Here's another one of our new Communion Letters. "Christy" writes: For a long time I dismissed a childhood story I wrote and illustrated containing descriptions of another world and images of big-eyed beings, because my sister told me my mom had been reading your books at that time, and the cover of your book somehow led to my creative drawings. I wrote the book when I was in the 5th grade in 1985, but then I realized while reading Communion that it was not published until 1987-88. It was like, "I knew it...!"
The next day I took my little dachshund for a walk in the cemetery. I had never really walked through there, and the trees were beautiful. I was standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change when this older lady came around the corner across the street from me with this peculiar walk. She was racing even though she was also hobbling, and had a look of what I can only describe as pure joy. The light turned to 'walk' and we both began to cross the street, coming towards each other. She moved with incredible glee and speed.
When I got home, I sat down to finish reading Secret School. I was nearing the end of the book and was on the chapter describing your efforts to reconnect with your future self the chapter on prophecy. I quickly finished every word of that book and put it down thinking, "What does that mean"
I could sense the woman I had seen outside the cemetery. I thought maybe she was a message of some sort. I had had terrible back pain for days, so I lay on the floor trying to figure out what motion could relieve my pain. Then my mind went back to how easily I used to dance, years before. I thought, "I'm being too hard on myselflive in the moment, start where you are," so I began to move, then I grabbed hold of the furniture with both hands and began to kick my back legs out behind me, one at a time. I could see her face in front of me, as if she knew just what I was doing. She was beautiful, and her face was saying, "See" And I knew I was making my life miserable. I was crippling myself. I have always danced, and I wanted to keep on dancing.
I know that what she gave me was a gift. Or was it a coincidence Seeing her face in my mind, I began to cry. I wanted to tell her "thank you" and than I wanted to tell you, for what ever it's worth, to believe. Belief is knowing that there is a way to go even when it's not visibleit is an underlying knowing. Please remember to believe.
NOTE: This Insight, previously published on our old site, will have any links removed.