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Real Children: Kate, David, Faith

It is definitely not easy to be on the cutting edge of a new consciousness. Anyone who has helped bring in societal changes of any kind can tell you that. So it has been for any number of very real children whose gifts are phenomenal, yet whose personal lives have been full of difficulties and challenges.

The children whose stories are told here are real. They have persevered, sometimes against great odds, to be who they were meant to be and to use their gifts for the uplift of human awareness.

Kate (in her own words)

Winding deer trails of twisted tree roots, covered in uncurling ferns and velveteen moss, are my paths of discovery. Hidden creeks of cool water flowing over rounded stones are my refreshment. Towering pines of strength, through which shafts of soft sunlight slant onto the musky earth, are my sanctuary. Frost glittering like Magick beneath frozen moonlight in the midnight heart of the forest is my secret.

Aside from a childhood spent immersing myself in the forest and swamps found in our wooded suburban neighborhood, my first real step into the nature kingdom came when I was twelve years old. My mother told me of an exercise she had done at a spiritual workshop on Native Americans she had gone to the day before. In the meditation exercise you would meet your power or totem animal.

Needless to say, I was quite excited, for I was positive mine was that of a red fox—an animal I’d been drawn to all my life. I was sure that had to be it. I did the exercise and I waited—waited for something, anything, to appear, but nothing happened. Not a glimpse or glimmer of anything. Frustrated and utterly disappointed, I denounced the exercise as stupid and bitterly stormed off elsewhere for the rest of the day.

The next morning I’d completely forgotten about the incident as I waited at the bus stop. Then to my absolute disbelief, a red fox came waltzing up the street. I had never before seen one in person nor had any knowledge of them living near me. The fox came within ten feet of me, paused, then turned and trotted off over a lawn and into the tree line. Amazed, I slowly sank down on one knee to get a better look. I had made up my mind to chase after it when suddenly the bus pulled up, filled with oblivious classmates, the door opening for me. After a hesitation I finally boarded the bus and took a seat.

About a year later I had another encounter with this animal companion, only in a different way that would truly unlock the door to the spiritual aspect of the nature kingdom and begin to push it open. At that time, to my horror, the man who owned the forest at the end of our road began to develop part of it. The trees I had always played among were cut down, roots ripped from the soil, trunks and branches shredded into chips. Machines were brought in to dig into the earth, blasting equipment to destroy the rocks that stood in the way of progress. The forest cried out in pain, the animals began to flee, and I went up into the woods and wept at the devastation.

I went into the forest one afternoon, walking over the shredded tree trunks and shattered rock. Sick at heart, I dug my hands into the soft earth and cried on the cliff side, begging God, in between sobs, to please protect my forest, my living sanctuary. I pleaded, promised, and bargained, willing to do anything to keep it safe. I stayed until night began to fall, curled up beneath a tree, until I realized it was time to go home and that I could do no more.

As I walked back, I caught a glimpse of something surprising out of the corner of my eye—a flash of a lower part of a fox. Black-socked feet, following in step very closely off to my right side. This wasn’t a physical fox but a spirit one. Walking beside me, comforting me, letting me know that yes, someone was listening. I could feel my sorrow lighten considerably.

Within a month it would appear again. I was standing on a bulldozed pile of dirt, swearing bitterly against the man who was destroying the forest. One of my best friends was with me, and she and I had just finished spelling out “Love Earth” in acorns across the hood of the bulldozer. At a particularly heightened moment of outrage, I saw a fox sitting on the very top of the dirt pile between my friend and me. Clear as a photograph, grinning gently this time, its eyes fierce with understanding. So vivid that I suddenly stopped talking and blinked hard. It was gone. I asked my friend if she’d seen an animal of some sort near us, and she said she hadn’t.

His name was Swift—or that was what I called my fox guide. Whenever I needed advice, especially related to nature, I’d focus, picturing myself sitting beside a stream, and wait for Swift to come and give me advice, which he did. Very wise advice—oftentimes things I hadn’t thought of, even things I didn’t want to hear but knew were in fact right. I met other animal spirit guides over time, though none were as close to me as Swift. I began seeing animal spirits around our house and in other places. I never found them frightening, and they were always very peaceful, just going about their unseen business. They were often beloved pets that had recently passed away and were still hanging around their old haunts (no pun intended!).

A year or so later I began to talk with a spirit named Donald, who introduced himself as one of my spirit guides. There were others as well that I’d meet over time. Edward with his refreshing sense of humor. Stoic Easton, whom I often caught glimpses of in his black coat and his dark hair. The delightful silver-haired Novon, who often visited me in dreams—a close soul friend. I was the closest to Donald, a very caring and straightforward character, who offered me invaluable insight on situations and decisions in my life. He never gave me any incorrect information or suggestions—and he never, despite my various attempts, gave me a single answer on any school exam or quiz, at first to my casual annoyance but then to my understanding.

Still, I found solace in nature and the remaining part of the forest. It was my retreat, a world of wonder and peace.

If there was ever a turning point in my close relationship with the natural world, it would have to be about a year ago when I was sitting in my favorite hidden glade that had an oak tree in the middle. I was just relaxing, thinking to myself, when I heard a distinctive voice:

“Hello.”

It was not aloud, though as clear as if it had been—spoken into my mind. I greeted the “hello” back with one of my own, and discovered to my delight and amazement it had in fact come from the oak tree! We began to talk. I had so many questions about it, about the nature kingdom, all of which it patiently and caringly answered. I introduced myself as Kate, and it introduced itself as Elyssaye (ehl-eh-sayh).

It was the start of a fantastic friendship. Slowly I began to meet more inhabitants of the nature kingdom, everything from flickering faeries the size of a quarter to guardians of the wood three times my size. I would go into the woods every night and just talk and talk. I began writing in a journal to keep track of all the things I learned and the beings I met. I began bringing up stories I had loved as a child—fairy tales like The Fabulous Falcon Finister and books like The Hobbit.

By candle or by flashlight I would read them, and soon I was drawing an audience. My relationship grew, as did my understanding of their realm. Sometimes they would come to me in my house, in school, anywhere, to talk. I began introducing myself to the trees around my school; I’d hold daily chats with the potted plant in my algebra class since we were both quite bored. Every night I would go up into the woods, even when winter was at its worst.

Over time I befriended an elf named Chalei. When I first caught a glimpse of him, he was standing at the top of the glade, glaring at me. I gave a cheerful “hello” and got silence in response. Troubled by this, I talked to one of the guardians who was there at the moment, a wise one, whom I called Q for short since its name was very long and very beautiful but quite hard for me to remember and pronounce correctly.

It told me that the elf, Chalei, was less than fond of me since I was a human and humans had done such horrible things to the nature kingdom that he couldn’t forgive them. He hated them for their destructive ways. That’s why he wouldn’t talk to me. I said that in fairness I didn’t blame him for not liking humans, though I resolved to make friends with him somehow.

It took a long time. He was as stubborn as I was, but slowly he realized that I was trying to protect the forest and that I loved it, just like he did. I would catch glimpses of him hiding behind a tree, listening to the story I was reading or watching me when I sat in the glade and talked. Finally he began talking to me as well, and the door was thrown fully open.

A best friend now, he was my guide to the nature kingdom who was always there when I needed help. He’d even caught me when I almost fell out of a tree once. I actually felt his hands close around my arm and pull me back up to safety. He would take my arm and help me balance across icy rocks or rushing streams. But most of all we talked and learned together. I would tell him about the human world, and he would tell me about the natural one.

We swore a pact together along with two other elves, one a healer and the other also a close friend, that we would do everything we could to raise awareness and help humankind and the nature kingdom to come to terms and help one another before it was too late. I would be their ambassador to humans to the best of my ability, and they would be there with me, helping me through it all. All my guides would help, from Swift to Donald. I was instructed to write a book, detailing my experiences and encounters. This has been my mission so far, and it has only just begun, to be taken a day at a time.

David

Susan lay in bed and felt a tiny electric flicker in her womb. It was palpable: Sparkle. Sparkle.

“Oh,” she breathed. “I’m pregnant.”

A year before, she had had a dream of the son she would have. There had also been strong clairaudient words indicating the same thing. Now she understood the events from several months previous.

Susan lived in the suburb of a large city and drove an ancient VW beetle with a bike rack on the back. Periodically she had to remove the rack in order to add oil to the car. On that particular day she had been having an especially hard time removing the rack so that she could lift the rear hood and locate the oil cap. She looked around to see if anyone from the apartment complex across the street could help. Two young men playing basketball on a nearby court caught her eye. Walking over to them, Susan asked for help.

One man stopped playing ball and walked back to the car with her. As he quickly removed the bike rack, Susan heard a strong inner voice say, “You are going to have his baby.”

That was how she knew.

Now she was ecstatic, although others did not share her joy. That was because she was unmarried and the baby’s father was showing no interest at all. It didn’t matter to her. She knew she was intended to have this child.

She prepared. She meditated. She practiced yoga. She made sure that she helped others with a glad heart and that she kept busy. She talked incessantly to the baby, telling him all about the world of nature into which he would come. She read voraciously on spiritual topics and spoke only of spiritual topics. She firmly believed the Edgar Cayce readings that stated that the activities of the parents during pregnancy would determine the kind of child they attracted.

She came to know the baby’s schedule—when he was active and when he rested. She tried to match her schedule to his, to be ready.

Once, when she was about six or seven months along, the baby asked if he could leave for a while. Susan agreed and later found out that the baby’s father had been in an accident at that time, hurting his hand. She knew then that there was indeed a bond between the two; however, that bond has not yet been realized in her son’s incarnate life.

David, born two weeks early, was very confused by the white walls of the hospital. He looked into his mother’s eyes and wanted to know where all those leaves and animals were that she had pictured for him. She laughed out loud and explained that the two of them had to stay in this place for a few days and then he could see everything. He trusted her.

While David was still very young, mother and son began communicating about the pictures they saw when asleep. David had terrible nightmares, leaving him so stiff with fright that his mother could hold his heels and head without his body bending. His first word was at six months: light. This word was followed soon by another: man. He was also terrified of fire and hot things. By the time he was a year old, David was talking about the man with a light coming after him while he was hiding. This went on until he was four years old.

One day when David was four, he sat next to his mother as they watched a Disney movie, Bedknobs and Broomsticks. At the end of it, Nazi soldiers landed on an island. Although no one in the story was hurt or even captured, Susan watched her son curl into a fetal position in his chair. She reached over to him and asked if these were the men in his dream.

“Yes,” said David.

Susan responded, “See, they’re not real. They’re just in a movie.”

David never had the dream again.

The two of them spent long periods watching butterflies drinking from flowers or birds eating the food bits that David and Susan had set out for them. David seemed to have a special way of communicating with all these small creatures.

Many years later, David told his mother that whenever he had been sick or hurt, he paid attention to what his body did to heal itself. Later, he would do the same when healing others.

Now employed in the emergency medical services field, David uses his gifts to make himself more aware of the conditions of his patients. At the scene of an accident, David first goes to the car to “sense” the seriousness of what has happened to the patient. From the residual energy in the vehicle, he can tell the degree of injury and determine what level of care the patient will require. Once with the patient, he checks the pulse to determine what the body is doing. While doing this, he actually sees the heart and how it beats. He sees the blood vessels as to whether they are relaxing or constricting. When he listens to people breathe, he can see how much of the lungs are opening up. The people who work with David have come to trust his “judgments.” David sees all this as being quite commonplace and does not understand why everyone cannot do it.

David continually explores furthering his gifts by trying to develop new ways to help. Currently he is trying to learn how to lessen pain for his patients as well as to facilitate their self-healing. Knowing what a particular drug would do for the body, he tries to give the body the same message himself to possibly prevent the need for the medication. He is not working on his other gifts at this time, except for his ability to find lost things, as this is a frequent problem for him!

Faith

Faith’s mother, Patricia, had prayed all her life that she be given a personal mission that would show her dear Lord how very deeply she loved Him. Once she dreamed that she stood holding a baby wrapped in a blanket. The top half of the blanket was pink; the other half was black, with stunningly brilliant stars shining on the black bottom part, as if in a night sky.

Throughout her life but especially after the breakup of her second marriage, Patricia found her faith sustained through daily contact with her Lord and also through the uplifting philosophies and messages of Edgar Cayce’s psychic readings. It was into this environment that her daughter, Faith, was born. Soon it became apparent that the baby had multiple disabilities—including hydrocephalus, developmental delays, impaired fine-motor coordination, and an inability to speak—along with constant crying and frequent vomiting. Patricia merely set an intention that her daughter was going to be well and vowed her dedication to help Faith be all that she could be.

When Faith was two years old, a neighbor warned Patricia that she had observed the child’s father on numerous occasions deliberately hurt the toddler whenever he was alone with her outdoors. Understanding the implications, Patricia realized that this marriage, too, would need to end. However, she also knew that at least one very precious part of the union would continue to be in her life—Faith.

Patricia worked two jobs to make ends meet. However, Faith continued to have frequent episodes of violent vomiting. Her frantic mother looked for some way to get medical help for her child, and eventually she found that the only way for Faith to have the help she needed was to give the child’s custodial rights over to the state. Through many hours spent in prayer with her Lord and despite countless tears, Patricia was at last able to do this, and she was also finally able to arrange for Faith’s placement in a well-rated residential school fifty miles away.

Because Patricia was determined to continue her close relationship with Faith in spite of the long work week and intervening miles, she put in many hours driving between her home and the school, spending every weekend with her daughter. Many times Patricia would bring Faith back home with her so that they could walk together along the beach and garner nature’s healing.

One morning Patricia awoke very early, knowing that she needed to go to Faith immediately. When she got to the living facility where Faith was the only female resident, Patricia found that the previous day’s aide, at the end of her shift, had simply gone home, leaving the disabled children in the cottage totally alone overnight, since no one had come in to supervise the next shift.

After making calls to all the listed emergency phone numbers without anyone ever answering, Patricia was furious as well as incredulous. Finally she was able to reach the school’s director and tell him about the untenable situation, but all she received for her pains were his anger and resentment, directed at her.

As quickly as possible, Patricia arranged for Faith to come back home to live, but unfortunately this meant that Patricia had to quit working in order to give Faith the home care she needed. Because of Faith’s continued chronic vomiting episodes, the children’s hospital became their second home. On several occasions, Faith and Patricia were sent to the psychiatric department of the hospital and Patricia was accused of abusing her daughter—with doctors pressing Patricia to admit that this was the source of Faith’s screaming and vomiting. If Patricia—who would have done anything to help her daughter—had possessed less strength or faith, these allegations would have completely crushed her. As it was, she was able to absorb them, fight to have her daughter’s real needs looked at, and pray, pray, pray. Her prayer was always, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”

Measuring multiple medications, enduring eleven extensive operations, experiencing Faith’s two clinical deaths—life for Patricia and Faith was anything but easy. Faith also had recurring bouts of hydrocephalus, which were eventually taken care of at Boston Hospital.

Nurses often tried to tell Patricia that Faith would never be well, but Patricia’s unshakable belief in her Lord and in His overarching divine plan for Faith’s life was so strong that she was able to muster the fight for what was needed and endure all negative comments. During the long stays at hospitals, Patricia always took Faith in her wheelchair for morning and afternoon strolls outside, so that Faith could experience the healing and beauty of nature.

Faith, as sick and weak as she often was, nevertheless continually smiled and smiled. Patricia let her mind go into an altered state to know what was needed, since Faith couldn’t communicate verbally to say what was wrong. Autism was the official label given to Faith by the medical community, and Patricia allowed this. Yet she still felt that some divine plan for her daughter was at work, coming through her dear Jesus. Patricia was convinced that if she had the faith to wait and listen, the answers would eventually come.

Previously, while living at the school, Faith had been taught a process known as Facilitated Communication, or FC. This procedure, brought to the school by a speech teacher, involved a facilitator lightly holding Faith’s wrist so that she could place her index finger on the letters of a computer keyboard, one after another, in order to communicate in typewritten words. Once Faith began to learn and practice the communication process, she relished the time spent with her facilitator. When Faith moved back into her mother’s home space, Patricia arranged for Faith’s facilitator at that time, Sarah, to come spend time with Faith, first at a local school and later at Patricia’s home. Faith was now able to communicate with the world and its people.

In the autumn of 2002, the break that Patricia had been seeking for years finally came. Through a local doctor, Faith was given three things: a name for her chronic difficulty (Cyclical Vomiting Syndrome, or CVS), a recommended doctor who was highly knowledgeable about the syndrome and could help with it (Dr. David Fleisher in Columbia, Missouri), and a combination of medications that could help alleviate the symptoms. For the first time in Faith’s nineteen years of life, the violent vomiting that had hospitalized her over and over again was in remission. She was also able to stop taking all the other drugs—eight or more—whose side effects had previously served to debilitate her functioning.

Just at this time, too, Patricia suggested that Faith and Sarah begin to explore Faith’s mission in her present life. The combined results were astounding. Without the constant vomiting, Faith could concentrate on important inner thoughts and concepts. Having Sarah come to Faith’s home meant that Faith felt safe and comfortable both with her longtime facilitator and in her own personal environment. Focusing on Faith’s mission in life added an even greater depth to the weekly sessions.

All of these factors allowed Faith to look more deeply within herself and to bring out the wisdom that she found there. Inspired by questions that Patricia and Sarah asked, Faith began to type page after page of information—messages that she says are her life’s mission and her gift to the world. Here are some of her communications:

“I would like it said that people are blocked by living—hurried up, and consuming things of no value. Everyone thinks that is life. Real life is from a point within that radiates out to the world.

“The experience of that point within is full of serenity and assurance that I am loved, that I have a role to play in this world. I am not an outsider. I am a part of the whole of life. I bring my gifts to the world, too. And this point within is like another heaven on earth. It is home. It has beautiful colors and whirling movements. It is so beautiful.

“This is the center of the real Self. It is the best place to be. If you can live from that place, you will be Love’s messenger.

“You stay in that place by saying you want to do it. You keep saying that no matter what, this is where I want to live and I will not allow circumstances to take me from this place. It is a gift to other people, too. Yes, to stand up for your own soul is to stand up for everyone else’s soul, too.

“I know that whatever happens, I will stay in this state of love. That is what I tell people—that is what they need to do. They need to stay in the state of love.

“When my mother prays, I see her praying in my heart. There is a cord connecting my heart to hers. It is almost at times like a mirror. When she prays, I am praying, too. I am praying for the same things: my health, her living many years so I can be with her, being grateful for blessings, getting us through the night (because we have had some very tough nights when neither slept because I was so sick). We pray for peace and that we are good people, that we help to bring some love to the shattered world—a world on fire from fear and hatred based in ignorance.

“I do believe I chose to come here autistic. I believe it is a cooperation between myself and God. I am wanting to say God sees me as a messenger. Yes, He devised a plan to give me freedom so I could find freedom inside myself. So rather than finding freedom from the outside, I find it within myself. That is the plan—a very good one. It’s us and God—us and God as a team.

“My autism is no accident. It is the only way I can function. I have finely tuned connections that being normal would hide. I could not be normal and manage what I know. The world would kill it off. By being autistic, I can protect my knowledge in the autism and use it when it is needed. Mom and Sarah are my lights on this path because they believe.

“I died twice in the hospital. I came back to be with Mom, to love her, to give her my wisdom until the time comes that we are apart, but we are never that far apart. She has loved me beyond measure. I am here to give that love back to her and to others who have throughout my destiny loved me. I have words to say, to give, to teach. To bring some wisdom is my mission. I was not ready to go. The world needs my laughter.

“There are ways of communicating with others from the heart. Here’s the scoop. You have to believe—that’s all. You have to be open. You have to slow down and hear—so slow down and listen!

“When I send a message to someone, I picture them in my mind—I have an image of them. I talk to them from my soul’s voice and send the message with love. But this procedure of sending messages and vibes can only happen when the receiver believes in it and when there is pure love.

“When people send each other messages—like my friends in that picture [the Yale University Facilitation Group]—it is like their thoughts come to me on lines of love energy. I hear their messages in my heart, and I send back messages to them in the same way.

“I have been thinking about friends in this life who are taking time to be in a place to teach the way to go. I, too, am a friend on the path who can help others.

“Who is my support? I think my support is a higher power. I am Love, too. I speak Love and I live Love.

“Sarah is here to go full circle, to help me and Mom to gel our spiritual findings, to fulfill our mission.”

Thus Faith, as one of the psychic children of the world, is indeed fulfilling her mission by giving messages of love and truth to all who are open to hear them and act upon them.