Hi everyone,

Sorry I've been away for so long. Moved all of our stuff across the country--which took weeks and aint easy when you aren't young anymore !
Thought I'd share this retrieval I recently participated in. Happy to be reading and posting here again.

Much love,

Ginny




After completing my preparatory process and floating for a bit in the 3D Blackness, I sent out my desire to assist in a retrieval. Within a second I was moving quickly into another kind of blackness that appeared in my mind’s eye to be flat, lacking in depth or any kind of vibrancy. I then opened up a little and knew I was in Focus 23. I could feel the presence of a Helper nearby and I usually get some information about them, but an urgent need to proceed with the retrieval was overwhelming.

I was then looking at a little girl standing with her back to me in a circle of light. She appeared to be around four to five years old. With long red braids and a knee-length dress that suggested the turn of the twentieth century, she was oblivious to my arrival. She had her arms extended out in front of her and I could feel how terrified she was. She was pleading, crying. Someone was suppose to pick her up, take her away. She couldn’t see anything, for some reason, which only added to her terror.

I moved toward her a little in hopes of getting her attention and got an instant order to not do that. I froze as her anxiety suddenly escalated, making her arms shake. Her face was very pale, covered with freckles, dirt and tears. She couldn't stop crying. I don’t think she was aware of me behind her, but pushing the envelope could cause more problems, so I backed away. It came to me that anyone else other than her mother coming into her awareness would make her clam up and unreachable again. 

What followed next happened so quickly all I could do was just ‘go with the flow’. The name, Abbigail Ganther, came through. I was suddenly holding blank, white paper and a box of crayons and was instructed to approach her with a request for her to use them. I wondered why this kind of approach wouldn’t cause her fear as well, but I followed the direction. As I then backed away I was suddenly aware of smoke. In her world here, her home was on fire. Black smoke everywhere, getting thicker, hotter. She had been standing in her bedroom doorway on the second floor, waiting for her mother. When I was then handed a drawing she completed, a drawing of a lopsided house with big daisies, tufts of grass and puffy clouds, I magically whipped something together with the paper and crayons and showed it to her. I can’t remember what it was I drew (or was instructed to draw), but it got her mind away from the crisis she had known, just enough for her to become aware of me. She didn’t like what I had done…not one bit!

I was then several feet away from Abbigail as I watched a woman, in what appeared to be a flowing white gown (her mother?) swoop down between us. Or maybe what I actually saw was not a gown but the smoke being disturbed, swirling around her as she descended. In any case, it was an elegant entrance. She said something to Abbigail, wrapped her arms around her and I wondered if I could tag along as I watched them move up and away. I followed for a short time but got the feeling they wanted privacy, so I called it a day and returned to waking consciousness.

 



 

Hi Vee,
I can feel from you so much warmth and love--the job requirements for working with Helpers in retrievals . Just the thought of a child stuck in a continuous loop of fear is a good motivater for me, and there are always those who because of mental illness end up in scary situations that I try to help with.
Anything new going on with the Jonestown situation you posted earlier?

Much love,

Ginny

Hi Supermodel,
Being of service to others in the afterlife was something I became interested in upon reading Bob Monroe's third book, Ultimate Journey. But learning how to do it was slow and frustrating, til Bruce started publishing his work on Focused Attention . Are you feeling a pull toward perhaps helping in the afterlife?

Much love,

Ginny