Thursday, March 17, 2011

Vocation and Spiritual Gifts

Over the last week I have been having vision about what my vocation and my gift of writing. It all started with Sunday service at mass. First I was in intense pain, and I was finding it hard concentrating on the homily. Suddenly i was whisked away into a cloud and I was no longer in church. I was on a cloud and an angel was telling about my gift from God. I thought I was hearing and seeing things.

The Angel called me by my birth name, not many here knew my birth name other than my partner and a few friends. I shook my head in disbelief and thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me.

After I wasn't believing this was an angel. They took me to my birth. It was hard to realize that this was in fact an angel of God.  I saw my birth, I saw my dad, my grandmother sitting by my mom. My grandmother was holding me in her arms and cuddling tight. I knew myself this was just something to confuse me.

I saw me sitting in a bookstore and signing books that were being bought my some young adults and some adults even. They were buying my book, my first book. I found this weird and didn't want to believe this was me.

On Monday night, we went to church at seven at night for the parish mission thing. I heard the angel's voice yet again. This time it was telling me to  re-write my Having a Little Faith story. I was finding it hard to write. It made me remember the last time I saw my paternal grandmother I was when I was sixteen. But telling the story I want to tell I'm not sure it will work out at age sixteen. I prefer to write stories with the main character is from 9-14 years old.

I continued to have another vision on Sunday night, Monday night, and Tuesday night. I also had confession on Tuesday night. I was ill on Wednesday night, so couldn't go. I was given a vision to write the same story I'd heard the angel telling me to write. I believe this was something I could do if I put my mind to it. I prayed today and I have started to re-write this story I believe God wants me to write. Here goes nothing.

Poem - I'm a Survivor

That moment when I heard the door closing behind with all my memories inside, my heart stopped beating. I can't remember how I made it t...