I used to visit Lebanon, my country of origin, at least once yearly to spend time with my parents and siblings. Lebanon was in turmoil, and many people were dying daily, no thanks to the cruel and bitter civil war. In hindsight, I may have taken risks that I would never contemplate at this time.
I was surrounded by death; you could feel it in the air. War has a specific signature that resonates painfully and deeply in us. The setting could have been better for me, a fledgling medium in my teens. Still, I threw caution to the wind and braved the odds to be with my family.
One night, as I slept, I jumped to someone calling my name, “Garo! Garo!” It was a foreign sound that I heard, not a dream. I bolted upright and put on the lights. I thought someone in my family was distressed, so I toured the house and found they were all asleep. I eventually went back to bed, and before I could sink back to sleep, I was again overwhelmed by foreign voices calling my name. This time, I did not put on the lights and tried to see with my mind’s eye, and I picked up different persons from the other side.
The sounds multiplied; there were too many people speaking at the same time. One stood out above the others, it was an older female, and I heard her say, “I know you can hear me… please… I beg you… please, I need to speak with my son.”
I got out of bed again, I wasn’t afraid, but I felt their sadness and desperation. I needed to calm down and find myself, so I focused on closing down and sealing myself with light. I prayed and asked that the poor souls would find the help they needed, and I asked them to leave me alone.
I went to bed and was not disturbed again on that night and ever since. As much as I would have loved to help them, I could not afford to be overwhelmed in that manner, and I am fortunate that Spirit respected my wishes.
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