Reaping What We Sow

Every moment in our life is an opportunity—but most of us stare opportunity in the face every day, without realizing it.

Many of my clients have come to me complaining, “Life isn’t fair; I never get a break.” What they are really saying is that their lives are not fulfilled and they don’t accept responsibility for their choices. Being spiritually responsible means being responsive to the subtle, divine guidance that accompanies our every breath.

Life, in this realm and the next, is really a state of mind—it is fair or unfair depending on how we access it. If we perceive the outcome of a life challenge to be fair, then we have learned to resolve that particular issue—if we don’t, the issue remains unresolved, and it will continually face us off, one way or another, until we learn to resolve it. Such unresolved issues become compounded, when we see ourselves as “victims” of circumstances beyond our control.

A few years ago, a man and his wife came to me seeking to make contact with their teenage son who had recently died of Hodgkin’s Disease. Their grief was filled with anger. “How could this happen to us, why us?” Since they were not willing to resolve the issue, I hoped their son would.

The session started with a good deal of skepticism. “How will we know if Michael has really gone to heaven...how will we know if he is really talking to us?” I assured them that if Michael wishes to make contact, he will do everything in his power to answer their questions—but it will be on his terms.

As usual, I allowed the session to proceed at its own pace. There is no way of predicting how they will go, or how long it will take for a spirit to come through—sometimes they’re just not ready. Communicating with the deceased cannot be forced.

As we sat and talked, I asked Michael’s parents to focus on all of the positive aspects of his life—the good things he had done and achieved, and everything he had wished for and hoped to accomplish.

Michael didn’t waste any time. He appeared to me, standing to the rear of the couch where his parents were sitting—sort of leaning over between them with his arms folded. To expedite things, I immediately began to probe Michael’s energy, asking him to give me some piece of information only his parents would know.

“You both visited Michael’s grave yesterday. He is telling me the red carnations you placed next to his headstone were a nice touch...you remembered red was his favorite color.”

Their faces lit up like the forth of July. “Michael is here?” They chimed.

“Yes, he’s happy you came here today. He’s been looking forward to this, because he has a lot to tell you.”

Their expressions turned sheepish, as if they expected Michael to bawl them out.

“Michael is showing me a silver medallion on a chain. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, it’s his St. Christopher medal; we hung it on his headstone.”

“He is also giving me the name Kim; who is Kim?”

“She is our twelve-year old daughter. She and Michael were very close.”

“He hoped you would have given his medal to her, he doesn’t need it where he is.”

“We’re sorry...we weren’t thinking.”

“He says that’s O.K., no harm done. But he would like Kim to have his collection of rare coins. She has always shown an interest in them.”

They were sobbing—the emotion in the room soared.

“Michael wants you to stop blaming yourselves for his passing; it was his death, not yours; there was nothing you could do to change it. He says he is happy were he is now, and he wants you to stop dwelling on what happened and get on with your lives.”

They were shaking their heads in agreement. Then Michael’s father uttered an interesting statement: “I would have done anything. I would have gladly traded my life for his.”

His father’s selfless love was admirable, but Michael abruptly came back on line.

“Michael is telling me, even if you had done that, it wouldn’t have solved anything. You can’t assume responsibility for what he had to go through. It was his situation to deal with. Do you understand?”

Michael’s father pondered his son’s revelation for a moment; it was beginning to sink in. His purpose wasn’t to live his son’s life—at last, he understood.

“Yes,” he said. “I have my hands full enough living my own life.”

His facial expression revealed him to be a transformed man. He looked as though a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. I was pleased to see him dealing with his grief in a healthy, positive way. Michael’s parents thanked me and then quietly left.

“There is a time for all things,” I thought. There is a time to release our grief. Living to grieve is counter not only to our own spiritual development—it is in opposition to the advancement of the one we are grieving.

We truly do reap what we sow. If we sow negative energy, that is what we will reap. Positive results can only grow out of positive thoughts and actions. Only then can we heal!

CHRISTOPHER SCOTT is a lecturer and author of Beyond Death: Confronting the Ultimate Mystery $16.95+ Shipping. For an autographed copy contact him at: (909) 585-4385