When I was pregnant with our middle child, and first daughter Rhema, the Lord told me many times she would be a seer into the spirit realm. I prayed so many prayers, and still do as I lay her down to sleep for her eyes to be protected, her heart to be pure towards Him… despite what she see’s .
I failed her a few days ago. I let my guard down and my curiosity take control. I’ve since asked for her forgiveness and learned much more about my fiery middle child. The one that sees like her Momma does. It’s a gift I have given her, but a gift that I need to teach her how to use. How to unwrap and handle. Handle as to not take over her life and mind.
My likeness for historic homes was born as soon as I was. 7 pounds 11 ounces, I was born to love the old. There is nothing that makes me more happy than passing an old farm house on a country road. There’s something about what was that lifts my spirit into a high that I cannot explain.
On a country road I was not accustomed to driving on , I passed a beauty that took my breath away. House still in tact, the windows spoke to my soul as I passed by. Turn around Rachel, the baby is asleep. You can go up the driveway and get a peek.
So that I did. I gave into my temptation of peeking and whisked up the driveway with my ugly mini van. With nothing but wooden areas surrounding us I stepped out of the van to gaze upon the landscape of this abandoned home. A deep sadness crept into my soul as I gazed upon the busted windows, and chipping siding. What a gorgeous home this could be. What a gorgeous home this was in years past. I imagined the family rocking in homemade rocking chairs on the front porch. Biscuits being served and laughter erupting as they spoke of family tales.
That’s my problem. I look at something and see what once was, what could be. I don’t see things as they are in raw form, right now.
Rounding the corner to get a good look at the front door, with the children asleep in the van ( within my view , doors locked, keys in my hand ) I saw the gorgeous front porch. The immaculate design of the crown molding surrounding the front door, and all around the porch. I took a deep breath and longed to live there. To make it mine.
To restore it’s beauty and respect the men that had built it hundreds of years ago, in hopes of it being a life long beauty. A strong standing home for years to come.
It wasn’t long after I rounded the corner that I heard someone shout from my left…..
With no homes surrounding me, I ignored the sound. Surely I was hearing things.
I turned around to find a woman in her 30’s waving at me. She appeared out of no where, as I had just glanced that way five seconds before.
” Ma’am, you need to leave. We have so many problems with people stealing things from this house. If you want to know more about the house you should contact my Grandfather, He lives down this road here.”
Pointing to the next driveway, she smiled.
” I’m sorry , I just was captivated by the beauty of the home. I had to stop.”
I glanced at the home once more, turned back around to find no one.
She was gone. No sound but the ruffle of the wind in the trees.
Eyes wide, I got back into the drivers seat of my van. I looked behind me to find Rhema awake. Her face white as a piece of print paper, I got out of my seat and climbed back to where her seat was buckled.
” Honey, I didn’t know you were awake. Whats wrong? Why Do you look so scared?”
” Because I know what happened in that house. A man named John died in there, and I saw him Momma. Then I saw Angels all around the house. Like 88 of them.”
Speechless for a moment, I wanted to ” phone a friend “. How do I handle this situation? How do I explain to my FOUR year old what she has just seen and known so deeply?
It was an excellent opportunity to explain to Rhema about how her gifting worked. How she saw what Mommy see’s very often, and how she can learn to let it not upset her. I only questioned her a few times about what she saw, as I was very gentle and cautious about the whole thing. She expressed a few more things she felt the Lord had revealed to her. I was quiet. I listened. I understood how she felt and I knew she was afraid.
At the end of her explaining what she saw I had the opportunity to explain to her about spiritual gifts, all the while the other two children were asleep. Just me and Rhema Zoae, hashing out what it is like to see what is not of this earth from time to time.
I learned to be much more cautious about the environments I take her into. She is sensitive, just like me. She is learning to take what she sees and learn from it. Grow, and stretch her spiritual muscles, just like me. I am deeply grateful that I have a daughter like her, but in the same aspect I feel for her.
What I have seen has scared me in ways I cannot express, but I can say that I have grown much closer to my Heavenly Father in a way of comfort and safety. He has become my refuge and strength when I thought I couldn’t go on.
What a privilege I have in raising a daughter that see’s beyond what I see. Isn’t that what I have prayed for? For our sweet children to teach us, grow us and stretch us into the women and men God wants us to be?
We simply cannot put limits on how God teaches us and molds us into who He would have us be. My four year old is teaching me to see. The good, and I’ve seen the bad.
Ultimately He is good. He desires us to see the good. Often it takes a while to appreciate the good in all things. I pray it doesn’t take me long.
I believe it was an Angel speaking to me that day, telling me to get off of the property before Rhema saw more. I’m learning to be cautious to the environment I place her in. She’s a gift, as all of our children are.