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My Journey Part 1

Ouija Board, Psychics, John of God

I was raised in the Christian tradition and had a very early acceptance that there was a God and a place we go to after we die. I don’t recall ever challenging the rituals of the churches I went to. In fact, I enjoyed them. I would even go to an occasional Catholic Mass and feel in awe of the incense, and the richly embroidered vestments, and of course, the mysterious language! There was the Baptist ritual of immersion in water, where everyone was thrilled to have one more young convert to their belief. It was such fun. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of the Baptist church on 202nd St., Bayside, NY.

As I got older I began to wonder why God was angry all the time. Why did God kill all those Egyptians? Weren’t we all God’s children? Wow. That means if we don’t follow the rules we not only will spend FOREVER in hell, but if we make him angry he might kill us and send us there sooner. Whew. I already know I’m a bad person, for goodness sake, we’re told we’re born sinners. And we’re told that unless we accept Jesus as our Savior we’re doomed. So, hell is filled with babies and children, Jews, and Muslims. All those tribes in Africa or South America which have never heard the Good News, they must fill up hell, plus, what about all those souls from the past? Hell must be overflowing. Then, of course, which rules? Whose rules? Baptist rules? Mormon rules? R. Catholic rules?


I don’t remember any specific time when I didn’t care anymore. I just stopped listening. Nothing made sense. There seemed to be such order to the universe, yet such chaos among the religious.

How can a God be a loving God and be so hateful at the same time?

My first memory of talking about spirits was shortly after my dear Grandy died. I was twelve years old. My family was in a restaurant and I knew I saw him and I couldn’t imagine why he wasn’t with us. Did I see him? Probably not, someone who reminded me of him – most likely, but, when I told my mother that I thought I saw Grandy she didn’t tell me I was ridiculous, or it was my imagination. She simply said “Maybe it was.”

When I was around thirty years old I was living in Tijeras, New Mexico and hanging out with my best friend, Gloria, who was twenty years old than me. We decided to play around with her old Ouija board. We began to get messages that were general; ones I don’t even remember until – we decided that I would ask a question that Gloria wouldn’t know the answer to, to make sure she wasn’t controlling the planchette. I remembered that my Grandy liked to go to the races, but that Nana only let him go once a year. So, I asked the board “what was my grandfather’s favorite past time?” As we concentrated on the Ouija board I repeated in my head “go to the races; go to the races.” The board responded with “to bet.” We asked if there was any other message and the board wrote “Keep the faith.” We called my parents to tell them what had happened. They laughed and said “Yes, Grandy liked to go to the races, but every day on his way to work he would stop in at his bookie and bet.” I didn’t know that. The fact your grandfather, a member of the local Baptist church, had a bookie was not something that was talked about with children.

I was too immature to handle this and it freaked me out. My friend went on to automatic writing while I moved to Oklahoma.

Spirit doesn’t leave you alone when there is something you’re supposed to be doing, and learning about the spirit world was something I, apparently, was supposed to be doing.

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