April 9, 2000

Subject: The rape of the Virgin Mary + The Birdies: An incredible miracle story + PERSONAL AFFIRMATION / PRAYER

Hello everyone

Here is a special email I've prepared for you recently and the time seems right to send it now. These are 2 highly inspiring and moving stories that you will want to read at a moment of calm when nothing rushes you.

Also regarding the first weekly list to be issued by the Peace Mediation Focus Group, it has not been possible to send one this weekend because we are still in the midst of working out the process through which we will select, prepare and network these suggested weekly meditation foci. But things are moving ahead at a brisk pace and we should be in a position to recommend our first meditation focus very soon. In the meantime, there is a mounting humanitarian crisis in Ethiopia that warrants our healing vibrations of love, peace and harmony to help settle the simmering armed conflict between Ethiopia and Erithrea and catalyze a sense of global urgency to bring succour and food assistance in a timely manner to the millions of children, women and men whose lives are at great risk now because of a prolonged drought in the whole region. People in nearby Soudan have also been experiencing hunger because of a conflict between the north and the south parts of this country. So please keep these situations in mind during your moments of meditation this week.

For more details read "HORN OF AFRICA: UN warns of millions threatened with hunger" at: http://www.reliefweb.int/IRIN/cea/weekly/19990625.htm

and "U.N. says 16 million at risk from northeast African drought" at:

http://www.cnn.com/2000/WORLD/africa/03/30/un.horn.of.africa.ap/

Love and blessings

Jean Hudon
Earth Rainbow Network Coordinator
http://www.cybernaute.com/earthconcert2000


Taken from: http://www.emissaryoflight.com/board/discussion/messages

Written by Tony Budell <BHA@netcomuk.co.uk> (Brother Anthony) and posted on March 05, 2000


The rape of the Virgin Mary

The village is a mess! Months of continuous shelling have destroyed most of the surrounding houses leaving behind piles of rubble, charred furniture and the remnants of people’s lives in grotesque heaps. A few of the buildings, once the pride of loving owners, stand as empty shells, the glass in the windows gone. Blackened frames are left as a hideous calling card for the rampaging fires that had raged and ravaged, engulfed and destroyed, escaping through windows and doors to continue its rampage through other buildings.

Once its grip was assured, nothing was safe from its ferocious attack, people’s homes, belongings, valuables and even the living themselves were left as black and charred epitaphs to its all consuming passion for death and destruction. Once the mind has accepted the overall picture of destruction, smaller, seemingly less significant fragments of people’s lives begin to emerge, a charred and twisted doll, a dead puppy, children’s toys scattered and strewn everywhere as the little owners had either fled to safety with loving parents or had just died where they were under a hail of screaming mortar shells and thudding bullets.

We are in the village of Gruda, some ten miles from Dubrovnik on the Adriatic coast and our task is to bring humanitarian aid to the stricken families and refugees in the area. During the course of last year we set up a charity called British Humanitarian Aid and each month we have travelled overland from England with our ‘Convoy of Hope’. Ordinary people are encouraged to hire a suitable vehicle, fill it with humanitarian aid and then travel with me to places of extreme hardship and deprivation.

The ‘Yugoslavian’ conflict has been raging for over a year and peace seems a million miles away. The warring factions, Croatia, Serbia and Bosnia Hertzagovinia seem bent on total annihilation of each other’s towns and villages, caring little for the inhabitants who are nothing to do with war. Peasant farmers trying to till the land, trying to keep together a small herd of pigs and cows but are now caught up in this deadly game of war. Indiscriminate shooting cares nothing for the elderly, nothing for the children, nothing for the innocents, a bullet fired at a soldier will tear into an innocent body just as easily as a soldier’s body and death is always death.

All is quiet, the shelling has ceased for a while and rifles are not being aimed and fired in our direction. The distant bark of a dog and wind rustling through nearby trees are all the sounds we hear. As I pick my way carefully through the rubble, avoiding sheets of tin and any other flat object that might be concealing a land mine, I notice the village church. It has been hit several times by mortar shells and the bell tower is leaning awkwardly. The beautiful stained glass windows are no more, either from direct hits or from the blast of exploding shells, nothing remains. As I walk nearer to the church I begin treading on stained pieces of glass, blue, green, red, once upon a time these pieces had formed a beautiful coloured mosaic in the window frame for all to see, now just crunching pieces of glass beneath my feet. Slowly, the church door opens and I am face to face with an elderly sister of mercy, her habit covered with dust, her hands and face bathed in sweat and dirt from endless toil. We know not one word of each other’s language and yet as we stand looking at each other, we both understand each other’s suffering. As I walk over to her she takes my hand in hers and I feel the hurt and pain that she is living with.

Together we walk into the church and I survey the carnage around me. The font is smashed and overturned, the pews riddled with bullet holes. The altar has been defecated upon and the ‘Stations of the Cross’, an integral part of the Catholic Church, have been used as target practice by men who know not love, only hate. The nun takes my hand again and leads me into a side room which is empty except for a statue of The Virgin Mary. She is totally intact except for Her eyes, both been gouged out by a knife or bayonet and only black empty holes remain. I am not a Catholic and yet this one act, this rape of the Virgin Mary, angers me beyond belief. How can peace prevail when so much hatred is stored in men’s hearts? My sobs echo through the church and the Sister of Mercy just holds my hand in hers and allows my outpouring of emotion. Although it is only an alabaster statue, the underlying hatred that it signifies shows how little men know about love, know about compassion, know about understanding and tolerance. The Virgin Mary is the total embodiment of love and has been worshipped as such for two thousand years, and yet man shows his all too prevalent animalistic tendency in such obscene ways again and again. Two world wars and hundreds of minor conflicts, resulting in the deaths of thousands upon thousands of innocents has taught us absolutely nothing, we go on and on killing and maiming each other, and for what? A tiny piece of land? an ethnic cleansing of an entire community because we cannot tolerate someone else’s religion, although we have none of our own. Will man ever learn? My sobs continue to echo through the church and I feel that my tears are the tears of an entire nation of people, I feel their hurt, I touch their suffering, I am part of them and they are a part of me.

I am back among the ruins now, treading carefully over the remains of someone’s once proud home, when I notice a blooming yellow rose. It has no right to be here and yet it is, defying the cold winds of February, defying the raining mortar shell, defying the falling rubble, defying all attempts to stifle it’s beauty. As I look at it, I know what I must do. I climb over the rubble and pluck the yellow rose from its stem and, cradling it gently in my hands, I walk back to the church and the side room.

The statue is as I had left it and I gently place the yellow rose in Her hand and those black empty holes which once held the eyes of a woman who knew only love, seemed to smile at me, yes, they actually seemed to smile at me.

One year later, almost to the week, we were in the village of Medjugorje in Bosnia Hertzagovinia. Only 15 miles away was Mostar, besieged for over two years and the scene of some of the most severe bloodshed spilt during this conflict. We had just become the first humanitarian aid convoy ever to reach the beleaguered city and although an extremely difficult undertaking, we had managed to get through. Our spirits were running high and some of us decided to visit the local church to give thanks for our safe passage in and out of Mostar. Medjugorje is a very holy and significant village as here, during June of 1981, six children reported that the Virgin Mary had appeared to them on a hillside and spoke with them. To this very day, She is still appearing and the village has become a Mecca for hundreds of thousands people, Catholics and non-Catholics alike. This simple village is situated in the mountains and although within hearing distance of the shells reigning down on Mostar and the crack of rifles heard above the wind, peace settles like soft snow on one’s emotions. It seemed ironic that I stared at the words written on a board outside of the church and attributed to the Virgin Mary 10 years previously, long before the conflict began.

“Hatred creates division and does not see anybody or anything.”

I sat at the very back of the church and closed my eyes in prayerful thanks and as I did so ‘saw’ a light gliding gracefully and slowly up the centre aisle of the church. Although I say ‘saw’, I never actually opened my eyes, fearing that if I did so, the spectre that I was witnessing would simple float away. The light moved ever closer until I could actually feel the warmth coming from it. Just as one would feel the warmth of a fire as one passed it, this same heat was emanating from the light. Suddenly, I felt two gentle soft hands being placed upon my head and the words, so full of love, so full of gentleness……

”Thank you for the Rose”

It was to be three years before the significance of those words became a part of my entire life……….

“Sweet Tony, what do you want?” The soft gentle words floated through my heart as I immersed myself in a loving meditation. Instinctively, the sudden realisation that I was in the presence of the Divine Mother came to me and tears poured forth from my eyes, from my heart and from every cell of my being. Not tears of sorrow, but tears of absolute loving bliss. She was not the Virgin Mary and yet She was. She was the Divine Mother, The Feminine aspect of the entire Universe and I was totally immersed in Her loving embrace. With my entire body shaking with uncontrollable tears, I answered Her, ‘Dearest Divine Mother, take me to the heart of all love, that place of total bliss that I yearn for so much’. The Divine Mother answered my silent prayer: “Sweet Tony, how can I take you somewhere that you are already”? The Divine Mother continued ‘speaking’ to me as if She was actually inside of my heart, inside my innermost self, Her words full of love, full of tenderness, full of compassion. She explained that it was necessary, during my deep meditation, to take me deeper than the deepest ocean and higher than the highest mountain. A place where the essence of all love manifests itself into absolute bliss. A place where the self detaches itself from the human manifestation and joins the soul for a period of renewal. A place where the eyes see the love, the ears hear the love and the heart touches the love. It is a place where few have ventured and I knew within my heart that I had touched the innermost self and the innermost self had touched me. I was, for a few brief minutes allowed the supreme joy of complete immersion within the source of all love, The Divine Mother Herself.

It is so very difficult describing the indescribable. How can I begin to describe that which I and only a few others have experienced? The Divine Mother’s loving energy was absolute paradise and for a short while, I wanted nothing more than to leave this physical body and merge forever into Her love. I felt overwhelming pain during this time and although difficult to comprehend, the Divine Mother’s love can cause immense pain: not the pain of hurt but the aching pain of loving energy flowing through every cell of one’s entire body. As we search in vain for the transitory pleasure, the illusions, the sensual, few of us can grasp the simple truth that within our own hearts is paradise. I was in paradise and did not want to leave that place of love within all love. I wanted to stay embraced within the heart of the Divine Mother. How can you possibly describe being so light that you could float around the room and yet at the same time, so heavy that it is impossible to raise one single eyelid. It cannot be described and I can but give you in some small measure, the emotions that I felt at that time.

Her nearness is my true inner happiness, my contentment, my strength, for in Her I have touched paradise, have been in paradise and paradise is real, no illusion, no fairy story, just real. The Divine mother continued to speak to me, “You have always been a man’s man, tough, uncompromising, filled with a strength that has enabled you to fulfil the tasks given unto you. The time has come for you to receive the feminine aspect from me”. My entire body was still shaking and tears continued to flow. The Divine mother continued, “Your work with people in need has required great strength and will continue to require that strength, with my feminine aspect added, greater achievements will come”. She then asked me if I had any questions that I would like to ask Her….

My first question was to ask The Divine Mother why was I not only being given Her wonderful Blessing of the ‘feminine aspect’ but also being allowed the wonderful pleasure of asking Her questions, for surely someone as down to earth as me could not be so richly blessed. “ Sweet Tony, you are living in a material world, the answer to your question is this, do you remember the yellow rose?”

‘The Yellow Rose?’ It had not been in my mind since that day in Gruda and yet I was now hearing these words. Could it have been my imagination, I really do not know. I know only that it was such an emotional moment for me that I wept……. As the Divine mother’s question floated through my thoughts, “Do you remember the Yellow Rose”? The answer was, ‘Yes, how could I ever forget’? The simple act of placing a yellow rose in the hand of an alabaster statue had been the simple gesture that had enabled this wondrous ‘link’ with The Feminine Energy, The Divine Mother Herself. My mind dwelt upon this incident for a short while and I thought that if we could receive such blessings for such a simple act, how richly blessed would mankind be if it only learnt to love its fellow man instead or waging such terrible wars……………. We have so much to learn.

“Sweet Tony, where are you going?” I had decided to end my meditation early because others in the room might have been put off by my sobs echoing through the room. I told Her that I thought I should go outside for fear of disturbing the others. “Sweet Tony, we have but a short time in each others company, please stay”. I replied that I thought it unseemly to weep so much in front of Her, but She just said “Does not a mother welcome her child when that child weeps from pain and anguish, is it not more fitting for a mother to receive her child’s tears when those tears are of absolute joy?” I replied, ‘But Divine mother I am 51 years old’ She laughed gently and said “Sweet child, you are 51 but I am older than the stars. Please stay with me, I am enjoying your company”. After the meditation had finished, I apologised to the others around me and they were really wonderful, supportive and forgiving.

That same evening, just before retiring to bed, the same gentle soft voice told me that I had much to do and much to achieve. I was to continue my work in the knowledge that I was being guided step by step and that that Her Divine presence would always be with me. After this the Divine Mother left and I slept. Time has passed but each day I feel Her Divine presence in fact, I do not think She ever leaves me. Her presence is very apparent as my anger has subsided and I feel a gentleness all around me. Even as I write these words, the Divine Mother is here with me, prompting me and giving me Her divine guidance of what to say and how to say it.

During the past weeks, the Divine Mother has answered some of my questions and during the course of a loving meditation recently, I asked Her to explain the best way to meditate and what is actually happening whilst we try to raise our vibrations to the highest level possible.

“Sweet children, meditation is a state of consciousness or awareness of the divine within you. Many of you meditate in groups or circles and after a time of peace and quiet, your quiet state produces pictures and images of the divine light which is in all of you. You tell each other of your ‘visions’ seen during this period of calm and like children who do well at school, you need a gentle pat on the back. You are given visual effects to stimulate you into achieving more. The real essence of meditation is to go beyond self, beyond ego, beyond all the tangible senses. I have allowed you, Sweet Tony, a glimpse of that state of consciousness that is within the capabilities of all of you, and all of you can attain to this state of awareness where there is no awareness of anything other than bliss. A state of supreme joy where mind, body and soul merge in oneness with the absolute. No pretty visions, no sounds, no bodily awareness, only a state of consciousness that is not of life, not of death. It is a state of consciousness which the supreme Yogis call the ‘Delta state’. You, sweet Tony were taken to that place for a short while, with spiritual practice, you will be able to return to that place at will”.

The Divine mother continued Her wonderful discourse, Her soft gentle words floating through my heart: “In your meditations, sweet children, do not seek visual rewards, seek only the divine state of supreme bliss with God, with the self that is not the self. You, sweet children, are but candle wax, your senses are the candle wick. Within the state of supreme bliss, you merge as one as the candle flame, a place where the senses are stilled and the love within you grows and expands until your entire being is engulfed in the love within all love. A place of tranquillity where nothing is, and yet everything is. Do you understand, sweet children, like the hurricane, you approach first the gentle breeze, then the wind. As you draw closer the wind intensifies. Its force and awesome power of destructiveness is overwhelming and yet if you proceed into the very heart of the hurricane, you find a place of absolute stillness. Can you see yourselves as the hurricane, your moods, your frustrations, your anger, and yet like the hurricane, within you is a place of absolute stillness, no emotions, no senses, just absolute tranquillity of the divine self”

My next question to the Divine mother was ‘Why have you given me this wonderful blessing of your divine presence. Why me and not others?’

“Sweet Tony, I love no one more nor less than any other. My love is for all of you in equal measure. That which you have received is that which you have yearned for from the depths of your being. You visited me on two occasions, once to place in my hand a gift and the second time, to thank me for your safe return from a city torn asunder by war. Your mind was stilled and in your stillness, I was able to touch you with my love. On two occasions you were like a butterfly resting for a while upon a delicate flower before moving on. You actually felt my love because your mind was completely stilled and open to my vibration, my divine touch. You did not leave the flower this time, but actually became part of the flower. You stayed with me and I with you. All can achieve the same measure of my love for it is limitless. People come to me with prayers asking for different things, a husband, a wife, illusionary things like telling me that they love me when they really only love transitory things. I do not respond to these things because I want you to come to me as a child does for its mother’s milk, for its mother’s comforting embrace. People must come to me with empty hearts and I will fill them with my love, each one of them, no special favours, just unconditional love of a divine mother for her children. Do not flit from flower to flower, come to me and stay with me.”

Since that first encounter with the divine Mother I have felt Her presence on many occasions and have tried to write down all that She says to me. Sometimes it is but a short sentence, short but very meaningful for my own spiritual growth. At other times She has spoken at length and the following passage is, I feel, worth repeating to you. The first of these I received whilst at a spiritual retreat in Glastonbury. England.

“Sweet children, learn to live in me, yes live in me. Live in my love so that my love may live in you. Live in my eyes so that you may see others through my eyes. Live in my ears so that you hear the sweet messages of love that I hear. Live in my heart so that your heart will sing with joyous love that you dwell within the very heart of the divine mother. Do not be apart from me sweet children, live in me, dwell in me, become the love that is me. Do you wait to contact your own thoughts, your own minds?, no, they are always open to you as is my love. My love and nearness is just the same, always with you, always open to you. You say to yourselves that when you cease to breathe you would like to go to Heaven. Sweet children, Heaven is not a place that you travel to, it is a place where you are now, this very minute. Once the realisation of this simple truth comes to you, your journey is over. You will have no need to hurry, no need to venture far for you are already home. To enter that supreme state which you call Heaven, is to lift your consciousness to God of whom you are already a part. In death there is no parting from this oneness, only a greater understanding of its simple reality. Dear sweet children, yield your hearts to the supreme consciousness and become as one with the highest within you. Once you have realised this simple truth, healing and blessings will pour forth from you with every heartbeat. As I leave you sweet children, remember the simple truth that this oneness with God is your true freedom.”

I can add nothing more to this document, other than stating once again that I ask only that you read it with an open mind and draw your own conclusion’s to it’s authenticity. I am not a priest or religious figure, far from it. I am just a very ordinary person who has been touched by the wonderful love of the Divine mother, the ‘Feminine Aspect’ of The Universe. It is Her task to nurture all growing, living things and each one of us is special to Her…………




From: "Juliet Easton" <juliet77@negia.net>
Subject: The Birdies: An incredible miracle story
Date: Mon, 13 Mar 20000

This is a really incredible miracle story that I wanted to pass on to you!

Juliet Easton
Homepage: http://www.negia.net/~juliet77


The Birdies

On July 22nd I was enroute to Washington, DC for a business trip. It was all so very ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a plane change. As I collected my belongings from the overhead bin, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Service Representative immediately. I thought nothing of it until I reached the door to leave the plane, and I heard a gentleman asking every male if they were Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was wrong and my heart sunk. When I got off the plane a solemn faced young man came toward me and said, "Mr. Glenn, there is an emergency at your home. I do not know what the emergency is, or who is involved, but I will take you to the phone so you can call the hospital."

My heart was now pounding, but the will to be calm took over. Woodenly, I followed this stranger to the distant telephone where I called the number he gave me for the Mission Hospital. My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my three year old son had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door for several minutes, and that when my wife had found him he was dead. CPR had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the paramedics had continued the treatment as Brian was transported to the hospital. By the time of my call, Brian was revived and they believed he would live, but they did not know how much damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart.

They explained that the door had completely closed on his little sternum right over his heart. He had been severely crushed. After speaking with the medical staff, my wife sounded worried but not hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness.

The return flight seemed to last forever, but finally I arrived at the hospital six hours after the garage door had come down. When I walked into the intensive care unit, nothing could have prepared me to see my little son lying so still on a great big bed with tubes and monitors everywhere. He was on a respirator. I glanced at my wife who stood and tried to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed like a terrible dream. Doctor's filled me in with the details and gave a guarded prognosis. Brian was going to live, and the preliminary tests indicated that his heart was OK, two miracles in and of themselves. But only time would tell if his brain received any damage.

Throughout the seemingly endless hours, my wife was calm. She felt that Brian would eventually be all right. I hung on to her words and faith like a lifeline. All that night and the next day Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like forever since I had left for my business trip the day before.

Finally at two o'clock that afternoon, our son regained consciousness and sat up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever heard spoken. He said, "Daddy hold me" and he reached for me with his little arms. By the next day he was pronounced as having no neurological or physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread throughout the hospital. You cannot imagine our gratitude and joy. As we took Brian home, we felt a unique reverence for the life and love of our Heavenly Father that comes to those who brush death so closely.

In the days that followed there was a special spirit about our home. Our two older children were much closer to their little brother. My wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were very close as a whole family. Life took on a less stressful pace. Perspective seemed to be more focused, and balance much easier to gain and maintain. We felt deeply blessed. Our gratitude was truly profound.

The story is not over

Almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian awoke from his afternoon nap and said, "Sit down mommy. I have something to tell you." At this time in his life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large sentence surprised my wife. She sat down with him on his bed, and he began his sacred and remarkable story.

"Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door? Well, it was so heavy and it hurt really bad. I called to you, but you couldn't hear me. I started to cry, but then it hurt too bad. And then the 'birdies' came."

"The birdies?" my wife asked puzzled. "Yes," he replied. "The birdies made a whooshing sound and flew into the garage. They took care of me." "They did?" "Yes," he said. "One of the birdies came and got you. She came to tell you I got stuck under the door." A sweet reverent feeling filled the room. The spirit was so strong and yet lighter than air. My wife realized that a three year old had no concept of death and spirits, so he was referring to the beings who came to him from beyond as "birdies" because they were up in the air like birds that fly.

"What did the birdies look like?" she asked. Brian answered, "They were so beautiful. They were dressed in white, all white. Some of them had green and white. But some of them had on just white." "Did they say anything?" "Yes," he answered. "They told me the baby would be all right." "The baby?" my wife asked confused. Brian answered. "The baby laying on the garage floor." He went on, "You came out and opened the garage door and ran to the baby. You told the baby to stay and not leave." My wife nearly collapsed upon hearing this, for she had indeed gone and knelt beside Brian's body and seeing his crushed chest whispered, "Don't leave us Brian, please stay if you can." As she listened to Brian telling her the words she had spoken, she realized that the spirit had left his body and was looking down from above on this little lifeless form.

"Then what happened?" she asked. "We went on a trip." He said, "Far, far away." He grew agitated trying to say the things he didn't seem to have the words for. My wife tried to calm and comfort him, and let him know it would be okay. He struggled with wanting to tell something that obviously was very important to him, but finding the words was difficult. "We flew so fast up in the air. They're so pretty Mommy," he added. "And there is lots and lots of birdies."

My wife was stunned. Into her mind the sweet comforting spirit enveloped her more soundly, but with an urgency she had never before known. Brian went on to tell her that the "birdies" had told him that he had to come back and tell everyone about the "birdies." He said they brought him back to the house and that a big fire truck, and an ambulance were there. A man was bringing the baby out on a white bed and he tried to tell the man that the baby would be okay, but the man couldn't hear him. He said the birdies told him he had to go with the ambulance, but they would be near him. He said they were so pretty and so peaceful, and he didn't want to come back.

Then the bright light came. He said that the light was so bright and so warm, and he loved the bright light so much. Someone was in the bright light and put their arms around him, and told him, "I love you but you have to go back. You have to play baseball, and tell everyone about the birdies." Then the person in the bright light kissed him and waved bye-bye. Then woosh, the big sound came and they went into the clouds. The story went on for an hour. He taught us that "birdies" were always with us, but we don't see them because we look with our eyes and we don't hear them because we listen with our ears. But they are always there, you can only see them in here (he put his hand over his heart). They whisper the things to help us to do what is right because they love us so much.

Brian continued, stating, "I have a plan, Mommy. You have a plan. Daddy has a plan. Everyone has a plan. We must all live our plan and keep our promises. The birdies help us to do that cause they love us so much." In the weeks that followed, he often came to us and told all, or part of it, again and again. Always the story remained the same. The details were never changed or out of order. A few times he added further bits of information and clarified the message he had already delivered. It never ceased to amaze us how he could tell such detail and speak beyond his ability when he talked about his birdies. Everywhere he went, he told strangers about the "birdies." Surprisingly, no one ever looked at him strangely when he did this. Rather, they always got a softened look on their face and smiled.

Needless to say, we have not been the same ever since that day, and I pray we never will be.




Date: Sat, 25 Mar 2000
From: Trevor Osborne <wharmony@iinet.net.au>
Subject: PERSONAL AFFIRMATION / PRAYER

TO ALL GLOBAL CITIZENS

When you receive this e-mail just read it aloud and "feel" each word, at least once.

That's all you have to do each day for 30 days and feel and see the difference in your life.

This is the power of affirmation / prayer at work.

AFFIRMATION / PRAYER:

There is peace within me.
I trust that I am exactly where I am meant to be.
I recognize the infinite possibilities that lie within me.
I use wisely the gifts I receive.
I pass on the love that has been given me.
I am content knowing that I am a Child of God.
I am allowing His presence to settle into my body.
I am allowing my soul the freedom to sing, dance, and to bask in the sun.
It is there for each and every one of us each day.

If you feel moved, send this on to the people you love.







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