Listening to Angels

When I was 17 years-old I was sitting on a sidewalk along Mass Ave in Boston, waiting to buy concert tickets, when a speeding car ran a red light and careened into the line of people. As the car sped towards me, I froze in fear, then stood up and jumped in the opposite direction that others had fled. I felt a great force of air and life-crushing impact as the car passed me, driving into the building I had just been leaning against. I struggled to get to my feet and spoke aloud, "we're ok". "No, we're not," was cried back, as I turned to see the flesh torn off my friend's legs. In shock, I scanned my surroundings to find the mangled-- and no longer visibly human-- body of the college freshman who had been sitting next to me. There were four other students pinned under and around the car, who suffered life-threatening injuries. But I was ok. In fact, there wasn't a scratch on me.

That's when I had no doubt that there were Guardian Angels.

I didn't realize that we literally have angels protecting us until I enrolled in Amanda Roberts' class on "Guides and Angels", held at the College of Psychic Studies in London. During class we were walked through a meditation to connect with our personal Guardian Angels and as the meditation deepened I was shocked to see an enormous winged being, of both male and female energy, draw closer.

I was further shocked when we were later asked to connect to a classmate's angels in order to bring forth a message. I instantly saw an orb of light in my mind's eye and was given detailed and accurate information regarding my classmate's health, relationships and safety. The information flowed so naturally and I was only shown what I needed to know to deliver the message. Every word given to me was gently and lovingly expressed.

The experience was so fulfilling that I began to ask family and friend's if I could connect to their guardians and give them a reading. Practical insights were shared and enthusiastically embraced. Sometimes the angels even brought forth links to loved ones in Spirit, allowing for amazingly impactful communication and healing.

As my understanding of these beings of light grows I have been shown how to be of service to the angelic realm. Telepathically I have been told that angels need to link with humans in order to heal. This is particularly essential to rescue work, which encompasses helping spirits stuck on the earth plane, removing energetic cords between victims and their attackers as well as retrieving lost or fractured souls of the living. Under angelic direction, I serve Spirit.

I am not a religious person. Talking about angels does not come naturally to me... but believing does. If I see or experience something, then I believe it. I have seen my beautiful guardian angel and the luminous and often colorful orbs of light of others. I whole-heartedly listen to their wisdom and as such am protected and at peace.


Joyce Gibson Monbleau

I met my Aunt Joyce in the late 70’s, when she and Uncle Russell were visiting my grandparents’ Concord, Massachusetts home. They had been living in California, with her two sons from a previous marriage. I don’t remember a great deal from that meeting, only that she was very beautiful and loving.

Eventually she and my uncle moved back East, raising their family in Milford, New Hampshire. They had a third son together and lived in a big house in the woods. Their home became the meeting place for the Monbleau clan every Thanksgiving and Christmas, after my grandparents retired to Jacksonville, Florida.

When I think of my aunt I remember that she was always immaculately dressed. Her hair was always perfect. Her nails were manicured weekly. She wore make-up and jewelry and fashionable clothes. Eventually she would get a modest breast enlargement, which was most noticeable when you’d embrace in an oddly firm hug. The sum of all these accouterments was a very glamorous beauty that was noticeably sophisticated for small town Milford.

Aunt Joyce also stood out as being a very successful and driven businesswoman. I never really knew what she did, only that she was very good at it and was essential to the company she worked for. I knew she was in Sales and had a company car.  I knew she worked long hours, had a cleaning lady and hated to cook.

Joyce had a twin sister named, Jean. They were the eldest sisters of 4 children, to parents Dave and Beverly Gibson. They had a sister named Judi and a brother named Steve, who were noticeably years younger than the twins. I met Jean and Judi when I was in my 30’s and they had come with Aunt Joyce and Uncle Russell to Boston for the day. Playing guide, I took the sisters on a duck tour and we visited the South End. I had always heard about how close they all were, especially the twins, but it was really fun to see their bond for myself. Joyce and Jean just laughed and basked in each other’s attention, the way that soul mates gaze upon their love.

We all knew that when Aunt Joyce retired she wanted to move to Arizona to be close to Jean. That was the plan, regardless of what Uncle Russell may have had in mind. But life has a way of complicating the plans we lay out for ourselves.

Some time around 2007 Uncle Russell was diagnosed with cancer. That was the year that my grandparents were moved to spend their final days with my aunt and uncle. We spent a lot of time together, during the last year of my grandparents’ lives; which meant we spent a lot of time with Russ and Joyce.

My aunt and uncle were uncharacteristically affectionate with one another. I also noticed that my uncle’s skin looked grey. They both behaved like everything was normal and focused on taking care of Nana and Buppa, but I suspected Uncle Russell had cancer. Eventually they would ask me to take care of my grandparents overnight, because my uncle needed to go to hospital in Boston. Soon after they told the family that my uncle had cancer and the prognosis was grim.

During the next two years both of my grandparents died, Buppa on February 22, 2008 and Nana on December 25, 2008. My aunt began to drink and the rekindled affection she and my uncle had found was now replaced by anger, sadness and fear. On September 19, 2010, ten minutes after my son was born, my uncle passed away.

Having cared for and having lost three loved ones, Aunt Joyce’s health was worn down. She made the decision to pack up her New Hampshire home and finally join her twin in Arizona. The timing coincided with Jean’s son having been shot and left a paraplegic. The stress of this, compounded by Jean’s own poor health, took its toll. Jean passed away less than a year after the sisters realized their decades long dream of being reunited.

I wish I could say that my aunt had a happy, full life in her new home, but she didn’t. Our family struggled, her youngest most of all. Rusty self medicated with drugs and became a dealer. In 2014 he was arrested and sentenced for 2 to 5 years.

Less than two months ago my mom phoned me to tell me that Aunt Joyce had been diagnosed with lung cancer. This came as no surprise, as my aunt had a serious dependency on cigarettes the entire time I have known her. She also dealt with throat and lung issues most of her life. Having received word of the condition I had long expected, I had the bleak feeling that my aunt would pass by the end of the year.

A week after hearing the news, I awoke from a nap and felt compelled to write a letter to my cousin Rusty. I meditated and channeled my uncle’s spirit because I felt very strongly that he had something to say to his son. The message was very loving and personal. It held one request, to comfort my aunt. Uncle Russell urged Rusty to relieve my aunt’s soul from the worry and the guilt she had over his imprisonment.

I sent the letter to my mom, who pointed out that it was not my place to tell Rusty that Aunt Joyce had lung cancer. Since Rusty had been sentenced, his greatest fear was that he would not see his mom before she died. We were all worried about how he would take the news that prove his fear a very real possibility. So I held on to the letter.

I also wrote to my aunt. The letter I sent expressed my love for her. It acknowledged how unfair life had been over the last 5 or so years. It assured her that I would remain a loving support of Rusty. In many ways, the letter was my goodbye to her.

My aunt was a very proud woman. She always down played her health issues and would say she was fine. So when my mom called to tell me that Aunt Joyce was in the hospital, and relayed the sad details of the state she was found in, I knew my beautiful aunt was suffering.

I eventually sent the letter to Rusty and in October I flew home to the states and was able to spend 6 hours with my cousin. During this time we talked about the letter, his subsequent conversations with my aunt and how he planned on handling a life without her. Rusty talked about the last year that Uncle Russell was alive and how angry his mom had become. He also talked about wanting to take care of her but knowing that they were not always emotionally good for one another.

During this afternoon, Rusty and I meditated together. In doing so, I saw an image of him and his mother, in which they appeared like twins. Their bond was undeniable, but there were some bleak energy surrounding their love. I focused on removing the negative cords around them and saw Aunt Joyce and Rusty, reconnect as a loving mother and son.

A few days ago I was woken up throughout the night by the thought, “Aunt Joyce needs your help.” In the early morning I meditated and I saw my aunt emaciated, with unkempt hair and broken nails. She looked weak and as though she was sleeping.

I was unsure about what I was seeing, so I summoned my spirit guides to help me.  An angel, whom I call Jeremy, appeared in a beautiful garden. As I looked around I saw Hermia, the healer, begin to bath my aunt in golden light. She was transformed into a peaceful sleeping beauty, as Hermia wrapped Joyce in a white robe. The next moment Jeremy leaned over, picked up my aunt like one would a sleeping baby, and flew her up into the sky.

All day Monday I waited for news about my aunt. It didn’t feel as through she had died, but that death was imminent. When word didn’t come, I reached out to my cousin, Ronnie, who said that Aunt Joyce was doing very well. She had moved to Detroit to live with my cousin Gregg and his family. Gregg had helped her stop drinking, was working on getting her to smoke electronic cigarettes and had set her up with a treatment plan for the cancer. I was confused by my visions, but overjoyed by the news.

As the week wore on I tried to make sense of what my meditation meant. I felt as through my aunt had received some divine healing and that a burden was lifted, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that her time on the earth plane was coming to an end.

Yesterday, Thursday November 13, 2014, I received a message to call Ronnie. Aunt Joyce had suffered a heart attack and had passed away. As I heard the news, I quietly thanked Spirit for ending her suffering.

In the hours that have passed, as I’ve reflected fondly on my time with my aunt, I am struck by one thing. I have not shed a tear. My heart feels heavy, I have compassion for the loss our family has suffered, but I am not sad.

When I closed my eyes shortly after hearing the news, I saw my beautiful aunt smiling at me. She laughed and said she was at peace. She asked me to tell her sons that she was with, “Dad and Jean.” She also asked me to send healing to her sons and grandchildren; and I complied.

Aunt Joyce’s death is the first loss I have experienced as a newly self-proclaimed Spiritualist. The reason why I have not shed any tears is because I know that her body and soul are finally at peace. I know that her happiness has been restored and that her spirit lives on.

Rest in peace, my beloved and beautiful Aunt Joyce. I will see you in my dreams and will share whatever messages you bring me.

Uncle Russell and Aunt Joyce at the dedication of the Russ Monbleau Youth Sports Complex.

My Path To Spirituality

I was raised Methodist, under the loving spiritual guidance of my grandparents. However, my heart and soul followed the spiritual influence of author C.S. Lewis.

When I was eight-years-old I read the Chronicles of Narnia and was enraptured with the multi-dimensional worlds of mythical creatures. Lewis’ tales incorporated themes of Christianity, Greek and Roman mythology, British and Irish fairytales. He took readers on voyages that crisscrossed time, challenged the imagination and inspired heroism and honor amongst his characters and readers alike. This series became the roadmap to my religion.

At a young age I concluded that it did not make sense, nor seem fair, that there should be one god known by one name. Over the centuries hundreds of thousands of people have died because of their religious beliefs and I refused to believe that these deaths were in vain. So I surmised that there was a place for all religions to co-exist and that one’s spiritual identity was personal.

I strived to be open-minded and to respect ideological beliefs and opinions that are loving and non-discriminatory at their core. I also recognized that as human beings we filter words and lessons through our own life’s lens and in doing so may follow an interpretation of the words of the Bible, Quran, Torah, Hindu and Buddhist texts, and other faith based texts. True grace may be found in our interpretation.

With this foundation, I lived my life, made mistakes, had adventures, worked through personal challenges and followed dreams. I lived with openness and as a result had many unique experiences, such as seeing and communicating with spirits.

The summer before my senior year of college, I lived with my mother and sister in Newburyport, Massachusetts and met the ghosts that had been haunting our home. For months I had dismissed phenomenon such as levitating objects and the sound of footsteps when I was alone in the house. That ended when the manifestation was so physical I could no longer tell myself it was my imagination.

One night I arrived home in the early a.m. hours to an empty house. I dressed for bed and went to my room to sleep. Within moments I heard the front door open, and heard footsteps making their way up a flight of stairs, across our den and into my bedroom. I held my breath, kept my eyes closed and prayed I would not be noticed by the intruder. A feeling of safety rushed over me, moments before the room filled with a blue-white light, the sounds of wind and clanking metal. My bed violently shook as I held on to the edges of my mattress.

And then there was stillness. Whatever was with me had left and I was once again alone.

I immediately raced to the phone and called my friend, Chris Meredith. He calmed me and told me his family friend, Nora Lee, could help.

Nora Lee phoned me the next day and asked me what I had experienced. After I retold the evening’s details she asked me who I thought the spirit was. Suddenly I saw a face in my mind’s eye and shared my knowing. His name was Peter. He lived at the turn of the century. He had wavy brown hair, neatly slicked back. He had a mustache. He wore a white shirt and a brown jacket. Nora Lee confirmed what I told her and told me she’d be over in a few days to clear my home of the spirit.

This was Nora Lee’s self-proclaimed calling, and as such, she would not accept compensation for sharing her gift. Chris had told me some things that Nora Lee liked, so I bought her flowers, chocolates, and coffee beans as a thank-you gesture.

Moments before her arrival I went to retrieve her gifts but everything had gone missing. I rushed around looking in every logical and illogical place for her presents until the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find a petite woman with long black hair, glasses and a voluptuous frame. Suddenly there was a loud clap of thunder and it began to rain. I laughed and nervously joked about the coincidence of the rain beginning at her arrival. Nora Lee nonchalantly explained that she had asked her Spirit Guides, who were Native American Indians, to seal the house. Essentially the rain would help contain the energy within my home.

As I led Nora Lee into the house she asked me why I had become upset a few minutes before she arrived. She laughed as I shared the events and explained that it was common for spirits to hide objects. That they would be found one day inside of a wall or another unexpected location.

I offered Nora Lee water and as I retrieve a glass from the cabinet, plates flew out and fell to the floor. Nora Lee told me that there was an old woman throwing the plates. She opted to get right to the task at hand and told me she’d start in the basement, clear all the rooms and bringing the spirits to my bedroom, where the majority of activity had been witnessed.

I waited anxiously for her, as she smudged the windows, doors and coroners of every room with white sage. I could hear her acknowledging the spirits she encountered and every once in awhile she would yell out something to me. “Sometimes…” whoosh, “… you may feel as though a cold energy in knocking the air out of your body.” I gasped for breath. “That’s what it feels like when a spirit runs through you.”

I caught my breath and followed Nora Lee to my room. She instructed me to squint my eyes and look into my bedroom. In doing so I saw the mirage-like, filmy grey outlines of ten or so people. We stepped into the room and Nora Lee ceremonially called forth a white light to lead the spirits to a dimension where there loved ones were waiting.

When the transition was complete, the room felt calm, still and safe. Nora Lee had explained that the spirits were stirred after my friend, Chris Meredith, had stayed with me briefly. Chris came home with me after he was released from the hospital, having suffered serious injuries from a car accident that took his father’s life and left his mother, girlfriend and himself seriously injured. The spirits in my home had felt his deep grief and became aware of our aura. Having "seen" us, the spirits actively worked to get my attention to find a way to help them.

And thus began my belief in Spirit.

The events of the day herald a brief and vivid period in my life in which I sensed, saw and physically felt the presence of spirits. It was a terrifying time for me, as I felt both crazy and constantly vulnerable. Nora Lee gave me some practical advice on how to drawn in my aura and she instructed me to tell them to leave me alone. Eventually they did.

Over the years I saw and helped crossover a few spirits that I fearfully encountered, but for the most part I was closed off from these experiences.

My spiritual evolution had another turning point after a period of unexplained illness. In 2011 I started complaining of exhaustion, body aches and an increase in frustration and anger. My doctor assumed it was stress and prescribed medication. My symptoms and complaints increased over the years until it got to the point that I could no longer function in my life. By the end of 2013 I was in tremendous pain. By February of 2014 I suffered such extreme neurological confusion and exhaustion that I was largely bed ridden.

I went from specialist to specialist, to speculation and quick diagnosis, but saw no relief from the litany of ailments. Desperation led me to follow my instincts and seek out alternative views on wellness.

This journey lead me to Damien Echols, Dr. Sharon Sass, the Swampscott Church of Spiritualism and Dr. Dan of Newburyport. Each meeting would reveal truths that would lead me to healing and spiritual development.

Damien Echols, author of Life After Death: Eighteen Years on Death Row and co-author of Yours for Eternity: A Love Story on Death Row, moved to Salem, Massachusetts, one street away from where my sister and her family lived. For over twenty years I had followed the West Memphis Three case, which falsely accused Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley, Jr. of the brutal murder of three young boys in Arkansas. I was amongst the legions of people who believed in the innocence of the WM3 and who celebrated their release from prison in 2011. Hearing that Elchols was practicing Hermetic Reiki in Salem, I excitedly booked a session with him.

Damien is the embodiment of what faith, meditation and perseverance can manifest. Not only did his healing literally provide me with over two weeks of energy (after months of being bed ridden), he shared some casual advice that would have a dramatic impact on my life. The first was a suggestion to visit a holistic MD that had helped him. The second was written in pamphlet he gave me, which suggested that we all dream bigger.

He also generously invited me to attend a class on hermetic meditation techniques, which resulted in a certification as a first-degree practitioner in the hermetic Reiki tradition, with Damien as the presiding Reiki Master. The invitation extended to joining a healing circle that he and his wife, Lorri Davis, hosted at the short-lived Qi, The Inner Gym in Boston. At Qi, I discovered a past life practitioner that I would later consult.

Although my encounters with Damien have been brief, the essence of his influence is strong. To simply distill it, the Universe conspired to free Damien from a death sentence and to give him a life of abundance and love. Certainly my health problems could be overcome.

And thanks to Damien’s recommendation to see “Dr. Dan” of Newburyport, I have. Within minutes of a Kinesiology-based evaluation, I was told that the muscle tests were responding positive for Lyme disease. I immediately began to cry from relief, as I had suspected that my long suffering was from exposure to this tick-born bacteria. I then began a treatment plan that incorporated holistic supplements with nutrition for healing.

The road back to wellness has proven a long one and I have continued to seek out anything and everyone that may help my recovery. Amongst the helpers, I met Dr. Sharon Sass, with whom I had three brief sessions on the topic of past life regression. During these meetings she frankly confirmed that I was a medium. She gave me some practical advice on how to protect myself against unwanted energy (by imaging that I was standing in a 360° shield of mirrors, reflecting the outside world and energies out and away from me). She also shared that I would be meeting trustworthy people to help me develop my gifts.

Dr. Sass also walked me through one past life regression session. In it I was taken to a happy childhood memory, in which I was running down a hill in the backyard of one of my mom’s friends. The moment stuck with me because there was a man, leaning against a fence, who yelled over at me and told me that I looked just like “Laura Ingalls” from Little House on the Prairie, one of my favorite books at the time.

Next I was taken to a different memory, in which I was in the care of the same friend of my mother’s. She was visiting her mother, who was in a coma. I remember the elderly woman lying in bed, with bandages on her head and face. There was a brief moment when I was alone with the woman. The woman reached for my arm and spoke to me, calling me by her grand daughter’s name. I ran for her daughter, relaying what had happened and ultimately sharing the last known movement and words of the woman before her death.

The finally memory was a series of images and details. I saw the face of a man with brown hair, a curled mustache, and round glasses. I was given the letters “J” and “W” as well as the name “Joseph. I was shown a cello and the Titanic. I sensed that I was seeing the past life of my husband, not my own.

When I left Dr. Sass’ office I confirmed the accuracy of the memories with my mom. I also googled all the information that I received regarding the Titanic memory and was immediately fed the image of John Wesley Woodward, one of the eight musicians who famously continued to play as the Titanic sunk.  Wesley bared an eery and uncanny resemblance to my husband.

Dr. Sass’ confirmation that I had a natural ability for mediumship, lead me to the Swampscott Church of Spirituality. My mother-in-law, Judy Jackson, had attended one Sunday and relayed a service that contained meditation, healing, a Spirit-based lecture and mediumship.

I began attending Sunday services regularly and soon realized that there was a religion that encompassed my spiritual beliefs and personal experiences. Spiritualism honors the legacy of the ascended masters and communicates through Spirit to bring forth messages of love and healing, helping to prove the continuity of life after death.

With my health on a path to wellness, and with a name to help define my beliefs, I have mindfully embarked on journey to fulfill my calling. I follow the signs and walk the path laid before me with trust. All roads are leading to spiritual development and serving Spirit.