Angels and deceased loved ones are always with us E-Book

Marlene Toussaint

• Herausgeber: MATO
• Kategorie: Ratgeber
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2011

Seitenzahl: 300

Beschreibung

The book "Angels and deceased loved ones are always with us" serves to comfort those who have lost someone they deeply love and who was really close. All of us live and must die, but we are not dead. We continue to live on another level, on the level of light and love. Nothing can extinguish our immortal soul. moment of the deep mourning. There are so many ways of communication between heaven and earth that never will interrupt, as long as there are humans and love and as long as our world exists. This book is dedicated to my angel and to the people I love in the hereafter and in this world. Very open and personally, the author describes the experiences she had for many years "between heaven and earth" and simultaneously wants to encourage others to open themselves to the spiritual world. Through her deep believes in God and his powers, she is convinced that everyone who is ready can find a connection into the hereafter. One can also experience power and strength, if hate, sorrow and misery in our world let us doubt about sense and purpose of life.

Leseprobe

Marlene ToussaintMATO-VERLAG

and deceased loved onesare always with us

Mato Verlag Memmingen/AllgäuAm Geisberg 6, 87779 TrunkelsbergGermany

Phone-Fax: [phone] - 494445Mobil: 0170-942-9572

ISBN: 978-3-936795-59-2

Internet: www.mato-verlag.de

“Angels and deceased loved ones are always with us”

I have seen my angel and would like to tell you all about it. With this book I also wish to thank my guardian angel for the unique and unforgettable gift he has given me.

This book is dedicated to my father who died on January 31, 1984. I did not have the chance to bid him farewell, but he shows me again and again that he is still here in those moments I feel sad.

We are only on earth to love each other and to do good. If we do not understand this, we have to return once, twice, three times, as often as necessary until we have finally found out what our task, our purpose is and fulfil it. So let us begin now! Today!

Preface

I spent a long time wondering if I should really write this book. Because everything a person cannot see with his own eyes or feel it himself, is often regarded as crazy. But thoughts do exist and we certainly cannot see them either! Looking back on occurrences of the past years: September 11, 2001, earthquakes, heavy floods, or the war against Afghanistan and Iraq has given me the courage and strength to write about things which may help many other people to become aware of God again and his helpers, the angels, and to believe in the fact that lost loved ones are not dead.

Never before in history were nations so split when it came to the decision of beginning war against Iraq or not. I too, was more than confused; I felt paralysed when war started without a UN mandate. I prayed for weeks that all involved would give in, but my hopes and those of many others were shattered with the beginning of the war on March 20, 2003. Every day I saw innocent children, women and men dying on TV. I saw the pain of mothers in the USA, England and among other allies, and the people in Iraq as they found out that they had lost their loved ones, their children – and for them they had only wanted the best.

The politicians, they too, only wanted the best. But how can it possibly be the best, if it brings so much pain to so many people? President Bush and Saddam wage war in the name of God! But God is not war at all; God is love, peace and forgiveness! There is always a solution for everything, including keeping peace. But how and when are politicians prepared to find a solution? First of all they see their own interests and then embellish them until they see no other possibility left than to start a war. People demonstrate for peace, but they are simply ignored. Governments follow their own interests without consideration for others. And we, the people, are the ones affected, we have to see it all going on, helpless and powerless.

What kind of wars are they, where old men send young women and men to war, who still have their life in front of them? Shouldn’t commanding politicians be in the front line of a war? No, the politicians hide away and are far away and safe from any enemy attacks. Look at Saddam or Osama bin Laden. Their people are dying, but they are in good health. Is this what we really want?

On December 26, 2004, the heavy seaquake in Asia took more than 250 000 lives and touched our hearts deeply. We mourn together with all nations who have lost people they love and ask God to take the dead souls to himself. Great pain moved us to tears, even those people who hardly ever show emotions, showed their feelings. This time nature was the terrorist or rather the arm of God and we all had to watch a paradise turning into a heap of rubble, but still everyone asked again: “Where was God? Why did he let it happen?” First I didn’t want to respond, but it hurts me when people doubt God and his goodness. God loves us! And all people we lost these days are now in paradise - in his paradise! He is our kind and gracious God, never would he punish a small child, simply because it has done nothing wrong. He especially loves children; they are now with him and are well. They are better off than we are; we still have to suffer through a valley full of tears, what we call earth. Our life is a never-ending struggle to survive.

Now I would like to give you an honest account of the experiences I had in Thailand a few years ago. I also write guidebooks and intended to write one about that paradise. I spent a few vacations there and every time I returned home, my heart was filled with disgust.

I shuddered already on the plane, facing the fact that there were only four women on board. All other passengers were men and not one single spare seat. After I had arrived in Thailand, I saw old men buying young women. I saw men renting a woman so that they would have a sex slave for the next three weeks. After I had written about AIDS, I decided not to write a guidebook about the country, although I had already invested quite a lot of energy into the book and many chapters had been completed. I could not arrange with my conscience to send people to this beautiful country, although it is beautiful. There is too much going wrong there. In Bangkok, women sit behind display windows with numbers, and are chosen and rented for sex by men. For me, it was terrible to see how humans are treated as if they were objects. I could see young Thai women in company with older men looking the other way with disgust, when they thought no-one was watching them. At that time, I thought to myself: how long is God going to watch this? Women are bought just like we buy bread at the bakery or meat at the butchery. Has God endured and seen enough? Did he have to send us this misery as well, to enable us to see the misery of the Third World? Prostitution certainly cannot relieve misery; it can only make things worse.

Unfortunately the seaquake inferno hit innocent people, mostly children, old people, weak and poor people. This catastrophe has probably given rise to many thoughts, but in its wake some miracles happened too. A man managed to survive a week in the ocean, clinging to a branch. A small child drifted back to the shore and was found after several days. Another small child was found sitting on the road, the rest of the family was dead. One mother had to decide which one of her children she should rescue. She had to let go of one child, and found it afterwards only a few feet away. All were saved.

The Bible says in the Book of Job 12:15: If he holds back the waters, then they dry up; if he releases them, they destroy the land.

Does “they” mean the floods and earthquakes? I have thought about this statement a lot.

We exploit our earth out of financial reasons only, without being aware of the consequences. The cause for most floods can be found in the straightening of rivers and continuous wood clearing. When are we going to wake up? Most hurricanes and storms are due to the heating up of earth’s atmosphere. At world Climate Conferences the mighty ones do not feel addressed. Having their own interests in mind they refuse to protect our Earth, people, animals and nature. If the climate on earth continues to heat up, the sea-level will rise and a lot of paradises will be destroyed due to sea floods.

The terrible flood in Asia brought people together again. We opened up our hearts to those needing our help. We helped each other. The world’s largest humanitarian relief action began after this tragedy. More than forty nations took part in it.

God has found joy again due to us caring for others and helping them. May he give strength to all people helping in Asia, so that they are able to endure, what they have to face day by day. The things they have to do cannot be expressed in words.

I would like to tell you what happened to me, I have no idea what it means. I felt pain as I saw the misery in Asia. My first reaction was to pick up my pendant of the Holy Mother, holding it in my hands I prayed to her. I asked her to take those who lost their lives in the flood to her and to comfort their relatives. After my prayer the telephone rang and I answered. I could hear a lot of people speaking. I could tell by the sound of their voices that they were Asian people. I tried speaking English to them, but no-one took any notice of me. They didn’t seem to be unhappy, they were talking cheerfully. I didn’t dare to hang up, because I thought there must be a reason for the call. Although I didn’t hear anyone hanging up, the conversation ended after a few minutes. I was surprised, especially because I had just received a new telephone number a few days ago and nobody knew the new number yet, including me. I have a caller ID, but there was no number on the display. How can this be explained?

Behind one dead person there are about one hundred people or more who have to manage the pain of losing a loved one. These people are mothers, fathers, women, men, friends, neighbours and colleagues. That is why I would like to tell you what I experienced and many other people too, after the death of a loved one. Perhaps it will ease some of the enormous pain that gives us the feeling we cannot carry on in life. And if we become more sensitive and look out for signs, instead of considering things as mere chance, a lot more people would be able to contact the ones they lost due to death. They are actually waiting for us to do so!

They are waiting for us and will be there for us on the day we die. I hope and pray that God and my angels give me the ability and strength to write this book in their name in a comprehensible manner and to pass it on to you. Everything that cannot be seen, felt or touched is difficult to pass on. I do hope that I find the right words.

What kind of person am I?

Someone comes along and tells you in a book that angels and the souls of lost loved ones are right among us, but who is the person behind the book? My guardian angel appeared to me on August 28, 2002 for the second time, and I must say that it was one of the best moments in my life. This is the reason I wish and must pass on my experiences to you. Now I knew that everything I believe and have experienced is true. God does exist, the dead do rise again, there are angels and life is eternal! I am a person like everyone else; I am neither better nor worse than you are who are reading this book. I am a person with feelings and emotions, and most of all I don’t believe everything I am told. I am a very realistic person.

I was only six and my brother three years old, when my parents had a divorce. We were divided “fairly”. My brother was allowed to live with my father in France, and I lived in Germany with my mother. Living close to the French border we could see each other quite often, but when we met we would fight each other. My brother would say “your mother” and I would say “your father”. I never saw us as one family, and a feeling of “we” or “us” never existed. My father tried to win my love, but I just could or would not give him my love. He had left our good mother and destroyed our family with his unfaithfulness, so he was the bad one for me. I held him responsible for the miserable state of our family, and I would not let him find the way to my heart. He wanted us back and didn’t pay child support, so my mother had to work every day to provide for us. My brother was brought up by a nanny. As an independent entrepreneur my father was away from home most of the time, and often enough he didn’t send my brother to school, but took him to work instead. The older I grew, the less I understood that. My father, however, thought it was best for my brother, so he would learn to run the business that he would have to take over some day.

My grandparents were upset about the fact that my mother had to work every day and I was a latchkey-child. They were willing to take care of me and offered me to stay with them from Mondays to Fridays, and to spend the weekends with my mother. It was a hard decision for me and I felt sorry for myself. It meant no father, no brother and only spending the weekends with my mother. I shed many tears. I was told it would do me no good having to provide for myself all day, and how important it is for children to eat a warm meal regularly. Finally, those facts and conversations we had, convinced me.

My grandparents, whom I both loved deeply, were happy that I needed them and they had found a new responsibility. They both influenced my new life. They were very religious and I led a different, Christian life from then on. Every day began with a prayer to God and the Holy Mother Mary. My grandmother went to mass every day, and I would accompany her as often as I could without moaning. Now my life was filled with God, and my grandparents raised me to do well and not to hurt other people. They often said that the world could be changed for the better, entirely by prayer. Even today, I can recall my grandmother saying: “If anyone hits you on the right cheek, offer him the other as well.” Being her favourite grandchild, she wanted me to become a nun one day.

Then my parents hatched a plot behind my back. From now on I was to attend a secondary high school, a French convent school, which changed my attitude towards religion completely. After we had gone through all formalities of the school, I had to bid my parents farewell and begin a new life in France. The last days before I went to the school were terrible, I cried again and again. If I had known what awaited me at the school, I surely would have run away. I never imagined there could be such inhuman people under the guise of a convent school. A place, where one expects to find love, strength and sympathy, was full of hate and resentment. The time I spent there was the worst time of my life. There I had to grow up without any love and sympathy. That institution of God probably separated me from my deep faith in God and the church for many years to come. The parcel, which my grandmother had packed with love to help me through the first days, was taken away. They divided the contents between them. Surely, there is nothing wrong with sharing things, but the parcel meant more to me, it reminded me of my grandmother.

I was shown to my room, a dormitory divided by curtains. I had to share the dormitory with 20 students and a night sister. At 9 pm it was bedtime and lights out. The night sister made sure everything stayed quiet and in order. The first night I cried myself to sleep. At 5:30 am, the cruel whistle of the nun woke us up, worse than any alarm clock. We had to wash in the dormitory, with only eight sinks for all of us, and make our beds. The nun whistled again at 6 am and we had to be ready for breakfast by then. Someone showed me my seat in the dining room. There was a drawer in front of me containing cutlery and a napkin. I took out the cutlery and napkin and was going to put them on the table, but the nun shook her head and told me to put it back. That is weird, I thought. Then the whistle was blown again and all students opened their drawer and placed the things on the table. Coffee, milk, white bread and jam already stood on the table. We drank “Café au lait” out of big cups, the way French people do. On this first morning I didn’t have much appetite, and I jumped when the nun whistled, reminding us that breakfast was finished. Everyone had to stop eating, if they had finished or not. Is that how Christians should act, throwing away food that had not been eaten, giving it to the pigs? After breakfast, we all went to mass and school started at 8 am. It was the same procedure at lunchtime and in the evenings. It was like a prison to me. I tried to talk about my feelings with one of the girls, but she whispered: “Be quiet, otherwise we get points!” “What do you mean, we get points?” “I’ll explain it to you in our break”, she answered, looking rather nervous. When I was called to the Mother Superior, I had tears in my eyes. She handed me a uniform, for me to wear at school and on our outings. Her gaze was evil and her voice cold as she told me: “I am the Mother Superior and you must address me Bonn Mére!” Translated it means “good mother”. This woman had nothing motherly or good about her. I secretly asked myself, if I would ever be able to address that woman at all. I avoided her every day, so that I didn’t have to address her. My mother or Mother Mary is my mother I thought stubbornly, but not this dissatisfied, sullen woman. Each day was a sad day, because laughter could not be heard at this school. We were educated in a strict manner and had to obey. Later I found out what points meant. If a student had 10 points, she was not allowed to go home for the weekend. I did my best not to get points, but I grew quieter and sadder over the months. On outings the nuns cut us off from the boys who followed our group, and the boys didn’t stand a chance of speaking a single word to us. Our schoolyard was surrounded by high walls with broken glass on top and wire netting. There was no possibility for the provincial Casanovas to come into contact with the girls.

However, I must also mention that one of the nuns was special. She had a warm and hearty aura. I always thought she was from a completely different world, but again and again I noticed the other nuns behaving in a hostile manner towards her. Even as a child I had a good sense of justice, and I started a special friendship with her. She gave some of the girl’s piano lessons, if required, and I also took piano lessons just to be near her. These were the only hours I felt comfortable. I shared my misery with her and told her I had noticed that the other nuns didn’t seem to love her very much. She even tried to protect them, when answering: “God will forgive them; they too, are only people like you and me. Even though they serve God and fulfil his commandments, they have their strengths and failings just like everyone else in this world.”

My time at the convent school came to an abrupt end due to a sad incident. My grandfather died and my grandmother couldn’t get over the loss of her husband, and she wanted me to live with her. She also knew that I was very unhappy and tried to help me. When I told my father about a girl who seemed more like a boy to me, and that she was always trying to kiss me, he said: “That’s enough, I’m not spending my hard earned money for you to be messed up there!” Several years later I was to learn that there is lesbian love, and I understood why my father had reacted so quickly. At the school, they regretted my departure; suddenly I was supposed to have been a good student who could subordinate herself very well. My favourite nun had to leave the school; she was expecting a baby from the local vicar. In my childish mind I told my father all about it and said: “Just let them marry and they will become friendlier and more human.” But he was shocked, and sadly said that it was like Sodom and Gomorrah behind the walls of the monastery.

My life instantly changed and the joy of life came back to me. I attended a state school again, and in my class a nun, too, was the teacher. Young readers might find it hard to believe that in the sixties, students were still hit by teachers, for example, for having dirty fingernails or forgetting something or because a bad mark had not been signed by parents. Stefanie, the nun, did like me due to the parcels I brought along for the nuns and the ministers, packed with love from my grandmother, but I was still among those chosen to be punished with a stick. If I talked too much during lessons, I had to stand in a corner with my face against the wall. Sometimes there were students standing in every corner of the room.

I am only telling you all this to show you how delicate and frail the human soul is, and the impact cold and unlovable surroundings will have on it, leading to a faithful person beginning to doubt religion and love. My grandmother could hardly believe I had changed in such a manner, I now always moaned when we went to church together. “Child, what have they done to you, you are not the same person.” She was right.

Is there life after death?

Today, I definitely say: “Yes there is!” I remember a holiday I spent with my father. We discussed whether there is life after death or not. Even now I can recall the place where our discussion took place. I still remember it as if had just been a few days ago. My father thought there must be something after death. I said: “That is what I once thought, that there must be something after death, but times have changed. When people die it is like sleeping for ever and it doesn’t hurt.” I told him that was the reason we didn’t have to fear death. But he didn’t share my opinion, and said: “What about our mind and soul? Shall everything we have done, our work, our love, been for nothing?” I always answered with a clear no, although he did recite the bible. This discussion took place thirty years ago. I was very young and inexperienced at the time.

Since then, everything I have experienced due to the loss of someone I loved, and the books I read, justifies the claim that there is life after death. It has been noticed that the body of dead people is lighter after death, they were weighed shortly before they died and after death. Does this mean our soul, or our soul and mind, left our body? Why did the body become lighter?

Because I couldn’t accompany my father while he was dying, I decided I would be there should anyone among my family or friends need someone to help them through their last hours. When my mother’s partner, who had been with her for many years, was sent to hospital, I could finally pay back. At that time, I was actually working in that hospital and I spent every free minute visiting him and other ill people. I noticed I could actually smell death there. Every time I came to the ward I thought it smelt like death, and indeed the sister would tell me someone had just died. I tried to carry out the wishes of the old men and they were so grateful. One old man told me he would give everything just for a bottle of beer. I put my coat on and fetched him a bottle. Never before have I seen anyone radiating with joy after his wish was fulfilled, and nobody could tell if it would be his last beer, because he was very ill and the doctors had already given him up. A day before my mother’s partner died I could see an extreme change going on with him. He didn’t seem to be in our world any longer. I heard him speaking again and again to people who had died years ago, while I sat next to him. He talked to his dead mother, his father and brothers and sisters. I carefully tried to prepare my mother for his near death; he would probably die the same day. She didn’t believe me and asked me how could I know? I explained to her that some dying people are welcomed by lost loved ones before they die. The doomed one is already in the spiritual realm of the dead, even though his body still shows functions. That was the reason he mentioned names of dead people, his spirit was already connected to those on the other side.

Some doctors talk of Endorphins, which are found in the brain and have pain-relieving properties similar to morphine. Endorphins are supposed to be released in the process of dying. People, who explore death, see these things as I do. People who had a near-death experience were also received and welcomed by their relatives in the process of dying. We never die alone; we are always accompanied by helpers or angels, because they always await us. No soul is forgotten, even if it did not live a life in the sense of God. But that soul will have to return to learn to become a better soul. God will send this incomplete soul many tests.

But now, I am one hundred percent convinced that there is life after death. The cause for my change of mind lies in my father or rather his early death. Everything that happened afterwards leads me to the conclusion that there must be life after death. To make it easier for you to understand everything, I will have to tell you a lot of private things.