What I love about kids is that they come into the world already trailing the breath of the angels. - Oprah Winfrey
I am sure about something. Small children know from whence they came. They are still a part of heaven. That is why one of the easiest ways to feel the presence of the Divine is to connect with a child. When my grandson, Cameron, was around 15 months old his parents began hearing him in his crib having what sounded like a conversation with someone. I believe that angels are everywhere. Maybe Cam was sharing his thoughts with heavenly companions. Why couldn't he be? To me it makes perfect sense.
Recently, a friend told me a story about a little girl who wanted time alone with her infant brother. Her parents were suspicious of her motives. What if she did something to harm the baby? The big sister was so persistent that her mom and dad finally decided to allow her ten minutes alone with him in his room. After they closed the door, they listened quietly. They felt chills when they heard their daughter say, "Baby tell me what heaven is like. I'm starting to forget."
Do children come into this world bringing memories of a reality they lived before they were born? I think so. Little ones are so fresh from heaven that there hasn't been time for them to become hypnotized about what is and isn't possible. Sadly, over time, they become plugged into the world. What they once knew, they soon forget with the help of well meaning adults.
I just put down a book on that subject entitled Memories From Heaven by Dr. Wayne Dyer and Dee Garnes. In it are accounts from all over the world of children's recollections of their existence before they came to Earth. When I think back, I can recall the connection my children had to the other world. When my firstborn, Rob, was two, he had "imaginary" friends he played with all the time. Today, I wonder if these were relationships that had been forged before he was born. Perhaps he outgrew them in an effort to fit in when he learned they weren't "real."
When my daughter, Bridget, was three, my sister Ann lost a baby late in her second trimester. She and her husband were devastated. We all were. One day, when I was overcome with grief, my little girl was having trouble understanding why I was so heartbroken. She asked, "Why are you so sad? Just because Annie's baby is in heaven doesn't mean he's not her baby anymore. He's still Annie's baby." The assuredness with which she said this struck me. Where I saw a loss, she knew there was none.
One of the most beautiful impressions of the afterlife I've ever heard came from my great-niece when she was only three. Aine is highly intelligent and so articulate I never questioned the sophistication of her account. Her grandmother, Judy, was so moved by it she wrote it down word for word: "It's glorious and there are a lot of rainbows up there and beautiful angels. A tall place over the sky with twinkling lights all over it, a stained glass door. You respect the lifetime you're having rather than not liking your lifetime on Earth. Boy, that Earth is beautiful. It's the best place I bet."
I believe the veil between childhood and heaven is transparent. Of course, there is no way to prove if a young one's description of eternity is truth or fiction. I've come to the conclusion that just because we can't see something doesn't mean it's not real. After all, no one can actually see electricity, but we do know the benefits of acknowledging its presence. Little ones live with one foot in heaven and the other tethered to earth. I've learned so much from listening to them. It's comforting to know that there are more than the ups and downs we experience on this planet. Behind the scenes, moves a loving Presence that never abandons us. Pay attention. From the mouths of babes often come reminders of that.
Text and images © Sue Shanahan. All rights reserved. www.sueshanahan.com