I was a spiritually sensitive child, and I am today a spiritually sensitive adult.
My mother used to tell me a story about when I was a small child. My parents had rented a home that was once home to another family. There was a history of abuse in the family, and the story I remember my mother telling me was that the husband had gone to prison for hurting his wife and child. My bedroom door had locks (as in, more than one) on it, and my mother tells me I refused to sleep in it. Instead, I slept in the living room floor or in their bed, or anywhere but my room. My dad would come and pray for me every night before bed so that I didn't have nightmares, and my mom said one night he came to pray for me and when he ended his prayer, I said "Daddy? Who's the pretty lady in that chair?" He looked around, looking for a woman, and saw nothing. "I don't see any lady, where is she?" he said.
"She's over there, in the chair. She's there all the time, but she never told me her name. She's so pretty." I yawned and went to sleep.
My mother used to tell me a story about when I was a small child. My parents had rented a home that was once home to another family. There was a history of abuse in the family, and the story I remember my mother telling me was that the husband had gone to prison for hurting his wife and child. My bedroom door had locks (as in, more than one) on it, and my mother tells me I refused to sleep in it. Instead, I slept in the living room floor or in their bed, or anywhere but my room. My dad would come and pray for me every night before bed so that I didn't have nightmares, and my mom said one night he came to pray for me and when he ended his prayer, I said "Daddy? Who's the pretty lady in that chair?" He looked around, looking for a woman, and saw nothing. "I don't see any lady, where is she?" he said.
"She's over there, in the chair. She's there all the time, but she never told me her name. She's so pretty." I yawned and went to sleep.
