Abounding In Steadfast Love
Stories
Sharing Visions
Divine Revelations, Angels, And Holy Coincidences
Our son, Lloyd, died on May 4, 1997. His death was a terrible shock to all of us, but most particularly to his twin sister Grace. But as we gathered a small group of family around us in a little memorial service to say good-bye to Lloyd, Grace told the story of a remarkable dream she'd had -- a dream that ministered to all of us.
To appreciate the meaning of the dream, you need to know that Lloyd had never known how to give or receive affection. The fetal alcohol syndrome he suffered at birth and the abuse of his first two years in a foster home made it impossible for him to know that he was loved, or that he had been endowed with many gifts.
In the dream, Lloyd had been sitting with Grace on the edge of her bed, and giving her a big hug. "Then he said, 'I have found our father.' At first I thought he meant our birth father, but then I realized he meant God."
At the end of our memorial service, we heard a tape of a pianist playing "The Rose." Lloyd had a gift of music, but could not believe the gift, and so didn't develop it. But he loved that song, perhaps because it spoke of the potential so many of us saw in him, of the "seed" that, it seems, needed to die beneath the snows so that somehow, somewhere, it can blossom "with the sun's love" into a rose.
We ache with the loss of our son, and wish he could have changed his last and final choice. But it was his. And we know that Lloyd had learned how to love, and that he has found God. The rose has blossomed. We are in pain, but we are at peace.
Ralph Milton, Angels In Red Suspenders: An Unconventional and Humorous Approach to Spirituality (Ontario: Northstone Publishing, Inc., 1997), pp. 282-283. Reprinted with permission.
Rebecca Coan-Henderleiter
On December 19, 2001, I felt as if my life was spinning out of control. The reasons for what I did are not as important as the results. So I'll skip the details and get to the point -- I made the decision to end my life.
After stopping at a pharmacy and picking up an assortment of over-the-counter medications that I knew would poison and then quickly kill me, I drove to a remote area of a local forest preserve and took all of the pills. I took something to make me fall asleep and eventually stop my breathing, something else to prevent me from vomiting in case I started seizing, and another bottle of pills to cause irreversible liver and kidney damage just in case someone found me unconscious. About fifteen minutes after I began falling asleep, my ex-husband called me on my cell phone. He could tell something was wrong and I confessed that I was in the process of dying, but refused to tell him where I was. He called my best friend and the police. I don't remember much, except having all of them on the phone at the same time -- the police and both of them -- while they frantically tried to figure out what I had taken and where I was. Something I said must have given them a clue, because one of the last things I remember before passing out was a sheriff reaching in my truck and pulling me out. It had been almost an hour since I had taken the pills.
I was put in an ambulance. The paramedics kept telling me to stay awake as they forced liquid charcoal down my throat. Then I felt my body fall backwards and my soul slip out of my body through my feet. Suddenly I was engulfed in a bright, white light and I felt a loving Presence with me. The Presence was angry, not in a harsh, vindictive way, but more like a loving parent disappointed in a child.
"Do you realize what you have done?" asked the Presence.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I couldn't handle my life anymore. It was a living hell."
"That was not Hell. That was your path and I was with you all along. You cannot choose which lessons you need to learn. You lost your faith and turned your back on me. It is not your time to be with me, so you must go elsewhere."
The Presence and light were gone. I was in complete darkness and felt utterly alone. It was extremely uncomfortable. The place I was in was too hot, but at the same time too cold. A horrible odor permeated the place. It was completely offensive, unlike anything I had ever smelled before. A piercing noise filled my ears. My eyes began seeing death all around me. Dead trees, dried bones, a vast gray horizon of nothingness, no color. There were others there, but they were totally unaware of each other's presence. Some walked in circles, bumping into others without realizing they were there. Others just screamed and wailed. Everyone was lost.
"Gi Manado (Great Spirit)," I screamed, "save me! Jesus, please forgive my sins!"
Immediately I was pulled back into the Light.
"My child, your faith and repentance have saved you from damnation. Now you must go back and finish your path."
"No," I cried, "I can't go back to that living hell you put me in. It was too much for me. I'm not strong enough. Surely there are others who can do your will."
"You were created for a purpose and that is your life's work. Your life's work is unfinished. You must go somewhere to fulfill a destiny."
Suddenly I found myself terrified and running for my life. I was sweating and exhausted, but I kept up with the herd. Shots were being fired from everywhere. Then a soldier on horseback got next to me and shot me in the spine. I went down. The pain was excruciating. I tried to get up but could only move my front legs. Only then did I realize I was a buffalo somewhere in the 1800s. My human spirit was in the body of a dying buffalo. I still felt human emotions and was totally aware that the Presence had sent me here. But why?
I wanted to live, to survive, but my hind legs failed me. I was completely exhausted and losing blood very rapidly. As I looked up at the hot sun, I could see the vultures circling closer and closer. They began landing around me and started tearing at my open wound. My cries for help came out in the sound of a dying animal.
"God, save me!" I screamed in my buffalo grunt. Still the torturous death continued.
"Lord, why have you forsaken me?" I cried. "Jesus, help me! Guidu (Mother Earth), Gi Manado, help me! Wonkatonka (God) Creator, Great Spirit, Raphael, Gabriel, Michael, Saint Francis, Mother Mary, Allah, Buddha, whoever you are please stop this! Yahweh, where are you?"
At that moment, I felt my spirit lifted up. I looked down over the field where hundreds of buffalo lay dying. And then I was pulled, again, into the Presence of the white light.
"Who are you?" I asked. "I called out the name of so many gods and angels and saints. Who answered?"
"I did. I am all. I am the One God, the Creator. Many may see me in different ways, but all those who look for good and righteousness find me in one form or another. For you, I am the God of your childhood and the God of your ancestors. I gave you a new life, as you requested. That life was a living hell, much unlike your true life, which you describe as such. Your journey has been difficult, but for all of it there was a purpose -- for you to do great works. You were born a healer and a warrior. Some of your life lessons have given you the gifts you need in order to heal others and fight against injustices."
"I don't believe anything positive has come from my life," I replied. "It just seems like there was always so much pain. I haven't made much of a difference in the world."
"Look at your life, without the pain. See all that has happened and what became of it."
I watched as the Creator showed me different phases of my life. I saw the worst -- molestation as a child, rapes as a teenager, drug addiction, mental illness, abusive relationships, leaving my husband. Then every bad experience shone as it showed its connection to good. It was the incredible amount of strength I was given to live through those ordeals, which gave me the ability to empathize with others who had similar experiences. I saw my unwavering strength to stand up against injustice towards others, one person at a time. My faith gave faith to others, who passed it on. There was a huge chain reaction every time I passed hope on to another. And even in the worst of times, my God was there, giving me the strength to survive and persevere. My life suddenly made sense.
"Your journey is not complete. You must return to your path."
"I want to stay with you."
"Now is not the time. You will return in my time, not yours. If you choose to follow my will, you will find that there is much more in life that awaits you. If you choose to turn your back on my will, you will be without the Light of Life forever, or you may choose to take the place of more dying buffalo spirits. You will be with me, because I have always been with you."
"Please forgive me, Father. I will go back and do your work. I believe you will remain with me. I beg you to let me go back if it's not too late. My body has been so badly poisoned, I'm afraid to return to it."
"All will be well and you will be healed."
A bright purple flash surrounded me. Suddenly, I felt someone pushing on my chest. I gasped for air.
"She's back," someone yelled.
"How long was she down?"
"Two minutes."
"Rebecca! Open your eyes."
I was back in the ambulance.
I spent five days in an intensive care unit, where I was treated for the overdose while doctors monitored my liver and kidneys. My doctor was amazed that I showed no signs of any internal damage whatsoever. Then I was transferred to a psychiatric ward for another four days.
My psychiatrist said it best. "You didn't attempt suicide; you committed suicide. There is no medical reason why you're sitting here talking to me. With what you did to your body, the very best we could have hoped for was you being in a coma, dying of liver failure. God gave you a second chance, and I hope to see you make the most of it. But if you walk into my office as a buffalo, there's not much I can do for you."
Leslie Powell Sadasivan
I have been blessed with mystical experiences since my fourteen-year-old gay son's death. Robbie committed suicide after years of homophobic teasing and harassment at school. He could not find peace with his sexuality because of the effects of this harassment and his struggle with God and the church's anti-gay doctrine. He could not see a future.
Robbie was a very spiritual child. He asked me a week before his suicide if I was sure there was a heaven. He also wrote on his high school book covers, "God made me this way." After his death I found poetry that describes his pain.
Before Robbie's suicide, I was stressed by trying to help him adjust to the pain and isolation of being gay. Despite our restrictions, he kept going on the Internet to talk to other gays and view gay pornography. I kept praying to God to help Robbie and to help our family help him. Two weeks before Robbie died, my husband Peter had been working in his study, and I had gone to bed early. Something wakened me from a sound sleep. I looked around the bedroom, thinking Peter had come to bed, but what I saw was an opaque, circular light hovering over Peter's side of the bed. I went to tell Peter what I had seen right away, because I wanted to assure myself that I wasn't dreaming. I thought it was a sign from God that everything would be okay for Robbie, who had been started on a new antidepressant the week before. Later, I realized that it was a sign from God, telling me that God was with me during this most painful time of my life.
After Robbie's suicide, I learned about the homophobic teasing and harassment he had endured. I kept praying to God to show me how to help keep others from suffering the way Robbie did. I felt inspired by God and Robbie to tell his story, so I contacted several local newspapers and eventually it was printed in four Cleveland newspapers and the Ladies Home Journal. Our largest paper, The Plain Dealer, placed his story on the Sunday paper's front page. It helped to inspire many to activism toward making schools safe for youth perceived to be gay, who are teased and harassed by their peers. Our Gay Center created a Safe Schools Are For Everyone program, for which I am a speaker. With the aid of much prayer, I have shared Robbie's story through speeches to teachers, students, and counselors. It is only through God's grace that I am able to do this, because I am very uncomfortable as a public speaker.
I have had other spiritual signs from Robbie that have helped me to deal with his death. A year after his burial, I awoke at 2:00 a.m. to find the halogen lamp in our bedroom turned on. I woke my husband, but he knew nothing about it. He had not turned it on, as we rarely use the lamp. I felt that it had been Robbie, and went into his bedroom to pray and talk to him. I felt his presence and wept joyfully. The lamp has never turned on that way again. I have had three dreams about Robbie. In the dreams he is always coming back for a visit, looking very peaceful and happy. They are so very real that when I wake it seems like he was really with me. It is a great comfort. And there have been other, smaller signs.
Living without Robbie is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Giving the speeches takes an incredible amount of courage. I know it is God who continues to help me. I never seek speaking engagements -- they come to me. I think and pray about them, and I do say no to some, but most of them I agree to, especially those for teachers and schools. It is only with God's grace that I have the courage to go on.
To appreciate the meaning of the dream, you need to know that Lloyd had never known how to give or receive affection. The fetal alcohol syndrome he suffered at birth and the abuse of his first two years in a foster home made it impossible for him to know that he was loved, or that he had been endowed with many gifts.
In the dream, Lloyd had been sitting with Grace on the edge of her bed, and giving her a big hug. "Then he said, 'I have found our father.' At first I thought he meant our birth father, but then I realized he meant God."
At the end of our memorial service, we heard a tape of a pianist playing "The Rose." Lloyd had a gift of music, but could not believe the gift, and so didn't develop it. But he loved that song, perhaps because it spoke of the potential so many of us saw in him, of the "seed" that, it seems, needed to die beneath the snows so that somehow, somewhere, it can blossom "with the sun's love" into a rose.
We ache with the loss of our son, and wish he could have changed his last and final choice. But it was his. And we know that Lloyd had learned how to love, and that he has found God. The rose has blossomed. We are in pain, but we are at peace.
Ralph Milton, Angels In Red Suspenders: An Unconventional and Humorous Approach to Spirituality (Ontario: Northstone Publishing, Inc., 1997), pp. 282-283. Reprinted with permission.
Rebecca Coan-Henderleiter
On December 19, 2001, I felt as if my life was spinning out of control. The reasons for what I did are not as important as the results. So I'll skip the details and get to the point -- I made the decision to end my life.
After stopping at a pharmacy and picking up an assortment of over-the-counter medications that I knew would poison and then quickly kill me, I drove to a remote area of a local forest preserve and took all of the pills. I took something to make me fall asleep and eventually stop my breathing, something else to prevent me from vomiting in case I started seizing, and another bottle of pills to cause irreversible liver and kidney damage just in case someone found me unconscious. About fifteen minutes after I began falling asleep, my ex-husband called me on my cell phone. He could tell something was wrong and I confessed that I was in the process of dying, but refused to tell him where I was. He called my best friend and the police. I don't remember much, except having all of them on the phone at the same time -- the police and both of them -- while they frantically tried to figure out what I had taken and where I was. Something I said must have given them a clue, because one of the last things I remember before passing out was a sheriff reaching in my truck and pulling me out. It had been almost an hour since I had taken the pills.
I was put in an ambulance. The paramedics kept telling me to stay awake as they forced liquid charcoal down my throat. Then I felt my body fall backwards and my soul slip out of my body through my feet. Suddenly I was engulfed in a bright, white light and I felt a loving Presence with me. The Presence was angry, not in a harsh, vindictive way, but more like a loving parent disappointed in a child.
"Do you realize what you have done?" asked the Presence.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I couldn't handle my life anymore. It was a living hell."
"That was not Hell. That was your path and I was with you all along. You cannot choose which lessons you need to learn. You lost your faith and turned your back on me. It is not your time to be with me, so you must go elsewhere."
The Presence and light were gone. I was in complete darkness and felt utterly alone. It was extremely uncomfortable. The place I was in was too hot, but at the same time too cold. A horrible odor permeated the place. It was completely offensive, unlike anything I had ever smelled before. A piercing noise filled my ears. My eyes began seeing death all around me. Dead trees, dried bones, a vast gray horizon of nothingness, no color. There were others there, but they were totally unaware of each other's presence. Some walked in circles, bumping into others without realizing they were there. Others just screamed and wailed. Everyone was lost.
"Gi Manado (Great Spirit)," I screamed, "save me! Jesus, please forgive my sins!"
Immediately I was pulled back into the Light.
"My child, your faith and repentance have saved you from damnation. Now you must go back and finish your path."
"No," I cried, "I can't go back to that living hell you put me in. It was too much for me. I'm not strong enough. Surely there are others who can do your will."
"You were created for a purpose and that is your life's work. Your life's work is unfinished. You must go somewhere to fulfill a destiny."
Suddenly I found myself terrified and running for my life. I was sweating and exhausted, but I kept up with the herd. Shots were being fired from everywhere. Then a soldier on horseback got next to me and shot me in the spine. I went down. The pain was excruciating. I tried to get up but could only move my front legs. Only then did I realize I was a buffalo somewhere in the 1800s. My human spirit was in the body of a dying buffalo. I still felt human emotions and was totally aware that the Presence had sent me here. But why?
I wanted to live, to survive, but my hind legs failed me. I was completely exhausted and losing blood very rapidly. As I looked up at the hot sun, I could see the vultures circling closer and closer. They began landing around me and started tearing at my open wound. My cries for help came out in the sound of a dying animal.
"God, save me!" I screamed in my buffalo grunt. Still the torturous death continued.
"Lord, why have you forsaken me?" I cried. "Jesus, help me! Guidu (Mother Earth), Gi Manado, help me! Wonkatonka (God) Creator, Great Spirit, Raphael, Gabriel, Michael, Saint Francis, Mother Mary, Allah, Buddha, whoever you are please stop this! Yahweh, where are you?"
At that moment, I felt my spirit lifted up. I looked down over the field where hundreds of buffalo lay dying. And then I was pulled, again, into the Presence of the white light.
"Who are you?" I asked. "I called out the name of so many gods and angels and saints. Who answered?"
"I did. I am all. I am the One God, the Creator. Many may see me in different ways, but all those who look for good and righteousness find me in one form or another. For you, I am the God of your childhood and the God of your ancestors. I gave you a new life, as you requested. That life was a living hell, much unlike your true life, which you describe as such. Your journey has been difficult, but for all of it there was a purpose -- for you to do great works. You were born a healer and a warrior. Some of your life lessons have given you the gifts you need in order to heal others and fight against injustices."
"I don't believe anything positive has come from my life," I replied. "It just seems like there was always so much pain. I haven't made much of a difference in the world."
"Look at your life, without the pain. See all that has happened and what became of it."
I watched as the Creator showed me different phases of my life. I saw the worst -- molestation as a child, rapes as a teenager, drug addiction, mental illness, abusive relationships, leaving my husband. Then every bad experience shone as it showed its connection to good. It was the incredible amount of strength I was given to live through those ordeals, which gave me the ability to empathize with others who had similar experiences. I saw my unwavering strength to stand up against injustice towards others, one person at a time. My faith gave faith to others, who passed it on. There was a huge chain reaction every time I passed hope on to another. And even in the worst of times, my God was there, giving me the strength to survive and persevere. My life suddenly made sense.
"Your journey is not complete. You must return to your path."
"I want to stay with you."
"Now is not the time. You will return in my time, not yours. If you choose to follow my will, you will find that there is much more in life that awaits you. If you choose to turn your back on my will, you will be without the Light of Life forever, or you may choose to take the place of more dying buffalo spirits. You will be with me, because I have always been with you."
"Please forgive me, Father. I will go back and do your work. I believe you will remain with me. I beg you to let me go back if it's not too late. My body has been so badly poisoned, I'm afraid to return to it."
"All will be well and you will be healed."
A bright purple flash surrounded me. Suddenly, I felt someone pushing on my chest. I gasped for air.
"She's back," someone yelled.
"How long was she down?"
"Two minutes."
"Rebecca! Open your eyes."
I was back in the ambulance.
I spent five days in an intensive care unit, where I was treated for the overdose while doctors monitored my liver and kidneys. My doctor was amazed that I showed no signs of any internal damage whatsoever. Then I was transferred to a psychiatric ward for another four days.
My psychiatrist said it best. "You didn't attempt suicide; you committed suicide. There is no medical reason why you're sitting here talking to me. With what you did to your body, the very best we could have hoped for was you being in a coma, dying of liver failure. God gave you a second chance, and I hope to see you make the most of it. But if you walk into my office as a buffalo, there's not much I can do for you."
Leslie Powell Sadasivan
I have been blessed with mystical experiences since my fourteen-year-old gay son's death. Robbie committed suicide after years of homophobic teasing and harassment at school. He could not find peace with his sexuality because of the effects of this harassment and his struggle with God and the church's anti-gay doctrine. He could not see a future.
Robbie was a very spiritual child. He asked me a week before his suicide if I was sure there was a heaven. He also wrote on his high school book covers, "God made me this way." After his death I found poetry that describes his pain.
Before Robbie's suicide, I was stressed by trying to help him adjust to the pain and isolation of being gay. Despite our restrictions, he kept going on the Internet to talk to other gays and view gay pornography. I kept praying to God to help Robbie and to help our family help him. Two weeks before Robbie died, my husband Peter had been working in his study, and I had gone to bed early. Something wakened me from a sound sleep. I looked around the bedroom, thinking Peter had come to bed, but what I saw was an opaque, circular light hovering over Peter's side of the bed. I went to tell Peter what I had seen right away, because I wanted to assure myself that I wasn't dreaming. I thought it was a sign from God that everything would be okay for Robbie, who had been started on a new antidepressant the week before. Later, I realized that it was a sign from God, telling me that God was with me during this most painful time of my life.
After Robbie's suicide, I learned about the homophobic teasing and harassment he had endured. I kept praying to God to show me how to help keep others from suffering the way Robbie did. I felt inspired by God and Robbie to tell his story, so I contacted several local newspapers and eventually it was printed in four Cleveland newspapers and the Ladies Home Journal. Our largest paper, The Plain Dealer, placed his story on the Sunday paper's front page. It helped to inspire many to activism toward making schools safe for youth perceived to be gay, who are teased and harassed by their peers. Our Gay Center created a Safe Schools Are For Everyone program, for which I am a speaker. With the aid of much prayer, I have shared Robbie's story through speeches to teachers, students, and counselors. It is only through God's grace that I am able to do this, because I am very uncomfortable as a public speaker.
I have had other spiritual signs from Robbie that have helped me to deal with his death. A year after his burial, I awoke at 2:00 a.m. to find the halogen lamp in our bedroom turned on. I woke my husband, but he knew nothing about it. He had not turned it on, as we rarely use the lamp. I felt that it had been Robbie, and went into his bedroom to pray and talk to him. I felt his presence and wept joyfully. The lamp has never turned on that way again. I have had three dreams about Robbie. In the dreams he is always coming back for a visit, looking very peaceful and happy. They are so very real that when I wake it seems like he was really with me. It is a great comfort. And there have been other, smaller signs.
Living without Robbie is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Giving the speeches takes an incredible amount of courage. I know it is God who continues to help me. I never seek speaking engagements -- they come to me. I think and pray about them, and I do say no to some, but most of them I agree to, especially those for teachers and schools. It is only with God's grace that I have the courage to go on.
