Creating the Best

          I could actually here the lub-a-dub of her heart, and I felt warm and protected in the confines of her womb.

          “Turn time back even further to that place you were in before you were in your mother’s womb. You will find it to be a place of light. As you float to this place, you will be aware of a sense of peace and contentment,” he commanded. “Can you feel it?”

I heard a faint voice that was mine but sounded different, as if from a different place. “Yes.”“Now that you have arrived, you recognize hundreds of doors, each representing a life you have lived. Can you see the doors?” he asked.I was so relaxed, my response continued to be a struggle. “Yes, I see the doors.”“Describe them to me,” he commanded in his soft voice.“They are all different.” I found it easier to talk as I continued. “Some are large and ornate, while others seem to be simple wood.” I stopped talking, getting lost as I examined each door in amazement. As I passed by a large oak door, with huge, silver handles, I let my hand brush against its exterior. It’s warm. There is an energy radiating from it. The energy felt similar to the threads of light I had experienced before. I stopped and moved my hand across the door, absorbing it’s energy. Unlike the threads, there weren’t any bad or good feelings triggered. It was just energy.Lost in my exploration, Tom pulled me back to task by saying, “Do any of them seem to draw you or have a stronger pull?”I stepped back from the door I was examining and considered all of them. Sure enough, one of the doors seemed to glow, pulling me to it.I responded, “Yes, there is one door that seems brighter than the others.” As I focused on that door, I ended up in front of it without thought or effort. Nothing seemed special about this door other than the ethereal glow that pulsed from it, almost as if it was alive. That’s it. These doors seem to be alive.Tom must have been aware of what was happening as he commanded me, “Open the door and step through it.”

I hesitated for a second, afraid of what of what I might find on the other side and then gently pushed it open and floated across the door into that world.

It was difficult to tell what I was seeing as everything was hazy and confused. Then, a disembodied voice said, “Look at your feet and describe them to me. If you are wearing any shoes, tell me about them.”

Looking down, I became conscious of my feet for the first time since I started this journey. As I focused on them, the haze cleared, and I could see shoes. My God, I am actually in another world.

As the shock passed, I became interested in what I was seeing. “They are black, low-cut colonial shoes, with a silver buckle on them. They seem very worn and are badly scuffed,” I said.

“Tell me about the rest of your clothing,” Tom’s voice said.

Fully in this other world, I considered the rest of my body. I reported, “I have on long socks that come up above my calf. They’re off-white with many holes that have been darned. My pants are a heavy wool, and they’re hot and scratchy in the summer heat.”

I didn’t know how I knew that. But I was sure it was summer.Looking down and touching my chest, “I can feel a wool shirt and a black jacket that seems to weigh heavy on my thin shoulders. The collar is buttoned even in the heat.” I touched my head. “My long hair is pulled back and held by a leather tie. I’m not wearing a hat, and the sun is causing sweat to drip down my face as I walk down a dirt path.” I wiped my face with my hand, feeling a hawkish nose supporting wire-rimmed glasses. This is really weird. I thought it was supposed to be like a movie.It was disconcerting, being aware of all that was happening as I shared this life with someone else. I knew all of the thoughts of this person who was me, and I felt the same as he did, but I had no control over the events as they progressed.Tom’s voice said. “Now look around you and describe everything you see.”

My awareness expanded as I became more comfortable with this duel existence. “I can see wooden cabins that have been cut out of the surrounding forest. The trees are maple mixed with oak,” I observed. “I think I’m in the northeast.”

Fascinated with this new reality, I heard my voice trail off, no longer feeling a need to report to Tom. The path I was on had been worn by countless feet traveling among the cabins scattered along its length. Men, women, and often children could be seen working in gardens cut into the earth beside each cabin. Hoe and spade were being used to dig larger and larger patches to grow what they would need to survive the coming year. I could smell honey suckle mixed with fresh-turned earth as it baked in the summer’s heat. Smoke from outdoor fires wafted across the trail as I marched to my destination.”Hello, Pastor,” they called as I stiffly nodded and walked by, but their voices lacked any warmth.I continued with my brisk stride until I came to the end cabin, where a man met me on the porch, dressed in shabby, well-worn clothes. Several stick-thin children of various ages were sitting on the wooden porch with tears coming down their faces and dripping on ragged clothes. When they saw me, they ran off the porch scurrying to the back of the cabin.

“Thanks for coming,” the man said, his voice tight as he wrung his hands. “I’m not sure she is going to make it through the night.”

He opened the door to his cabin and guided me across a dirt floor to the back of the log cabin where a woman lay on the only bed in the cabin. It was made of cedar posts and strung with ropes holding up a tick mattress.

I looked down at the woman, whose face was gaunt and drawn. Sweat pored off of her feverish face as she turned to me. Recognition brought only fear. Why is she terrified of me? Is it the fever?I sat beside her and said, “Pray with me, Sister Mary.” I laid my hand on her hot head and heard myself say, “Father, help this woman, who has sinned against you and now is suffering the consequence of her evil ways. Her fever is a sign of her wickedness, and let this punishment teach her to fear you, Father.”The part of me that was Jerry was horrified by what I was saying to this woman. I started to leave this new body, when I heard a calm voice say, “It’s okay. These are some of the things you need to know in order to understand your current lifetime. Learn from it now.”

With reluctance, I reentered the preacher’s body and watched as I continued to rant and rave about how this woman must be wicked, or she wouldn’t be dying as she was. I looked into her eyes and saw hatred, mixed with fear and dread. Then, with a start her body jerked, and she was still. I saw her spirit leave her body as it floated up and away from her physical husk.

I turned and looked at her husband. Behind his eyes, I sensed the same hatred I felt from Mary before she’d left her body, but the strongest emotion emanating from him was fear. “Thank you for coming, Pastor,” he said, tears staining his face, as he handed me a small sack of potatoes he had grown in his small garden.I nodded my head and headed out the door. As I left, I said without a trace of mercy in my voice, “John, we need to get the community together to finish the church.” Walking out the door, I saw that the children had been crouched underneath the window next to their mother’s bed. Seeing me, they turned and ran to the woods to hide.I watched myself walk back to my own cabin. How I could have become so hateful?The voice in my head was back, “Let’s go back to an earlier point in this lifetime that may help you answer your question.”As I watched the scene, my vision blurred as images of my life sped by in reverse. It slowed and stopped at an earlier time when I sensed I was about six years old. “Tell me what is happening,” Tom commanded.“I’m a young boy living in a city with my mother and father. It feels like Europe, and it may be London, as everyone is speaking English.”God, what hurts so badly? “I’m in great pain, as I’m kneeling on a rod next to my father’s desk. He is sitting in a cane chair, bending over me as tears stream down my face. Spittle hits my face as he screams, ‘I will not have a son behave like you.’ The pain in my knees is awful, but I know better than to move, as the beating would be much worse. My mother is in the kitchen, and she turns a cautious eye toward me, but she is too afraid of my father to admit her disapproval, even though I can see it.”

Just like earlier, I became so engrossed in the experience that I quit reporting what was happening.

The veins in his neck distended as he yelled, “I have only given you a few verses to remember, but you can’t get them right. How do you think it will look to the church elders when the pastor’s son can’t set a good example?”My knees were in absolute agony. My eyes squinted as I tried again and again to remember the verses, but I couldn’t get past the pain. With every failure, my father became angrier, and finally, in a fit of rage, he hit me with his fist, knocking me into an unconscious heap. He stormed out of the house as my crying mother ran to pick me up and comfort me. The look she shot at his departing back was eerily similar to the one Mary gave me later in this life.Again, the voice commanded me, “Now, I want you to go to the time of your death and see what it is you need to learn from that.”Relieved to be away from the pain, I watched as my life fast-forwarded until I found myself lying in a bed in my cabin. The fever that had taken my parishioner had struck me, and I was consumed by it. I tossed and turned in my sweat-soaked bed with visions of demons and monsters surrounding me.

My wife, a thin, mousy woman, occasionally wiped my head, but I could see from her dry eyes and lack of effort that she was hoping for a speedy end to this loveless, abusive marriage. When the time of the parting came, the preacher part of me was consumed with fear and dread as he remembered the words he had given Mary. With a jerk, I felt him and I leave the body, as I floated back to the place of light.