A Mother’s Love is Forever – Excerpt from “Shaman Stone Soup”

Shaman Stone Soup Cover-2017.indd“There are no accidents…there is only some purpose that we haven’t yet understood.” Deepak Chopra

I was cleaning up after a workshop that I had hosted. The sangria punch had been a hit, and I was putting the glasses in the sink when the phone rang.

I walked over to the phone, but I didn’t recognize the area code and let it ring. A minute later, the phone beeped with a voice message. It was my brother asking me to call him back. Since he seldom called me, much less at 10:15 p.m., I knew it would be bad news.

I dialed the number on the caller I.D. A woman answered. I asked to speak to my brother. A moment later he answered in a wavering voice that caused my heart to sink. “Mom’s been in an accident.” He paused as he gathered himself. “It was really bad…she didn’t make it.”

How do you comprehend news that doesn’t make sense? I had talked with my mother the day before, and she spoke of her plans when she retired in a few months. She recently had begun taking violin lessons and was looking forward to playing a duet with my son when we came home for Thanksgiving. She was taking acting classes and had performed in a play over the summer. When I mentioned I would be sending her the first draft of this book later that day, she squealed with delight and said she was looking forward to reading it. But now she was gone. I began to cry and after waiting a moment, my brother continued, “She was riding a bicycle when a car hit her. The officer at the scene said she was killed instantly.”

This was a bad dream! My mother was so healthy that everyone believed she would outlive us all. The summer before she had built a block retaining wall in her garden by hauling blocks in a wheelbarrow and stacking them herself. Her efforts were rewarded when her garden was selected to be in the town’s home garden tour.

Now all of our lives had been altered. With tears in my eyes, I told my brother I would be there the next day and hung up the phone.

I stood in the kitchen staring through the window into the night. Never had I felt so alone. I delayed walking up the stairs to tell my husband. Somehow by not repeating it, she was still alive. Finally I proceeded to our bedroom. I stood over him as he slept, tempted to let him sleep through the night, but I couldn’t keep it inside any longer. I tugged on his arm until he woke up.

He turned his head and looked at me, asking, “What’s wrong?”

“My mom died.”

“What!?”

“She was riding a bike and was hit by a car.”

I turned and walked toward the phone in my office to call my sister. She answered after a few rings.

“Sharon? Are you home?”

“Yeah, why? Is something wrong?”

I told her of mom’s passing. She began to wail and scream. I waited until she finally calmed down, telling her I would see her tomorrow.

My husband and I decided to drive through the night. We picked up our kids, who were each spending the night with a friend, packed our clothes, loaded the dogs and cat in the van, and started toward Michigan after midnight.

I sobbed continuously as we drove through the night. We stopped for two hours and slept in a parking lot—checking into a hotel would have wasted too much precious time. I needed to be with my family as soon as possible.

As we drove there was a tightness in my chest that was so intense I could barely breathe. I truly did not know that grief could cause such severe physical pain.

We arrived in the afternoon, in time to eat dinner with the immediate family at my brother’s home. Afterward, we felt compelled to visit our mother’s house and choose what she would wear for the funeral. On the way to her house, we passed the accident scene. My brother slowed down, asking if I wanted to see it. I felt my chest tighten even more, but said, “Yes.”

Fluorescent orange, spray-painted marks covered the road and adjacent grassy slope. Each one marked relevant evidence of the collision…a piece of a headlight here and a side-view mirror there. A circle painted around a gouge in the asphalt pavement indicated the point of impact. My brother explained the markings and finally pointed to the spot on the grassy slope where our mother had landed after being thrown from the impact. Orange letters indicated the position of her head, body and legs. How do you deal with something like this?

I crouched down and touched the grass. Anger burst forth and I thought, Why did you leave me, mom!?

Monday morning was a surreal dream of going to a funeral home to choose our mother’s casket and plan her funeral. I kept thinking I would wake up soon and that somehow, if we all held hands and clicked our heels, things would return to normal. But the nightmare continued.

Tuesday morning, I sat on the guest bed in my in-laws’ attic watching the sun filter through a window, wondering why I could feel my mother’s love surrounding me like an energetic blanket radiating to the center of my soul. Her presence offered a complete immersion of love and comfort. Yet this abundance of love was strange, because when my mother was alive, I would occasionally question if she loved me at all.

I thought to myself, Why do I know that my mother loves me now without a doubt when I wasn’t sure when she was alive?

A small voice came to me and whispered, “It’s a gift.”

I cried. It was a gift to feel my mother’s love so perfectly. It was an indescribable comfort.

After I showered and ate lunch with my husband, we went to my mother’s workplace to meet with the HR director at the state department where my mother had worked for 32 years. My sister met us there.

The HR director offered her sympathies and said that our mother’s passing had a huge impact on the entire department. The State of Michigan had just offered a retirement buyout the previous week, which our mother and many others had accepted. Most set their retirement date for the end of the year. However, the HR director said two people had come into her office that morning to change their dates and retire immediately—life was too short!

She then got to the business at hand. We were told that our mother’s accounts would be divided equally among her children, then the HR director mentioned that the pension would be given solely to my sister. Immediately I resented that my sister was given the entire pension, but I didn’t want to feel this way!

After the meeting, we were taken to our mother’s cubicle to clean it out. I was emotionally distant from my sister as we emptied the drawers. I kept battling the resentment that stabbed at me by repeatedly asking the Spirit to take this thought from me.

Suddenly my mother’s spirit descended over me. Her presence completely surrounded me and her vision became mine. Through her eyes, the whole world glowed with love while beams of light radiated from my sister. My mother’s memories filled my consciousness, and I could see my sister as the little girl, the teenager, and the young woman she had raised. My mother saw her as an innocent daughter, who would be taken care of with the pension she had inherited. I felt the comfort that it gave my mother and the love she had for my sister. Immediately all resentment left me. I knew my mother had given the pension out of love, and as I experienced that love, it became impossible for me to feel anything else.

Then my mother was gone.

I realized that my mother had sent me two beautiful gifts after her passing. First, she comforted me with the knowledge of her undying love, then she immersed her spirit with mine, and, for a brief moment, I saw my sister through her vision of all-encompassing love, which healed my heart.

Love is perfect and never dies. My mother reminded me of this basic truth. 

Message from the Spirit

Your mother’s love came when you needed it most. She thought only of her love for her children, family and friends. She highly regarded her life, accomplishments, and even things left undone.

Things left undone seem to be the hardest part of letting go…yet those were the lessons that did not need to be learned. Look at those as accomplishments.

Gas Station Dreams

Shaman Stone Soup Cover-2017.inddExcerpt from the book Shaman Stone Soup


“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” — Albert Einstein

One night in October, I had a dream that was so powerful there was no doubt in my mind that it had really happened.

In the dream, I floated into a scene of a man pumping gas. I knew he was a pastor who was having trouble making a difficult decision. My spirit descended into his car and “sat” in the passenger seat to wait for him to finish pumping gas. The pastor got in, started the car, and drove slowly through the parking lot. He paused before pulling into the street. At that moment he felt my presence, and although he couldn’t see me, he knew I was there. I apologized for the intrusion. In his thoughts, he said, “That’s okay. I was thinking about going for a drive.”

I knew he had changed his plans of going directly home, and instead, he decided to go for a long drive to ponder his difficult decision. I left him alone with his thoughts as he drove away.

When I woke up, I remembered the dream vividly and couldn’t forget it for weeks. I kept looking for this man in public—expecting to meet him.

But after a couple of months had passed and I hadn’t yet met the pastor, the dream was tucked into the back of my mind.

Then one night, I pulled up to my gym and noticed a Red Cross blood mobile in the parking lot. I decided I would give blood, although I had never voluntarily donated blood before.

I walked up to the table set up temporarily in the gym’s lobby. The young woman standing there asked if I had any health problems, and I said no. She asked if I was in good health and feeling well. I answered that I was feeling a little light headed, but she didn’t seem to hear me and began talking with someone else while she handed me a folder with a stack of forms that needed to be filled out.

After my name was called, I walked through the chilly night to the large RV that served as the blood mobile. A young woman greeted me and escorted me to a tiny room where she asked me questions, pricked my finger to take blood, and attached a finger monitor to check my blood pressure. At this point, there was a problem. It seemed my pulse rate and blood pressure were too high, which was very unusual since I normally have low blood pressure. She mentioned that I might be stressed about giving blood and thought answering additional questions on a computer in the room would give me time to calm down.

I finished the questions and was waiting for the woman to return when a man entered and explained he was the supervisor. I knew I wouldn’t be giving blood as soon as he sat down, but decided to let the conversation play out.

With a smile, he asked me how I was feeling. I answered that I felt fine. He said perhaps I was coming down with something and just didn’t know it yet—that sometimes an undetected infection can make the blood pressure spike as the body fights it.

I mentioned that I was feeling light headed, but felt that it was a reaction from an intense healing session I performed earlier in the day.

The supervisor was surprisingly knowledgeable about shamanic healing and pointed out that a healing session should have lowered my blood pressure. I agreed with him. He continued asking me questions about the healings that I performed, saying that it was wonderful work to offer healings and appreciated my efforts.

His spiritual demeanor captured my attention, and I asked him how he knew so much about healing. He answered that he was a pastor of a church in a distant city. Suddenly it dawned on me that he was the pastor from my dream! I began telling him, “Several months ago you had a tough decision to make.”

He nodded his head in agreement, and said a few months earlier he had to decide whether to stay at his church or become the new pastor at a church of a different denomination. His mind told him to stay with his current congregation, but he felt God was guiding him to leave. After much soul searching, he had decided to go to the new church.

When I described seeing him in my dream at the gas station and the interaction that had occurred, he remembered asking God for a sign and stated that he often went on long drives to think.   

I had been waiting to meet him and was blessed to do so. What a wonderful confirmation for the two of us.

I knew the elevated pulse rate was divine intervention, and after leaving the blood mobile, I went to work out at the gym. It felt great!


Message from the Spirit

We are all divine spirits, helping others on conscious and unconscious levels. The past, present and future exist simultaneously—all lives, all events have already occurred—leaving you with memories of illusions that you pluck from the recesses of your mind. You have reached enlightenment because you have never left it. So you have the ability to act as an angel, reaching out to others, offering miracles and love, now.


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The Gift of Schizophrenia

Shaman Stone Soup Cover-2017.inddExcerpt from the book Shaman Stone Soup

“When you have looked on what seemed terrifying, and seen it change to sights of loveliness and peace; when you have looked on scenes of violence and death, and watched them change to quiet views of gardens under open skies, with clear, life-giving water running happily beside them in dancing brooks that never waste away; who need persuade you to accept the gift of vision?” — A Course in Miracles

The medical community views schizophrenia as a condition that can be treated but not cured. Schizophrenics are considered to have a mental illness with symptoms such as hallucinations, paranoid or bizarre delusions, and dysfunction—which are subdued with antipsychotic medications.

However, I believe that schizophrenics are not suffering from an illness, but rather, are extremely receptive to contact from spirits, and when they cannot ward off imposing negative spirits who have no regard for the schizophrenics’ well being, they become overwhelmed, catatonic, anxious, depressed, and even suicidal with thoughts and visions that seem to be their own, but in reality, are instilled into their minds by outside forces.

With proper shamanic healing and training, which has been done successfully in indigenous tribes under the guidance of shamans, schizophrenics could learn to prevent the intrusion of loud, negative spirits, and allow only the loving spirits’ quiet voices to be heard. They have the gift to become great healers and shamans.

I was given the chance to prove this belief when “Andrew,” a schizophrenic, middle-aged truck driver contacted me for a healing. He said he was constantly assaulted by negative voices and wanted relief.

After I requested his healing from my spirit guide, I emailed him these results:

“In the spirit realm, with my spirit guide, we began to perform an extraction and aura cleansing on your energetic body. There were many extractions and it took awhile to remove them. Afterward, your aura was cleansed and then the angels came in with loving energy and infused you with it. They then built-up your energetic body to prevent unwanted spirits and people’s thoughts from entering. Your crown chakra was too open and was reduced to a much smaller size to prevent unwanted spirits from entering. An intention was set that only the most holy of spirits would be able to enter.”

After receiving my message, Andrew indicated that he had known I had completed the healing. When I inquired how he knew, he sent me a lengthy description of what he had experienced while I performed his healing.

The following is a portion of Andrew’s description of the healing as he wrote it with the exception of a few grammatical corrections.

“Elizabeth…I had been snoozing…before that I had been wondering when you would do the healing.

Today, I was gently awakened by a soft voice that said, ‘They’re here.’

I then began to be aware of your very light presence…my eyes were still closed. It was then that I said, “Hi!” (Author’s note: This was significant, because when the healing began, I said “Hi” to Andrew’s spirit and was surprised when he said “Hi” back. I replied, “Oh, you know I am here,” but I didn’t mention this in my message to him.)

I felt as though there were two presences in the room other than you and me. The little voice said, ‘Don’t open your eyes!’

I lay there for a few seconds and then I saw the outline of two spirits. One of a living person and one not. The one that was no longer living seemed very ‘live’ and holy. The other one appeared to be witnessing something. As I was lying in bed, I felt very little other than calm and comfortable. I closed my eyes again. The voice said, ‘That was him.’ Seemingly referring to the ‘live’ one.

I lay still. The voice said now they’re getting rid of the spirits. I still felt calm and comfortable and yet wondered because I didn’t feel much. Then the voice said, ‘Now the angels are here.’

I kept my eyes closed and waited. A few minutes passed as I tried to sleep so as not to be a nuisance. The little voice said, ‘You’re not a nuisance.’

After a few minutes, the voice said, ‘It’s okay, they’re gone.’

I felt a little like a computer that had just come to life and wondered, ‘Is there nothing more?’

My apartment was dark…I keep the shades closed most of the time. It was near sunset and a little of the westerly sunlight was creeping through.

I started to make myself a cup of coffee, then the voice said, ‘She’s gone.’…meaning you.”

While I always give my clients a description of their healing, this was the first time a client had given me one! It showed how spiritually connected he was.

A few weeks later, Andrew complained that his mind was too quiet! I encouraged him to give it more time to adjust to the lack of noise in his mind. The loving spirits are soft spoken and do not impose themselves on anyone.

Ten months later, he wrote to me stating that the negative voices were bothering him less and less. He was now able to control the spirits’ abilities to contact him and was doing well.

Message from the Spirit: Schizophrenia is a two-edged sword. It is both a curse and a gift until it becomes a finely tuned instrument. Then what could cut and kill becomes a mechanism for separating the wheat from the chaff—a gift for healing.

Shaman Stone Soup

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