Mom, some people may not want to read your blog if you choose that as your email."  I understood his concern.  I said, "But I had already typed in the letters."  My son said, "You can change it or choose another email address."  After some thought, I said, "It is fine.  I already created an email address."  After a pause, my son said, "Okay, it is up to you."  (In my posts, I had mentioned I did not have a religion.  Many people automatically assumed that I was a Buddhist because I am a Chinese.  As I had told a brother at church that I loved Jesus Christ just as I loved Buddha.  (Re Gateway to Heaven )  I did not know why I typed in atonewithbuddha that day.  It might have something to do with my experience during that time.

After creating a blogger account, my son said, "Mom, I know you.  Though I have helped you to create an account, you may not write.  You have to tell me when you will publish your first post."  Yeah, he knew me.  Reluctantly, I said I would publish a post by March 25.  I thought I had given myself plenty of time, but I barely made the deadline.  

Soon I got a call from my son.  He congratulated me for publishing my first post.  My son told me he used to publish his own blog.  However, with work and kids, he had stopped writing.  He asked me, "Mom, why did you begin your post with 'Greetings'?  It looks odd."  I said, "I know nothing about blogging.  I just think I need to begin a post with greetings."  My son said, "You know, you can simply begin a post without 'greetings', and you don't have to close with 'many blessings' too."  He suggested for me to read his blog and other people's blogs.  I went online to read his blog as well as other blogs.  It was true that mine looked odd.  When it was time to publish my second post, I felt more comfortable to begin with 'greetings' and end with 'blessings' than without.  That was the way that I had been connecting with all of you over the years.  My son sometimes said that I was stubborn.  I might be stubborn in some ways.  However, I meant it when I said or wrote 'many blessings' and 'love and peace'.   

In January 2010, I spoke during Sunday service for the first time.  As I had mentioned above, the old computer no longer worked after the winter storm.  I had to write what I planned to talk by hand.  If the computer still worked, I would have printed out the speech in large readable letters.  I wasted many pieces of paper writing and rewriting.  When I finally finished writing , it was very close to the Sunday I was scheduled to talk.  Since my older son did not want to hear anything spiritual, I tried to practice the talk while he was at work.  However, I had a hard time memorizing my speech.  I ended up practicing my talk even when my son was home.  He overheard I began my talk with 'Good morning, my brothers and sisters'.  He immediately said, "Mom, please just say 'Good morning'.  It is so weird to hear what you say!  I have been to church before.  I know nobody say 'good morning, my brothers and sisters'.  You are weird!"  He proceeded to correct the way I said some of the words.  I was glad that he took the time to correct my pronunciation.  In a way, he was right.  It was true that the speakers at church did not begin with the words that I had in mind.  However, I felt there was nothing wrong with the way I addressed the congregation for in truth they were my brothers and sisters.  As I continued to practice, my son protested a few more times.  Later, he left for the gym.  (Since I felt uncomfortable speaking in English, you might wonder why I asked for a chance to speak at church.  Please click to view  Our Voices Matter )

My brothers and sisters at church were very supportive during the two times I spoke.  A brother said, "You must get lots of satisfaction getting standing ovation."  I was surprised to hear that.  I never looked at it that way.  For me, I was very grateful that the church had given me the opportunity to connect and share with the lessons that I had learned.  After I spoke, I felt glad that I had finished the (self-set) assignment.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  (As we connect, we are one in love.  And so it is.)

In the first few years after I bought a new computer, I continued to use it mainly for writing or recording the events in my life.  We moved back to this state near the end of August 2012.  Whenever I had a problem with the computer, I called my younger son.  One day, he said, "Mom, play with the computer.  You won't break it.  The Internet has answers for almost anything.  You can learn how to fix a problem by yourself.  Go to YouTube and search for what you are interested in.  You can listen to music or watch a movie."  Gradually, I spent more time on the computer.  It was true the Internet was very helpful.  

    

In 2016, I wanted to go to spiritual circles / gatherings.  I created another email account for this purpose.  I had been following Natalie Glasson's channeled messages for some months.  The messages from the Divine (e.g. Mahatma, Archangels, Lord Melchizedek, Goddess Community, the Ascended Masters, Lord Buddha and etc.)  were forever loving and supportive.  I watched her videos on YouTube, but sometimes I needed to watch a few times to get the words of certain guidance / invocation.  One day, I decided to subscribe to her email so that I could read the messages.  Subscribing to her channeled messages was one of the best decisions that I had ever made.  Reading the messages helped me much more than just watching the videos.  In later days, I realized I made that decision on Angel's day, Nov. 11, 2016, a 1111 angel number day.    

I had been listening and reading Natalie Glasson's channeled messages for 5 years.  It was only until recently that it suddenly dawned on me that the format I used for my blog was not that weird or odd after all!  You see, the beings that came through Natalie Glasson often began a message with 'greetings' and closed with  'love'.  Sometimes the divine ones began by saying 'greetings my beloved brothers and sisters'.  (e.g. messages from Master Jesus and Master St. Germain)  I read that on the other side or in other dimensions we went to lectures and gatherings too.  It might be I had attended lectures and teachings by the Ascended Ones during my sleep.

Spring is almost here.  I look forward to attend gatherings in person.  

Love and Blessings,

Q of D