Perhaps one of the best things that has happened in my life is that most of it was dominated by uncertainty. My childhood memories of Lebanon are of war, paranormal events, and a horrible school run like a concentration camp by cruel men. When the fighting intensified, we escaped and settled elsewhere. When hope returned that it would be over, my parents relocated back to Lebanon. I saw many things a child should not have seen. I saw fear on the faces of my relatives as we cowered in the dark while the enemy approached. Despite their assurances, I felt a deep dread when I saw how terrified the adults were and when bullets and explosions drew near.
Out of necessity, my parents had to move us from one school to another. There were no transition programs or any form of orientation. In total, I attended four different schools, struggling to make new friends and let go of old ones. All the while, I tried to make sense of the paranormal and other inexplicable events I was experiencing. There was no guidance, so I kept my experiences to myself. My life felt like a whirlwind, and I struggled to belong or to identify with anything because I had no consistency. Reading helped me focus, and the Bible kept me grounded. As I grew older, I began losing loved ones and friends, and their passing devastated me. My world shattered, and I sank into a more profound uncertainty. I envied those with stable lives as I drifted away from myself, trying to make sense of everything around me and within me.
Twenty years ago, I met a very special older woman, Paula. She was a psychotherapist and also very spiritual. I told her everything I had gone through and shared my paranormal experiences with her. She was open and accepting, and she helped me find some normality in the chaos. I was an open book, and one day she explained my experiences, telling me that I had a natural ability, a gift meant for service to humanity. I told her I did not want it, that I was suffering because of it. She understood and sympathised, but she also reminded me not to underestimate the magnitude of the ability, and that it is an honour to serve. I must admit that twenty years ago, I was not the man I am today. Although I could see what she meant about serving others, I was thinking of myself first and foremost. Paula also explained that all the turbulence I had endured served a purpose, to enable me to connect with others in genuine empathy.
It took years for me to claw my way out of that dark tunnel. Had I not gone through what I went through, I would not have been equipped for my mission in life. I cherish my ability because it allows me to connect with beautiful people on this side of life and with their loved ones on the other side. My connections and my service are my certainty and my consistency. In hindsight, I am grateful for everything I have endured. It was worth it for me to be allowed to serve.
Paula was right. It is a great honour indeed.
