Author’s Note

There are moments when the veil between worlds thins—so subtly that you might miss it if you aren’t listening with your heart. Grief taught me how to listen. Love taught me how to recognize the voice that answers back.

Since my son’s passing, Spirit has continued to speak in light, in water, in rhythm, and in silence. The miracles come softly—sometimes as a whisper, sometimes as a glow that shouldn’t be there, sometimes as the ocean itself, calling my name.

What follows is not a tale to be analyzed, but an experience to be felt. It is a reminder that love never leaves, that consciousness does not end, and that the soul will always find a way to be known.

May these words awaken the part of you that remembers what your spirit has always known: that connection is eternal, and the language of miracles is written everywhere, for those who have learned to see.

Miracles continuing

Time is a strange companion, which can, at times, sit heavily on my chest. I realize it has been ten years since my dear son left this world – and yet the miracles continue.  The frequency with which they occur has almost made them feel commonplace. They arrive quietly, woven into the fabric of ordinary days until suddenly, the air feels charged and I remember-what is happening before me cannot be explained by the laws of physics.  Perhaps quantum theories could try to reach for it, but in truth, I know: these are spiritual moments. Sacred moments.  Gifts. And so, I feel compelled to share these recent experiences with you.

These ten years have been my apprenticeship with Spirit, a slow unfolding of sight and sensitivity.  I’ve studied with teachers who help others awaken to psychic gifts, gathering in circles where the veil between worlds feels thinner. I’ve come to recognize the difference between imagination and vision, between coincidence and communication. My training in psychology and my master’s degree in social work, with 25 years of experience specializing in the treatment of bipolar spectrum disorders, help me keep one foot in this world. But my heart has learned to step into the other.  This is not a causal point.  Because of my background, I know what psychosis looks like, and I understand how to differentiate between a mental health symptom and a genuine intuitive or spiritual experience.

And in these last few days, Spirit has spoken again, through signs too beautiful to ignore.

The Light That Blinked at Dawn

The first came one quiet morning.  

In our hallway is a sun tunnel, a simple device designed to channel daylight from the roof into your home.  Inside, solar panels absorb the sun’s energy during the day and produce a gentle glow at night.  This time of year, though, the darkness lasts too long; usually by dawn it is dark.

But that morning, when I stepped out of my room, the sun tunnel pulsed with light. It was blinking! Not glowing steadily. Not fading. Blinking – on, off, on, off – a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if someone on the other side were flicking a switch just for me.

I froze, standing there in awe, watching.  My breath caught in wonder. After several minutes, I suddenly thought, “I need a video!”  I went to get my camera, and when I returned, the light went still. Silent.  Ordinary.

No recording could change what I saw.  It doesn’t change the enormity of the moment.  It was a moment that needed no proof. In my heart, I heard the message clear as dawn itself, “Good Morning, Mom.” A beautiful way to start my day!

The Language of Lights

Not long after, another message shimmered into being.

In my office hangs a strand of tiny white lights—steady by design, never twinkling. Yet, one day in April 2025, they began to blink with their own mysterious pattern: long, short, short, short.   Three beats, over and over. Even after they have been unplugged, they continued a soft rhythm of 3 blinks pulsing like a heartbeat in the dark.  Physically impossible?  Maybe. But, quantumly or spiritually possible? Absolutely.

On this particular day, as I sat down to work, their pattern shifted.  Their usual rhythm vanished. For several seconds, they blinked wildly – seventeen times in a row, no rhythm at all—like laughter, like play. And then, as suddenly as it began, they settled back into their familiar April pattern, steady as a heartbeat.

These moments feel like a language between worlds, a language only Spirit knows, a code written in light.  Not just a random flicker, but a signal, a reassurance that there’s more to life than what we can measure.  A whisper across the veil, reminding me that love does not vanish with the body.  It transforms.

The Sea Lion’s Greeting

At week’s end, I traveled to the Oregon coast with my younger son.  We had a grand time exploring – long walks on the beach, scrambling over rocks, and discovering hidden tide pools.  We hiked deep into the woods, pausing in reverence before trees that stood like guardians,  centuries old.  The air smelled of salt and cedar, of something eternal.

On the second day, as we made our way back along the shore, the tide was unusual—technically low, but nearly as high as the highest tide I’d seen that month.  The ocean deepened quickly near our feet.  Just beyond the first wave, a couple of sea lions swam, playful and curious, looking directly at me.  

They played in the water, sleek bodies gliding in waves, eyes fixed on me as if in recognition.  As we walked, they followed us all the way to the base of a cliff face we needed to climb.  Just before we reached it, I thought to myself, “It’s like they’re saying, ‘hello’.”

And then, clear as a bell, in my mind I heard, “I am, Mom.”

It was him.  My son.  Speaking through fur and saltwater and Spirit, reaching me with a message more real than the tide beneath my feet.

The Thread of Miracles

These experiences are like beads on a string.  Individually, they are small moments.  Together, they form threads in a tapestry, woven by love across dimensions. A blinking light.  A playful string of bulbs.  Sea lions gazing with familiar eyes.  Small beads on a string that, when held together, form a necklace of miracles. They create a connection between this world and the next, between my son and me, between spirit and matter.

I no longer look for explanations.  I no longer try to force them into a purely scientific box.  Instead, I stand in gratitude and wonder.  These moments may be impossible in a laboratory, but they are undeniable in a life lived with open eyes and an open heart.

Ten years have passed, yet my son’s presence still finds me—in light, in water, in the spaces between worlds.  And so, the miracles continue.

I encourage all of you to share a serendipitous moment you have experienced in the comments or read other posts on the miracles I have shared. Blessings.

#miracle #miracles #spiritcommunication #spiritual #magic