“Alright.” I sit silently and wait for my next instruction to come to me. I must be careful to follow my guide carefully. We know this man is a jumper. Before Amber took him with her to the other side, he would jump to new people after driving his most recent host to death. Like many attachments, he has done this for centuries, and I must rely on my Guides to avoid the potentiality of taking him on myself or allowing him to go free, where he might find another victim.
Listening carefully, I hear what I am to do, and I ask, “Now?”
I pick up the rods, and I hold them in position. “You, who are at the window, would you like to come into this house?”
“Follow the porch to the steps.”
‘Yes.’ He does as I ask. He does not know who I am and does not expect me to have any idea of the threat he poses. His arrogance and overblown assumption of mine are what I must count on the most.
“See the small window, with all the light. You may enter there.”
I can see him travel across the porch. He moves carefully, not concerned for a trap but hesitant over it being this easy.
I feel Amber panic next to me, followed by IEO going to calm her. She is terrified about having brought this man here, sure all of her efforts have been in vain. She fears she has now put my family at risk, and IEO must hold her to keep her from yelling out. She wants to bring him back to her, away from me. She does not understand he will not get anywhere close to either of us.
Days before this communication, I entered the coal room myself. Guided by Two-Feathers, I placed seven stones in the seven directions and a protective barrier along the doorway. We laid this trap carefully and thoroughly with a plan to bring Amber’s pursuer here.
After examining the coal room through the window, the man slowly enters and is immediately surrounded by blue-white light. It engulfs him, coming from all seven directions until he is consumed by it. Then, the light begins to turn until it becomes a vortex. Blue and white swirl as it spins, and I softly speak the words overwhelming my mind, “Flush it.”
I pray as the vortex consumes itself and the man. I pray a Native American song I have never known. I pray until the seventh stone, an amethyst crystal placed at the center of the space, draws him into a final pinpoint of light that falls as a diamond to the floor.
Just as I look upon the diamond, wondering what will become of it, Two-Feathers walks to the room and picks up the stone. He does not turn and look at us or say any parting words. He simply collects the gem, and he walks away.
As I see him leave, I speak to my guides, “Is it time?”
There is no answer.
After several more minutes pass, I ask, “Is it done?”
I ask a few more questions of my Guide, using my body signal for confirmation. I confirm the house being clear and the space being safe. Then, I ask if any further action is required from me before we continue. There is not.
“Amber. Please, cross the rods.”
The rods cross again, and I know that she is thanking me.
“You’re welcome.” I smile, feeling the tentative relief in her heart. It is hard for her to believe it was this easy. “Honey, do you feel that he is gone?”
“Is there anything you would like me to tell your family?”
She does not answer. I can feel the sadness crash down upon her. I know she felt she had no opportunity ever to be free from this man. Now, she realizes there was a way out and must face the loss of her life. I know when she crosses to the other side, she will find a way to reconcile this within herself, and she will feel peace. She will never understand it here in this world. She must move into the truth and surrender to a complete understanding before this can happen. Here, she will only face the loss again and again and again. This would be her Hell, and I will not rest until I know she has found her way to freedom and live her eternity in Heaven.
“Are you ready to pass, sweetheart?”
“Would it be o.k., after you pass, if we call your family to a table? If they want to attend, they can have the opportunity to say ‘Goodbye?’”
“Do you understand that when you come back, you can help them as a Spirit Guide? I think you would like that. I think in a sense you already were.”
“It is hard to be of Spirit and walk in the shoes of a mortal.”
She points again toward the living room. I look to where she is pointing and say, “O.K. Straighten the rods.”
“Is there somebody at the window?”
‘No.’ She points to the corner now.
“Are you pointing to something?”
She points again.
“Is it on the table?”
“Is it in the basket? Is it something you want me to give to Monica?” I cannot understand what she wants from me, and I think she senses this, but she continues to point.
“Is it the picture of my daughter?”
“The feathers, the smudge, does it have something to do with the angel?”
“Is that angel connected to you? Are you trying to connect with me?”
“Is it because there is something I could have done?”
“Is it to protect Monica?”
“Is it to get rid of…uh…think.” This is so frustrating. I hate guessing. Anxious to move forward, I let go of this train of thought. “Is there anything more I can do for you, Amber?”
There is a long pause after this question, and the rods do not move. They still point to where I keep all of my feathers and stones and sage and…
”Oh..wait. Would you like me to smudge you?”
“O.K. I’m putting down the rods.”
I release the rods, and I smudge Amber with sweetgrass. The aroma fills the room and instantly brings peace to my heart. I feel this may be the last gift we share, and I take my time to do it well. As I finish, I pick up the rods and continue with our conversation.
As soon as the rods are in position, they cross.
Feeling the sudden silence of the room, I wonder if she regrets her decision if she thinks maybe this could have gone another way. These thoughts cross my mind for the briefest moment, and I decide I will not ask about them because they do not offer any kind of a solution. They end in regret. As I begin to adjust my mind to moving forward, the rods cross. She has heard the thoughts in my mind and responded to them.
“Did you hear my question?”
I hear her words in my mind, “I am at peace.”
I respond, “Because you feel satisfied with your choice, it doesn’t matter, does it. Because it’s what you believe that makes you feel good. Yeah.” I get what she’s saying.
Coming from a threatening and punishing childhood, I understand the concept behind her words. Sometimes life forces you to make tough decisions, and as much as I wish I could have helped her before her passing, I understand what ‘imminent threat’ means. I get it.
There was no time. He was bearing down upon someone in her life, and she had to make a difficult decision. She didn’t have time to find someone like me to intervene. She had to act at the moment to protect her family. She did what any one of us would do when something threatens a loved one. She protected them in the only way she knew how, and she succeeded. She stepped in front of the bullet, and she saved their lives.
I feel soothed knowing she’s proud of who she is and what she was able to do. I’m glad to know she’ll cross in peace. I feel her time coming, so I ask her, “Are you ready?”
Pausing, I have so much I want to say to her. I must try to find a way to express it. I want her to know. I’m proud too. Stammering, I try to say it anyway, “I almost don’t want to…uh, I don’t usually get to help the right people. You are a wonder. Thank you. Thank you for allowing me to know you a little. Thank you.” I can’t find the words, but I can tell she understands. I can feel it.