Postscript: A Christmas Story

Tunnel of Light
I found myself trav­el­ing from one des­ti­na­tion to anoth­er.

My beau­ti­ful friends! This is Broth­er Thomas, your guide from the Sev­enth Ray. Death, or the tran­si­tion of our Souls from a phys­i­cal body to full non-phys­i­cal exis­tence, is some­thing we have all done count­less times. We are no stranger to death – yet each pass­ing is mem­o­rable and some­thing to cher­ish. Today, I want to share an ancient mem­o­ry with you in the form of a Christ­mas sto­ry. I hope you enjoy it.


Hel­lo Child, do you know where you are?” 

I was look­ing into the face of this most beautiful…man, woman, child — I can­not say exact­ly who or what it was because it was all these things. It was glo­ri­ous, lov­ing, and warm.    I feel its love.  I can tell this per­son any­thing.

You can call me ‘The Warmth,’ if you want to,” it said.

Yes, ‘Warmth,’ okay, I said.”

I can’t real­ly remem­ber it all.  Right now, it all seems like a dream.  A very real dream — but as real as right here and now!

That’s right child,” the Warmth said, “We know.  We’ve had the “some­thing” hap­pen to us too.”

It’s all a jum­ble. I remem­ber there was this big flash! Well, first there was dark­ness and then the flash!  I was sick — that can’t be, just look at me — and I was old, but there’s no time is there? Yes, I was sick, and I was old, and then things went dark. Then, there was this flash of blind­ing glo­ri­ous white light. It was every­where and blind­ing. I’m remem­ber­ing,” I said.

And do you remem­ber the music?” the Warmth asked. 

Yes… a big tun­nel-like por­tal opened up. And there was music — like you have nev­er heard! It was glo­ri­ous and won­drous and fear­some and awe­some and total­ly beyond any­thing I’ve ever seen or heard — I don’t know if any­one has ever heard or seen this before. 

Yes, Child, we have.” the Warmth replied.

And I was trav­el­ing very fast.  I don’t know how fast — it’s hard to say.  And then I felt myself slow down and sort of hang and then it was like I was slow­ly descend­ing — and then it all fad­ed to a place — like a big meet­ing hall where I was meet­ing with these peo­ple — and now I’m not exact­ly sure of who they all were — but at that moment I knew every one of them and loved so well and they loved me back. It was peo­ple I had spent time with — there’s that word time again.”

Yes,” the Warmth replied. “Who did you see?”

One was like a moth­er, and anoth­er a grand­moth­er, and a father, and a grand­dad, and old friends — they were every­where, and they wel­comed me and hugged me and told me that they had been watch­ing over me.  It was like we had these crazy intense feel­ings for one anoth­er – but now, all of that seems more like a dream. I must sound insane, but it was very real.” I said.

Child,” the Warmth said, “You don’t sound crazy at all.  You did see those peo­ple and you’ll see them again.”

I will?” I said in puz­zled voice? 

Yes,” the Warmth said and then asked, “Do you know who you are and where you are?”

Yes, it’s like I real­ly do — but no, not real­ly,” I said. 

I thought I was some­one named Thomas…but that doesn’t seem right…”

Child,” the Warmth said, “You were Thomas, but soon you will be giv­en a new and more glo­ri­ous name.  As for where you are, you are HOME.”

I looked around and saw the most won­der­ful place – full of light, flow­ers, and trees of every kind. I could see a beau­ti­ful and crys­tal sea in the dis­tance.  I loved that sea and want­ed so much to walk on that shore. And I saw glo­ri­ous moun­tains, that stretched into the heav­ens.  And the air was pure and clean and felt like you were breath­ing the very Spir­it of Good­ness! And there was a riv­er and a city.

I noticed you were espe­cial­ly look­ing at the sea,” the Warmth said. “I’ve pre­pared you a place right on the shore.  It’s very beau­ti­ful and made just for you.”

Sud­den­ly, through the fog of for­got­ten mem­o­ries, I knew — as clear­ly as I’ve ever known any­thing — who I was talk­ing to and I knew that this Thomas, that I had fad­ed mem­o­ries about, was not the least bit wor­thy of any of this.

I fell to my knees and my head fell for­ward of its own. “Warmth!” I cried, “I’m sor­ry, I don’t think I belong here. I’m not wor­thy.”

Then the Warmth extend­ed its hand and touched me on my brow. And just like that — every pain and sor­row, every sad mem­o­ry that I was car­ry­ing and couldn’t quite recall was gone. Every tear was gone from my eyes. It all still seemed like a dream, but I my mem­o­ry was restored — but this time with no judg­ment on my part.  There was only accep­tance of who I was, what I had done, and why I was here.  My emo­tions were still in place.  I could feel intense­ly. But they were all at a per­fect set point and now guid­ed by an inner wis­dom I had nev­er had.

Thomas,” the Warmth said, “You are here because I first showed up on your plan­et long ago.  I took the form of a man because I loved every sin­gle thing about your earth.  I loved the peo­ple who had already lived and died, the peo­ple who were there and the peo­ple who were to come.  I loved the ani­mals, the plants, the oceans, and the sky above.  I loved the val­leys, the moun­tains, and the seas. I love the things that are so small that you could not see them — even with the tools that your kind built.  I loved the beings that watched over you when you were unaware.  I love it all.”

The Warmth con­tin­ued. “The rea­son you are here is that after I showed up, some of those peo­ple began show­ing up as well.  They con­tin­ued to heal the sick, to give hope to the poor and down­trod­den.  To feed the hun­gry and to preach about the light. In an unbro­ken chain over the days, weeks, cen­turies, and mil­len­nia — Peo­ple showed up.  Your very par­ents, as imper­fect as they were, showed up — adopt­ed you, raised you, fed you, and taught you.  And, here you are!”

And Thomas,” the Warmth said, “There are oth­ers who are here already and more that will soon be here because You showed up.  The men you gave mon­ey to as you stopped at the light and quick­ly hand­ed it out the win­dow — didn’t change overnight — but com­bined with oth­ers, it moved them in a pos­i­tive direc­tion and got the help they need­ed to move for­ward so that I could reach them. Your chil­dren, the stu­dents you taught, the class­es you held for the lit­tle ones at church, on and on — all helped move peo­ple heav­en­ward, so I could reach them and bring them to glo­ry.”

But Warmth,” I asked, “I wasn’t always kind. I could be pet­ty and unlov­ing.  I was often caught in my own fears and dra­ma.” 

I know,” the Warmth said.  Then He con­tin­ued. “My grace is suf­fi­cient for you.  Yes, you could be as you described — but I would send some­one else who had shown up to meet and min­is­ter with those peo­ple you had hurt, even as I sent you many times to min­is­ter to those who had been hurt by their fam­i­ly and friends.  Thomas, I will not stop until every per­son, and all of cre­ation, is glo­ri­fied once more.”

And for empha­sis he added, “I am Divine Love, and I have willed it.”

Thank you, Warmth.” I said.  “Thank you for Lov­ing me, for com­ing to earth to save me, for guid­ing me, extend­ing your grace to me and now glo­ri­fy­ing me!”  I said this with emo­tions that were as pure, and holy, and heart­felt, and full of under­stand­ing of so many things I had nev­er known before.

Warmth, what shall I call this new day you have brought me to?” I asked in utter amaze­ment.

Child, we could call it many things, but I have a favorite one that I shall use just for you. Let’s call it Christ­mas.  And as you watch over those you love who have not yet crossed over, remind them of the ‘Future Christ­mas that is Yet to be.’ Now let’s walk to the sea­side.  I have a house to show you that you are going to love!”

Attri­bu­tions

Tun­nel Pic­ture used by per­mis­sion of Cre­ative Com­mons

2 thoughts on “Postscript: A Christmas Story”

Leave a Comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.