Father I love you. Test

How do I know this whole experience was not just a dream, or my imagination?

            This was neither my first nor my only experience in such matters. Following are a few similar experiences, all of which were certainly not dreams. Because of where I was and what I was doing, I know this experience was not a dream. My life is more and more in the Kingdom and less and less in this world. I do not wish to live my life by the expectations of this world, for these are in constant denial of our loving Father, Jesus, the Holy Spirit and Their Kingdom. I do not wish to play the money game or to seek so-called fulfillment in authority, prestige, power, popularity or any other venue, which the spirit of this world defines as “legitimate and worthwhile pursuits.” The spirit of this world seeks only to “devour you and me.” I do not want to have the devil as my father and to live my one and only life pursuing dreams founded on his lies.[1]

            Earlier somewhat similar experience.

            I have kept the following experiences to myself these many years. For the sake of confirming this particular soul experience as being legitimate, I now share some of them with you.

            In Chapter 2, I referred to my spirit/soul appearing to be enclosed in a delicate, exquisite, fine, pure glorious white substance, and a silk-like mantle. The first time I had an experience with material that resembled that of my soul (though I did not know that it resembled my soul at the time) was at my ordination in 1975. I was sitting on a beautiful ornate wooden chair in the sanctuary of Notre Dame Basilica here in Ottawa Canada. The tabernacle was at my left, the altar ahead, and the congregation to my right. During the homily, my spirit was suddenly bombarded with questions like these:

            “What was I doing here?”

            “Don't these people know who I really am?”

            “Don't they know I shouldn't be here?”

            “Don't they know how wicked I really am?”

            “What kind of a hypocrite am I?”

            “Where do I get the nerve to do such terrible things?”

            “How can I deceive others like this?”

            Such similar terrible thoughts stormed my mind and overwhelmed me. My presence there seemed satanical and sacrilegious. I was terrified. I felt hot, flushed, and very ill with a sickening high fever. The heat around me was sweltering. I was suffocating, like being in a locked car on a concrete parking lot at high noon in July. I was nauseated and sick and was certain I was going to faint. Discreetly I glanced at the congregation. Then, from within, still more condemnations.

            “Raymond, you really did it this time. Here you are in a church full of people who are now going to watch you fall off this chair in the sanctuary. What is going to happen then? You'll be the laughing stock of the city.”

            I felt wet and clammy and must have been very pale. Now there was no doubt in my mind I was going to faint. I gave a quick glance at the altar. The archbishop seemed so very far away. The whole scene was like a dream, without sound. Too weak to do anything, I faced the inevitable. From the corner of my eye, I had a closer look at my surroundings. Where could I fall? There were elegantly carved wooden pews, marble steps, and furniture all around me. I feared hitting my head on an edge or a sharp point. I no longer had any hope of surviving this situation and was completely powerless in face of the event now overtaking me.

            As my eyes began to close, I saw “it” coming. It appeared as a delicate silk cloth of the purest white material, embroidered with fine, luxurious silver threads. It was so delicate, that it gave the impression it could float on it’s own. It appeared a little smaller than a handkerchief, though I cannot be sure, since I was ready to blackout.

            It shimmered ever so gently as it came at me from my left side (the tabernacle side). As my eyes were closing, the most delightful breeze I have ever experienced, revitalized me to the very depth of my being. It felt extraordinarily refreshing and ever so comfortably cool, without being cold or wet. It then passed through my head, all of which seemed perfectly normal. Although luxuriously frail, it was decidedly autonomous and self-sufficient. It was so full of the excitement of life in conception it had difficulty containing itself. It was like that life giving morning breeze, nudged across the lake by the warm rays of the rising sun, gently kissing our cheeks as it passes by. Then, just as I was slipping into the darkness, I recovered.

            As it went through my head, I felt every impurity in me completely disappear. I experienced a feeling of complete newness, as if I was just created. In an instant, all those terrible doubts and condemnations, those sensations of weakness, nausea, suffocating heat and faintness, were gone. I now had a sense of well being, health, strength, and power such as I have never known before. I felt that I was the essence of health. I remember having the sensation of holding the basilica in the palm of my hand, its weight and mass being no more than that of a small empty matchbox. Once its passage took place, it (the white “thing”) was gone. I had no interest or concern over where It went. The whole happening seemed normal and natural.

            While all of this was taking place, the liturgy was of course, continuing. No one could possibly imagine what was taking place. When I left my chair to approach the archbishop for my ordination, there was no longer any question or doubt of the propriety of my being there. I knew that I was there because it was by the authority of He who makes such decisions. Everything that God did to bring me to this moment in time and in eternity filled me with awe and wonder.

            Years later I was dumbfounded (and overjoyed) when I heard Daniel 3:49-50 being read at a Lenten service:

            “But the angel of the Lord came down into the furnace beside Azariah and his companions; he drove the flames of the fire outwards, and fanned into them, in the heart of the furnace, a coolness such as a wind or dew will bring, so that the fire did not even touch them or cause them any pain or distress.”

            This experience was no dream, for I was conscious in the Church in front of the congregation the whole time.

            An angel shows me heartbroken persons and asks, "What am I going to do about it?

            Once I was invited to minister to the sick as a volunteer, at the Sudbury General Hospital of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Working with the pastoral care team, our concerns were focused on helping patients and family members deal with sickness and death.

            During my orientation period, as I went from floor to floor, unit to unit and room to room, I felt I was being escorted across a bleak, barren battlefield. I saw wounded bodies lying all over the place. I sensed the presence of an angel at my side, pointing out each casualty to me, showing me their broken hearts, their sufferings, their loneliness, their bewilderment, all caused by heartbreaks. I felt my guide wanted me to see what was happening in this other world, a world I had not known before.

            My eyes saw patients of all shapes and sizes with nearly every illness imaginable. My spirit however, saw many who were suffering or dying because of repeated, severe, acute heartbreaks. I would go so far as to say 90% of those hospitalized were there because of an illness or a condition that began directly or indirectly with a broken heart.

            Many were repeatedly wounded for want of being loved or for being abused in the name of love. They simply could not take it anymore. Looking at their faces I saw despair, helplessness, loneliness in a deep, deep sadness. Their large open eyes revealed their confusion, they were disoriented, tired, no signs of the joy of being alive. While they looked at me, their stares penetrated through me.

            “Why?" their eyes asked

            "Why am I here?"

            "How did this happen?"

            "Why am I like this?"

            "Help me!"

            Many were hurt and confused, their poor bodies responding to their heart’s pain and bewilderment with biological dysfunction. Normal healthy tensions between body and soul were no longer a reality.      

            Many had naively walked into traps, into veritable snake pits. Once snared, there was no way out except through the pains of heartbreak and illness. These poor souls were only those who required hospitalization.

            What about others who were not hospitalized?

            What about those souls who resigned themselves to their lot in life, living as prisoners in a one-way relationship?

            How many broken hearts have simply accepted their fate and move around day after day like zombies?

            How many broken hearts have in anger resorted to crime?

            How many broken hearts have been placed in mental institutions because they could not cope with the pains of heartbreak?

            What about those souls, who have simply run away? What about hearts who could no longer face the same hell day after day after day?

            What about those hearts who took pills, alcohol and drugs to numb the pains caused by a love gone sour?

            And what about those souls who saw their only escape was to take their own life, who saw suicide and death as a better option than living each day with the gnawing pains of a broken heart?

            Heartbroken souls, what to do?

            Seeing all this misery, many questions came to mind. These persons are God's children... they are Princes and Princesses in their Father's kingdom.

            “Why are they not using the gifts they received at baptism to protect themselves against these terrible onslaughts?”

            “Why do they repeatedly keep falling, enduring more pain and suffering?

            “Why are they not able to discern what is happening?”

            “They received great and wonderful treasures not only to survive but also to conquer. Why are they not taking advantage of these?” This is not what their heavenly Father wants.

            The inevitable question surfaced: I heard the angel tell me,

            “Raymond, you know better. You received this knowledge gratuitously. What are you going to do about it?”

            They are so many and I am but one person. What could I do? Yet to do nothing was out of the question. This simply did not make sense. Life is wonderful and precious. It must be lived to the full. I did not know what to do; nevertheless my reply was, "Yes." A miracle was needed, but how do miracles happen? This was no dream, it all happened while I was visiting the various wards in the hospital.

            The miracle part one, roll up your sleeves.[2]

            Even if I could not save them all, I would try to save as many as I could. I was not going to repeat what the apostles said to our dear Lord at the miracle of the loaves. You will recall, large crowds had left their towns and went on foot to see Jesus. He had pity on them and came ashore to heal the sick and:

            “When evening came, the disciples went to him and said,       'This is a lonely place, and the time has slipped by; so send the people away, and they can go to the villages to buy themselves some food'.

            The disciples were asking our dear Lord to send the crowds away so that they could see to their own needs. Shrugging their shoulders, they said there was nothing they could do.

            But, Jesus replied:

            “There is no need for them to go: give them something to eat yourselves.”

            If ever there was a statement on what our terms of reference are in this life, this was  it:

            "There is no need for them to go: give them something to eat yourselves."

            There is no need for persons to suffer injustice in this world. Deal with it yourself. There is no need for persons to be hungry in this world. Deal with it yourself. There is no need for persons to be ignorant in this world. Deal with it yourself; YOU are God’s Child. Christ the Son of God, Christ the Creator, Christ your King is with you. You are made in his image. Do it yourself [3] child of God that you are.

            Do you not understand? You are God's child!

            But they (the apostles) answered, 'All we have with us is five loaves and two fish.'

            “Bring them here to me.” he said.

            He gave orders that the people were to sit on the grass; then he took the five loaves and the two fish, raised his eyes to heaven and said the blessing. And breaking the loaves he handed them to his disciples who gave them to the crowds. They all ate as much as they wanted, and they collected the scraps remaining, twelve baskets full. Those who ate numbered about five thousand men to say nothing of women and children.[4]

            I rejoice in this event. Our dear Lord showed me (through his apostles) what I would have done, had I been in their shoes, those wonderful, human, fragile, transparent apostles who played our roles on that stage 2,000 years ago.

            The miracle part two, with Jesus, do it.

            Because of this gospel message, that was exactly what I did. I took my five loaves and two fish, (my meager little experiences). I blessed these with and like Jesus did, then I set out to feed the hungry. As in the gospel passage many ate to their fill.

            To do this, I prepared a series of retreats titled “Marriage in the Kingdom” and advertised it in a national Catholic newspaper. Immediately, I received an invitation to give the retreat (a five evening series) in a nearby parish named, “The Immaculate Conception.” I was overjoyed. Our dear Mother Mary has always been present in my life in a very special way. My heart saw this as a sign of her approval. Later, it was more advertising and more invitations.

            Over the years, giving the retreats was very consoling and very gratifying. Many wonderful things happened. Like the experience the apostles had, no matter how much I gave, there was always more to give, and there was always a lot more left over than when I began. I could not believe it! After eleven years of presentations (usually at Lent and Advent) it now seemed the right time to make a great feast with all the leftovers, i.e., to have the series available in book form. This must be done if these experiences are to be shared with still more broken hearts. The book, Marriage in the Kingdom was published, and since 1997 has been read by 1,500 - 2000 persons a month on the Internet.[5]

            With Jesus, make things happen!

            Dearest Friend, there are three kinds of persons in this world:

            Those who make things happen,

            Those who watch things happen, and

            Those who say, “What happened?”

            This precious gift of life is given to you gratuitously, to make glorious things happen. Your life must be lived. God has placed beautiful persons and awesome wonders in your path. Do not waste time simply watching things happen. You must not wake up years from now, only to realize that these unique opportunities have evaporated into thin air and are gone forever. You are here, now. At this very moment God wills your presence, and because of this, now is your time to live as his Child. But to grow and blossom, you must know who you are, what is yours and what is expected from you. You must know what treasures you have received to help you do the things that only you can do.

            All this happened because God loves YOU. He gives us more than what we need to do minister to Him and care for his creation. Then, like the mustard seed, in, with and through Jesus, He will entrust you more and more with his affairs.

            When the angel showed me these poor souls, I did not respond with all kinds of excuses why I could not do anything. Like the apostles, I did not say,

            "Let them look after themselves."

            "This is not my problem."

            "I have no time for this."[6]

            Like Jesus, I took what I had, gave thanks, blessed it and set out to feed many. God blessed the effort a thousand fold. Blessed be his holy Name forever and ever. Amen.

            A vision of the Church for a bishop.

            For many years I was a private consultant, assisting municipalities in various parts of Ontario to get their operations in order. Usually at the end of the day, I would walk the streets, both for exercise and to see what is happening in the community I was working in. On this particular occasion, about ten minutes into my walk, I had an interior vision and was prompted to go to a certain bishop who resided there, and tell him what I saw. Though this happening was completely unexpected and only lasted a moment, (barely one step in my walk) I had no doubt the invitation was in order and felt very peaceful in knowing what I was to do.

            I proceeded immediately to the bishop's residence and knocked on the door. (This was really God knocking on his door.) He answered. I explained why I was there. He invited me in. After the usual courtesies, I told him what was asked of me.

            I asked him to picture a very large field. The crop had been harvested and the field was now covered with stubble. The field was being plowed (with the old type of plough the kind pulled by horses) but there were no horses pulling this plough. I also asked him to visualize some very massive boulders here and there in the field. There were also clusters of trees, straight and tall, located on large islands of grass here and there throughout the field. Their majestic boughs giving the only shade to be had from the very hot midday sun.

            The large field represents the Church, I said.

            The plough plowing the large field symbolizes Vatican II and the plough itself is moving under the power of the Holy Spirit. Notice that all that is left on the large field is stubble. Now the plough is turning the soil to nourish the earth (Church), which will now produce a new harvest. Nothing is lost, everything is used.

            The few very massive boulders in the field are large obstructions in the way of the plough and represent obstacles in the way of the Church and Vatican II. They have been there for a very long time, but because the field is so large, they do not pose any threat to the size of the crop that will eventually be harvested. The Holy Spirit (Vatican II) simply goes around them.

            The very tall trees with their majestic shade-giving boughs clustered here and there throughout the field symbolize the treasures and traditions of the church.[7] These will stay in the field. The plough (Vatican II) simply furrows around their extended, welcoming and refreshing grass enclosures.

            I had delivered his message. The bishop thanked me, we chatted and I left.

            This was a time where the Holy Spirit asked for my help. I did not cut short his request. I waited until I was sure he told me everything he wanted me to share with the bishop. I do not know why I was to share this vision with this bishop, suffice to say that is what God wanted. How blessed we are to be able to minister with Him. I went with Him on this one all the way. May I always be disposed with a happy heart to run these errands for Him. You and your spouse will often be called upon to speak the Spirit's prophetic voice.

            This experience was no dream. I happened on the sidewalk and continued until I left the bishop’s residence.

            Incident Basilica of the Annunciation.

            One year, Florence and I decided that we would visit Israel. We made arrangements with a travel agent, and before we knew it, we were unpacking our bags at our hotel (Moriah) in Jerusalem.

            One site that I particularly wanted to visit, was the Basilica of the Annunciation in Nazareth. I had read that the ground level contained what was claimed to be the restored home of the Holy Family. I always had a particular affection for our blessed Mother.

            The big day finally arrived. It was perfect. Powder blue skies and a golden sun warming everything in this historic country.

            We were given a tour of the basilica by our guide, after which we were left to visit the lower level on our own.

            Once in the lower level, we immediately saw this little stone house, enclosed with a protective fence. It was located in the middle of the lower level.

            We began our approach to it, when a young member of the Order of St. Francis said to me,

            “You cannot come in here. You are not a pilgrim, you are just a tourist.”

            I stopped dead in my tracks.

            “Who was this little (blank)?”

            “Where does he get off telling me I am a tourist and not a pilgrim?”

            “How dare he make such judgments?”

            Dear Reader you should know that I was a City Administrator, with a fair amount of power and responsibility. Instinctively I turned to him, I was going to cut him down to size and put him in his place. I was furious. Then a second thought crossed my mind.

            “No!”

            “This is a Holy Site, I must not desecrate it with a distasteful argument. This is Mother Mary’s home, I will not let anything soil this site.”

            Then, I turned from the Franciscan and began to walk away, never again to look, and see this link with my spiritual ancestry. I had no sooner turned away from him to leave, when I heard these words spoken to me in my heart. It was Mother Mary. I knew it was She. She said:

            “I make Thee a gift of this first sorrow.”[8]

            My heart was now overflowing with contentment.

            I was not able to visit her home, but She spoke to me and made me a gift.[9] We were more present together than we would ever have been had I simply visited the ruins.

            In this situation, I listened to the prompt not to desecrate. I did not shove it off as some trick of my mind or imagination. Because of my love for Mother Mary, I obeyed it. I then received her gift.

            “Father, blessed be Thy Holy name, for you have crowned the splendor of your creation, with the beauty of our Mother Mary.”

            Again this experience was no dream, for it was when I decided not to bring any negativity into this holy place, that Her message was given to me on the spot.

            A healing in the kitchen.

            One day, I was working with a municipal clerk-treasurer at his home in the country. He owned a small farm that was very close to his heart. If ever there was a person who was a born farmer, he was it.

            Unfortunately, his wife saw farm life as a bit degrading and wanted him to be successful as a municipal clerk-treasurer.

            Because of this, he was very unhappy and often angry with her, seeing her as an obstacle to his happiness. He had to work very hard to be a municipal official while farm life was second nature to him.

            The three of us were together in the living room discussing municipal problems. All through the discussions, he kept shouting at his wife. He was trying to show me through his statements to her that she was the cause of their unhappiness. The situation was rapidly getting out of control, he getting angrier and angrier and she becoming more and more embarrassed at what was taking place.

            I received a prompt to pray over them. Though we were in the midst of discussing municipal business, I brought the exchange to a halt and invited them both into the kitchen. Then I asked them to kneel on the linoleum floor while I prayed over them. It was a typical farmhouse kitchen, lots of room, lots of rocking chairs, wood stove, painted wooden slat cupboards, a narrow varnished stairway leading upstairs... all very flavorful.

            I prayed over them, laying my hands on their heads, asking our dear Lord to bring his peace into their hearts and to resurrect in each of them the gifts of their sacrament of marriage, that with his grace they may be each other’s strength and happiness.

            Before giving them the blessing, I opened my eyes for a moment. A light white mist (table high) was gently swirling over the entire kitchen floor. Then, in an instant, it completely disappeared. At first I thought smoke had somehow come from the fireplace in the living room into the kitchen. However, I saw there was no fire in the fireplace and no smell of smoke. All of this happened in the space of a few seconds. I completed my prayer and blessing, after which they opened their eyes, embraced each other, and rose from their knees. Peace reigned in that home once more.

            “I have dispelled your faults like a cloud, your sins like a mist. Come back to me, for I have redeemed you.”[10]

            Our dear Lord tells, us,

            “And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age." [11]

            Again, this was no dream, it happened as I stood before these two souls in their kitchen.

            An interior prompt that saved Dad a lot of grief.

            The last year my blessed Father was on this earth, he was ill with prostate cancer. Wanting to live life to the fullest, he attended as many events as possible.

            That particular fall, he invited Florence and me to attend a parish supper with him at St. Mary’s parish, Wilno Ontario Canada, near Barry’s Bay, a polish community. St. Mary’s have the best parish suppers.

            When the time came for dessert, Dad had to leave for the washroom. Upon his return, we had our dessert and coffee together.

            Time came to leave when I felt an interior prompt to go to the bathroom. I did not “have to go” so I discounted the prompt.

            Once outside the Church basement, as we were leaving for the car, again my attention was turned to going to the bathroom. This time I went. I returned to the Church basement entrance, walked the long hall area, and finally reached the bathroom. I entered the enclosed toilet area, when lo and behold there was Dad’s wallet on the hot water radiator. Of course it had his drivers license, his health card, his bankcard and credit cards and so on, as well as a number of twenty-dollar bills.

            I suspect the wallet fell out of Dads back pocket, and that he picked it up and placed it on the radiator until he was ready to leave. After, he simply forgot it was there. Perhaps he turned his head away from the radiator as he left the enclosure. When I finally caught up with Dad, I showed him his wallet. He simply shook his head. He was clearly disappointed with himself.

            Had we left the grounds without Dad’s wallet, this would have caused him a lot of grief and problems. It might have taken months to resolve all the issues.

            Had this angel not spoken to me, to my spirit, and had I not listened, or simply discounted the thought as so much “nonsense,” and not acted, Dad would have suffered a great deal of grief.

            We must never be indifferent to an interior prompt. We must never walk alone when we have so many angels to help us. No one from Heaven will ever force you to do something; your free will is too great a gift from God to do that. On the other hand, we are far from being a “know-it-all.” We should welcome and rejoice at every opportunity Heaven gives us to do all things for God's greater glory.

            And once again this was no dream, for I returned my father’s wallet to him, he, having forgot it in the bathroom in the Church basement.

            Discerning at 110 kilometers an hour.

            One spring I gave a retreat in a parish in Metropolitan Toronto East. The series began Monday evening and ended Friday evening. When Saturday came ‘round, very tired and quite drained, I loaded all my equipment and teaching aids into the car and began my return journey home. I was away for seven days and was anxious to return to familiar surroundings. I was driving west on Highway 401 (a multilane expressway north of Toronto) heading for the Barrie exit when it happened.

            Suddenly, a voice from within, an inner prompt, directed my mind to my sick aunt. She lived in an apartment at the very southern boundary of the city, near Lakeshore. She was a widow and ill with cancer. The inner message was that I should go to her. If I was going to visit her, the best way to get there was to take the Don Valley Parkway, whose exit lane from 401 was fast approaching. I was driving at 110 kilometers an hour on a highway made up of half a dozen or so lanes (one way). There were cars, trucks, and buses speeding by on both sides. There were only a few minutes to decide what to do; otherwise, I would miss the lane changes I needed to reach the exit lane. If that happened, going to visit her was out of the question. And so the debate within began.

            On the one hand, there was a peaceful inner prompt inviting me to go to my aunt, a prompt that was clearly heard deep within me. On the other hand, I was also hearing another, very persistent inner voice, screaming at me,

            “You have been away from home long enough; you have the right to keep going. You visited her two months ago. There is no need to go back. Why face all that traffic again?”

            “Head for home and give yourself a break, you deserve it.”

            “You have not been with Florence for a week.”

            “You did enough for God this week.”

            On and on it went, with insistence and such other logical arguments.

            Still traveling at high speed, with traffic slipping by on both sides and the off ramp fast approaching, I had to make a decision soon. The opposing cerebral arguments were so intense and so determined, that I was getting more and more confused. Was the first prompt simply a feeling of guilt in being so close to her and not visiting her? Was it a legitimate counsel from the Holy Spirit? Was I simply experiencing a nice thought, one that I could postpone to another time? What about the counter arguments? Were they right? I had to decide quickly; otherwise, I would miss the exit lane and the off ramp.

            I decided that the prompt to go to see my aunt was legitimate and from the Holy Spirit. Very clearly heard, it was quiet and authoritative but not forceful. It was focused on concern for the Other and not on Self. It was a peaceful invitation, one that respected my dignity, and for these reasons, the Holy Spirit was identified as the Prompter.

            The counter arguments, on the other hand, were very forceful, focusing on my legitimate rights to do what I wanted. The cerebral opposition did not bring any Peace to me as did the prompts from my Heart. This was not the voice of a friend, for a friend does not confuse another.

            When I realized that it was my heart versus so-called logic, that was it. Logic has no authority to oppose the heart, only to serve it. My cerebral advisors were clearly in violent opposition to my Heart, to the Royal Confidante, to the Other. Clearly, this was the Serpent counseling me. In such circumstances, I have to choose the prompt from the Heart because it is the Truth, the Holy Spirit. Logic does not know what Truth is or even what it means.

            I began changing lanes and arrived at the exit ramp just in time to take the Don Valley Parkway to Lakeshore Boulevard. I left the northern limits of the city to head for the shores of Lake Ontario. A short while later, I arrived at my Aunt's apartment building. After searching for some considerable time for a place to park, I finally reached the apartment and rang the doorbell, and rang, and rang and rang.

            No answer. I could not believe it. She was not there! How could I have been so wrong in making this discernment? It was Saturday morning. Maybe she was shopping or something. I waited a bit longer. Did I make a mistake in discerning? Now I would have to head back for the Parkway, cross the entire city and head north to Highway 401 again. Since I was going to be very late getting home, I decided to telephone Florence and tell her what happened. Seeing a telephone booth at a nearby service station, I stopped and made the call.

            “Where are you?” Florence asked.

            I explained what happened.

            “Your mother is desperately trying to reach you.” she said.

            “She telephoned the rectory (the parish where I gave the retreat) but you had just left.” she continued.

            “Why? What does she want?” I asked.

            “Your Aunt is dying. Since you're the only one in the family who is nearby, you should get to her quickly.”

            “Where is she?” I asked.

            “At the Princess Margaret.” she replied. (The Princess Margaret is a hospital in Toronto that treats and cares for cancer patients.)

            I told Florence that I would head there straightaway and would be in touch with her later during the day.

            So... the prompt was from the Holy Spirit. I had indeed properly discerned. This really was a Kingdom event. I marvel constantly on how simple it is for God to do things. I felt strengthened in my discernment skills and in my union with the Holy Spirit.

            Now, how do I get to the Princess Margaret? Driving in a big city terrifies me. I went inside the service station and asked the owner for directions.

            “No problem.” he said.

            “Go down this street, until you come to such and such a street (about 3-4 miles) then turn right. Drive a few blocks north. You can't miss it.”

            “Well, that's simple enough.” I sighed.

            “In the car,” I replied, I have a lot of expensive sound equipment and teaching aids that I didn't bother to pack properly. I would not want anything stolen. Do you know where I could park once I get there?”

            “No problem.” he said.

            “I used to own the service station across from the Princess Margaret. Just speak to so and so and tell him I sent you. He will let you park the car next to the office. It has a large plate glass window. He will keep an eye on your things for you.”

            All praise and glory and love and benediction to our dear Lord, who guides his children in his holy, loving service, who watches over them and does not abandon them.

            I arrived at the service station and things worked out just fine. It was not long before I was at the nursing station and speaking to the nurses who were caring for my aunt. I informed them that I was her nephew, that I had some experience in pastoral care and asked them what her condition was like. They confirmed that she was dying.

            For the next little while I was with her at her bedside, talking with her, combing her hair, praying with her, holding her hand and just being with her. She suspected she was dying but was not sure. When she asked, I told her that her condition was very serious. She understood. After awhile, she agreed that I could ask for a priest to give her the sacrament for the sick.

            He came and, together, the three of us shared this very special presence of our dear Lord. Through his minister, our King consoled her and comforted her with his forgiving and understanding heart. In these her final hours, he gave Himself to her one last time, in his Holy Eucharist.

            Together, we prayed to our dear Mother Mary. I asked her to ensure that her special angels watch over my aunt until she arrives into her arms. I left my rosary on the bedpost, as a sign of Mary's presence with her. That evening the first of her children arrived. By now, she was at peace with God and in Mary's hands. It was time for me to go. The time she had left belonged to her and her children. The better part of the day had gone by. I telephoned Florence, told her what happened and that I would be home on Sunday. Everything was peaceful in the Kingdom of God.

            How different this scene would have unfolded, had I simply discounted the prompt and taken the off ramp for home. Although I did not know it at the time, the prompt made me an instrument for God's Love. He called on me to help bring my aunt to the end of her life on earth. With all the love, peace and serenity God could give her, he prepared her for her return home.

            In my early years, I attended school in Toronto, which was far away from my home in Northern Ontario. My aunt often visited me at the college. She was responsible for making many a lonely day a little easier to handle. Thank you Father, for allowing me to return this love to her through your loving intercession.

            These few examples I shared with you, beg the question: "Can we live in time, yet experience eternity where time does not exist?"

            “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

            This happens every time we come face to face with undeniable Truth, Truth revealed in so many events in our lives. For example, when a loved one dies, his or her death becomes (for the survivor) a new awakening to the ultimate Truth. Other examples are, marriage, our first-born, our child's first day of school, a final graduation, and a terminal illness; the beauty of creation, of a loved one’s eyes, of a baby’s smile. It is during such moments when we truly see the Truth, what life means, what death means. These are moments when we see Truth with all of its omnipotence. These events are glimpses into eternity; a moment with God for God alone is Truth. Only Truth is eternal. At such moments, time and space curtsy to eternity.

            You and I are Spirits created in the image and likeness of God. We are his children. How in the world do we expect to live in Truth if we do not live who we are, children of Truth? "Ask and you will receive, and so your joy will be complete.”[12]

            Once more, this was no dream, it all happened while I was driving my car on a busy six-lane highway, and while I was finding my way to her bedside.

            Finding a grave.

            Once Florence and I wanted to know where a very dear friend Msgr Wilfrid Bray (my first mentor) was buried. This particular cemetery is 33 acres in size. We did not have a clue as to where Father Bray was buried.

            I, with my brain and logic, started at the first row and was going to read every tombstone, one after the other.

            Florence simply asked our dear Lord for guidance, and she proceeded directly (I mean directly) to Father Bray’s grave. Once there she gave me a shout. Hardly believing my ears, I ran to her and she was indeed at Father Bray’s grave.

            We prayed for the repose of his soul and thanked God for having “brought us together.”

            “Father Bray we love you, and we thank God for having known you in this world. You have surely been Christ’s faithful Servant.”

            Once more this was no dream. In this instance it was Florence who was directed to the grave.

            When the bells spoke.

            At one time in my life, I applied to Bishop Louis Lévesque, (Diocese of Hearst) to be a priest. I was living in Smooth Rock Falls then, about 100 miles from Hearst. It was my intention to go to Montreal and study there as a belated vocation. First though, I thought I should visit our bishop and let him know what my intentions were.

            When I arrived at the Bishop’s office, an ambulance was parked at his front door. The procurator for the diocese, Father Ulric Ouellette had suffered a heart attack, and had to be transported to hospital. The bishop was going to the hospital and asked me to await his return.

            An hour or so later he returned, we met and talked. I explained my dream to become a priest. He  inquired about my background. I was assistant bursar for a reformatory, working in the bursar’s office, doing accounting and management.

            When he heard this,  he quickly made a proposition to me.

            “Would I be willing to look after the books for the seminary and the diocese, and the diocese in return would lodge and feed me, teach me French and Latin and pay me $50.00 a month? I had to have French and Latin if I was to be a priest in his diocese, he explained. Further, since I would be living in the bishop’s residence I would only be 100 miles from home.”

            I agreed.

            Two years later, there was an ordination at the cathedral. This was across the street from the bishop’s residence. I was working at in the office. When the cathedral bells rang, I could hear them telling me, “We will not ring for you.” Far from being upset and confused, I received the message with peace and serenity. Later I told the bishop what happened. After a little discussion, he suggested that we postpone the process for a while.

            At this time, Father Ouellette had completely recovered. The office was reorganized and I was ready to continue with my life.

            Once again no dream. I heard the message, clear and authoritative, enveloped in peace while I was working.

            In that same community, I met and married one of the most beautiful hearts on this planet. We had six children, three boys, and three girls. I became a city administrator, then as private consultant for municipalities in Ontario. In 1975 I was ordained as the first permanent deacon for the Archdiocese of Ottawa Ontario Canada. I preached many retreats on marriage, and wrote “Marriage in the Kingdom,”[13] and now this book. All this took place, because of what the bells told me.

            These are but a few examples of events in my life, wherein the Holy Spirit invited me as God’s Child to help realize God’s will in my life and in the lives of others.